Runoff Fly Tournament: The Champion

In the lamest of all wins, the venerable Woolly Bugger wins. Congratulations to Carl Blessing and his famous creation; and to Duke, the Yankees, and all other perennial favorites. Next time, I'll pick more interesting flies.

Gently down the stream

Drift-boat-style rowing is not as easy as I thought. I've knocked friends out of boats, spiraled back to the ramp on stillwater, and embarassed myself otherwise...

Photo courtesy Ben Pierce

Practice and muscle memory are necessary to overcome the counter-intuitivity of the "drift-boat stroke". Understanding how to read water (float-read, not fish-read) helps, but does not make rowing second nature on your first trip. Liz, for example, is an experienced kayaker who knows which lines to take, how to approach hairy stuff, how moving water reacts to paddle strokes, etc., but admitted it wasn't completely natural to turn the raft. It's sort of akin to learning to back a trailer; go slow, and if you turn wrong, do the opposite (hopefully there's time). Above all, stay calm and carry on; eventually the boat will do what you want. And, as everyone told me, you have to push the boundaries of your comfort level to improve. Check (with aplomb, if a little horn-tooting is allowed).

We floated a small, cliffy river that's only runnable during runoff. It was about the lowest flow we were told floating's possible (well below the 25th percentile), so there was plenty to avoid.We figured it was pretty regularly Class II, up to II+ at the narrower spots.

Calluses peeled from the trunks of my fingers by Saturday night; pouring a little beer over my endorphins had me floating again quickly.

We swiped some branches at a couple points, but that was as hairy as it got. I put us front-first through some gurgling tongues as I wanted, and now feel ready to take on some new water.

It was a tremendous weekend replete with good friends, spectacular aurora borealis, the float, and a rainy hike to the Devil's Glen. None of the water was super fishy, but everyone caught trout on flies, everyone charted new Earth, and everyone had a memorable experience. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily...

Runoff Fly Tournament: The Championship

No Cinderellas here: it's the Woolly Bugger versus the Elk Hair Caddis in the final of the 2013 Runoff Fly Tournament. Vote now!

No limit

The limit on non-native fish in Yellowstone National Park has been quashed in an advanced effort to preserve native fish. This applies to all park waters, except the Madison and Firehole rivers, the Gibbon below the falls, and Lewis and Shoshone lakes. Additionally, rainbows and brookies in the Lamar Drainage (including Slough and Soda Butte creeks) must be harvested, similar to the mandatory-kill-of-lake-trout rule in Yellowstone Lake. Bring your lemon juice.

Runoff Fly Tournament: Round 3

The Hare's Ear, a prognosticator favorite, is out, and the Morrish Hopper has made the final four in the Cinderella story...

Just one fish

For my mentee's 7th and most recent birthday, he acquired the tried and true Zebco 220 rod/reel combo, so we've been fishin'.

When the focus is there, it's strong. When it's gone, it's gone.

But with his 7-year-old attention span, we need to catch fish. Any kind or size of fish. We are currently at about a code red with lack of fishing interest - we haven't caught anything in almost four total hours of fishing. This does not compete with Plants vs Zombies.
We attended the annual Bozeman Kids' Fishing Day at the East Gallatin Recreation Area on Saturday. Despite some serious combat fishing with rambunctious youths whipping their worms a various angles into the pond, it was fun. And folks were catching fish - yellow perch, largemouth bass, and the recently stocked 12-inch rainbow trout. Just not us.

Worm whippin'.

"Another one!" could be heard from time to time down the elbow-to-elbow shore, and our frustration level grew. While it was a good opportunity to teach patience, that you cannot win them all, and that fishing isn't always about catching, it also makes fishing seem like a futile waste of time to a young man who hasn't had the experience of a good fishing day.
So hopefully the fishing gods will bless us with something - anything - soon. Lest we cultivate another kid who would rather sit in front of a glowing rectangle than a river.
I'm sure there's good advice out there - let me know how you keep your kids interesting in fishing. Please.

