Fly-Fishing, Through the Eyes of a Dirtbag

Fear No Rock

As advertised, yesterday was the final installment of propping up my lackluster trout fishing summer. The Blackfoot called my name and these days because of inter-tubing stimulus recipients the canyon stretch is just about the only show in town (see local fishing reports). My father drummed up John Howard again to provide boating and rowing services, compliments of the ClackaCraft. I’m happy to report that the Clacka indeed fears no rocks, as we tested every fiberglass seam in the hull.

Stimi Love

The day consisted mostly of fluffy terrestrials tempting eager Westslope Cutthroats. Being delegated to the back of the boat for the day I tried to dredge a monster off of the bottom but I was unsuccessful, despite throwing every streamer in my box. We rounded out the day catching a fair number of trout, nothing huge, but enough to make me a happy man. The Blackfoot is a river where you can find peace, which is perhaps why Norman Maclean was so successful in conveying his message. The world is changing, but for an afternoon I felt like I was transported back to my childhood, when life was simple. I returned to work today a rejuvenated man, ready to attack the challenges that lay ahead. Fishing has a way of doing that, and so I have concluded that fishing, at least for me, is the best treatment for when the rest of life might not be going your way.

Dad Still Has It

I have been so bored not fishing that I decided to go back through and grab a few videos from fishing in 2010 and put them together in a little presentation. It is a quick grab bag of rainbows on the Taylor, browns on the Dream Stream, a few from Spinney, the Yampa, and a few Bull trout from Montana.

Planning on fishing the Blackfoot, David and I took to preparing for our first full-day outing by tying some flies. Now, I’m not much of a tie, but David is pretty damn good so I watched South Park and watched him make cool shiny things for me.

I Always Work On Vacation

By 12:30 I was ready for bed and David was finishing trying to teach me how to spin deer hair. To his credit, David was able to wake up this morning before his alarm went off. I really appreciate when people do that, because there is nothing worse than having an alarm clock wake you up. I would much rather have David’s soft voice awaken me from my slumber.

Back on track though, after a quick cup of coffee, a short deliberation, a drive of intermediate distance and a rain shower we were ready to put the boat in the water. Now the water on the upper reaches of the Blackfoot has two distinguishing attributes. It is clear, not “gin” clear like you hear about on the South Platte, but it is literally clear. It is one of the few places I have been to that human vision can penetrate twenty feet into the water column unobstructed. The second definable feature of the upper Blackfoot and its tributaries is that they are very cold. This did not detour our copper john maniac David Luna however, he wasted no time tying on some of his freakish looking articulated streamers and a few copper johns of varying colors.

Montana Carp

Within ten minutes David managed to hook this whitefish on his articulated meat strip. I’m not even sure how or why this thing thought it could eat his offering, regardless however, it was the largest whitey I have ever seen eat a streamer. It might be the only whitefish I have ever seen eat a streamer, I’m not really sure. This is how David got introduced to Montana’s version carp (trash fish). Enter captain whitey.

As the day progressed David was overwhelmed with countless whitefish and seemed ecstatic to haul them into the boat. I was thrilled, this is the easiest kid to please in the world, if guides could get paid money to put people on whitefish then not only would their tips be amazing but it would also be the easiest job in the world (sign me up). As the rain started to come down sideways David hooked what he assumed was just another large whitey.

Shoulder Press

I was skeptical as I watched from the front of the boat, shades of yellow seemed to speak cutthroat to me as he continued to battle the fish in the current. “Went straight to the bottom, definitely a whitey” says David as if he is now an expert. I love his enthusiasm. As the battle entered its final stages and the fish began to concede defeat, to our mutual joy it was indeed a native trout, an exhilarating victory. As the smile on his face started to turn to a smirk the only thing he could tell me was how well his opponent fought. He glanced up from his rod to say simply “Nothing like tailwater trout Nathan”. Indeed David, it just is a whole different ball-game when the fish have to fight run-off, temperature changes, and other predators in the air and water.

The day concluded much as it began, with many a whitefish and a few nice trout. For David’s first day on Montana I would say it was an overwhelming success. I pray his new found arrogance will not anger the fishing gods and bestow upon us times of great despair. Developing…

Copper Luna

Sometimes it pays to spend a weekend recovering from previous excursions. The last several weekends have left me mostly sleep deprived and hungover so it seemed like a good time to not do anything. I also gazed into the future and found obligations with David Luna in Montana, my buddy Jeff on the Taylor, and my special needs uncle David and cousin Whit sometime in October. Thinking about all of that just makes me tired.

Victim

If you haven’t tried using a speargun before, I highly suggest you try it at your earliest convenience. Not only is this technique incredibly easy, it’s also extremely rewarding. I mean how else can you mercilessly patrol the coastal waters? With no