Runoff Fly Tournament: Round 2

Runoff Fly Tournament: Round 1

I thought I'd make a little "fly tournament" to assist my fellow angler in getting through runoff. I apologize for it's schmaltziness - it's what I could find. Each Monday through June 3 a new round will be up for voting, with the winner being announced June 10. Please help me have a little fun and cast a vote!



In case you're wondering:

Clouser Minnow

Woolly Bugger

Elk Hair Caddis

X-Caddis

Hare's Ear

Prince Nymph

Morrish Hopper

Chernobyl Ant

Pink Scud

Zebra Midge

Humpy

Stimulator

Purple Haze

Brindle 'Chute

Sex Dungeon

Zoo Cougar

Life in Riparia

I snapped out of a recent pense remembering that in nearby Riparia, some fellow creatures are morphing into flyers. This invertebrate maturation gives the trout-smitten a chance to focus on good drifts and hook sets,  for which we are grateful.

These creatures are brachycentrus (if you know what I mean). The adults flutter erratically, simply hoping for a mate so they can send their genes downstream. They live fast, trying to avoid the ubiquitous perils, and it's over as quickly as it began. We humans are left with photos, memories, and the hope that we will someday see their descendants and do it all again, over and over until we ourselves get caught in one of our own perils.

It’s hard to maintain perspective on our wonderful lives day-in and day-out. If only I had some sort of David Foster Wallace speech everyday. And fishing helps.

Asterisk Fisheries

There are certain places where 20-inch trout do not impress. Not many, but they're out there. For some advanced anglers, they're the only thing maintaining their interest in the sport. I, for one, am always looking them.

Most are secret – some more than others. Sometimes you find that a fishery is not as secret as you thought, but no one talks about it so it only seems unknown. You could reveal to an in-the-know angler that you know, only to receive a blank stare and and a shrug. You're pretty sure he/she knows, but he/she doesn't seem to so you shut up. So the cycle goes...

An example. And another. And another.

A big fish from these fisheries always gets an asterisk, in my diary. It's cool, it's fun, but it's not the accomplishment it'd be from standard-biomass water. You have to add that caveat when showing photos if you believe in honesty, which few do. Incidentally, the monster cutthroat and behemoth brown sometimes in my blog header – both asterisk fish.

One more. Two more.

But be careful – such trouteries can ruin a fledging angler. After a day of catching 20-plus-inchers, 12-inch trout from the Gallatin or Bitterroot can be downright lame. Think of playing Chutes and Ladders after you've played Mortal Combat.

And there’s danger in going back, and back, and back... more folks are likely to see you, or find clues as to where you’ve been. It’s best to go once a year, to keep it special, to the let the river breathe, and to keep the fish healthy and catchable.

 Montana is the ideal place for seeking such fisheries, with access to zillions of cubic feet of water...

Who says the fishing ain't what it used to be?

Adieu et c'est la vie

Starting now and continuing for a few years, the non-native-but-wild cutthroat trout present in an unnamed drainage are going to be euthanized or relocated in an effort to help conserve an even more endangered native fish. Limits are high, and a mandatory-kill law, like the one at Yellowstone Lake, was apparently on the table (though decided against). Non-native trout removal is happening nationwide and it is what it is.

But liberal limits and a fish trap are certain not to guarantee elimination of the big, beautiful fish, which are currently planting and fertilizing eggs. And there are undoubtedly hundreds more - maybe thousands - that are too young to spawn this year, thus making them difficult to capture. Fisheries management is an inexact science and managers admittedly don't really know how to handle this situation in a multiple-use/conservation-minded area keeping as many folks happy as possible. It's an experiment that will be evaluated when it's over.

So we fished. Within 15 minutes, Liz landed three around 20 inches - it probably goes without saying that the level of "sport" was low (we didn't fish over redds or anything, but we might as well have). These fish were absurdly aggressive - in some holes, two casts was an extended dry spell. But this trip was more about having fun while helping conserve a unique fish in an incredible place, than it was about sport-fishing. We have no illusions about our success.

Big smile now...

Fish til you giggle...

Gratuitous

Like a boss

And they tasted great...

At the fishing access site...

Caviar!

If you recognize this fishery, have at 'er and help conserve an endangered fish. Keep in mind, however, that it's small water and a fragile ecosystem that probably wouldn't appreciate throngs of anglers.

We hate to lose this tremendous fishery, but if not for the efforts to rid the big and beautifuls, the creek would be closed this time of year and we'd never have the opportunity in the first place.

Regardless, we indulged for one weekend. It was something most lifelong fly anglers will never experience, and we appreciated every second and every fish. Hopefully this was not a final goodbye.

Copyright Liz Juers

More photos

Whatever floats your boat

Be happy.
In my reality, there is nothing more important than happiness. And happiness can be a fickle thing, so however you can find it (within reason), go for it with everything you've got.
I recently recalled judging a childhood friend and his family for having a run-down house with buckled siding,  cracked walls and messy rooms, but an excellent Bose sound system and all the TimeLife CD collections you can imagine. I thought their priorities were twisted, and I shook my mushy-brained adolescent head.
But now I have a plain, old, small, stained-carpet dead-grass-yard garage-free townhouse in a blighted neighborhood, nine fly rods and reels, eights pairs of Simms waders, and two rafts.
The second raft hasn't hit the water yet, but with a little luck it will this weekend. A brand-new Outcast PAC 1300 on a brand-new Adams raft trailer (the lights even work!) is sitting in my driveway, yearning for water.

Don't judge me - I am a (happy) fly fisher.

Ink for cutthroats

We stopped by Chuck Stranahan's fly shop in Hamilton, and after a few minutes of chatting, he made a phone call to see if he could line us up with his outfitter, Jed Fitzpatrick of Sula Mountain Fly Fishing. Sho 'nuff, Jed called later that day and we hammered cutthroats all Tuesday.

Fitzpatrick is a nice man and a terrific guide - he had us into fish from put-in to take-out. He helped Liz with her dry-fly cast, gave me a few tips on my own, and had some valuable advice on everything from fighting fish to photography to rod storage and fish release.
And we fished.
We floated a short stretch on the upper-middle mainstem and never touched a nymph. Trout, all but a couple appeared to be (as-close-as-they-can-be-to) pure westslope cutthroats, were all over neumora and March brown dries. We saw a handful of skwalas on the water, but the fish didn't.

Fish of the day.

One thing we learned - the skwalas bring the anglers, but the other bugs bring the fish; neumoras, capnias and March browns. Big, slow cutthroat rises, mostly on Stranahan's Brindle 'Chute.
The "good", fishy day for which I yearned finally reared its frantic grin. It only gets better from here...

Brindle 'Chute.

Don't touch my beer

Montana is known for fly-fishing for trout, mountains, open spaces, and soon, micro-breweries. It's a booming niche that employs many and provides family-friendly establishments to unwind with some of the world's most delectable beer. But the Montana Tavern Association, feeling threatened by the tasting rooms which are already bound by a 48-ounce-per-person-per-day limit and madatory 8-p.m. closing times, has lobbied for LC1429 (not yet a formal bill) (full text). Basically, it would force breweries to obtain the expensive and limited cabaret (beer/wine) or full liquor license to keep their tap-rooms open. Google it - there have been many op-eds in Montana newspapers regarding it lately.

• MTA's fair response

Montana's breweries are hip, unique establishments that spur industrial and tourism economies, and are fun places. I and mine love them and regularly patronize as many as we can.
This comes on the eve of Liz's and my trip to skwala fish and brewerize in the Bitterroot (ground zero for another on-going fight over a Montana specialty), where there are something like 10 marvelous breweries, counting Missoula and satellite outlets. We will be sure to get our time in, as there's a chance their time is limited.

Our new governor appears to be on the side of breweries, as he mailed a nice letter to one of Montana's newest breweries, welcoming them to the 'scape. If a bill gets that far, hopefully he'd quash it. Hopefully, it won't get that far.
So we're going to exercise our rights to patronize good-beer makers and angle within high-water marks, and appreciate what Montana is to me.
Fight!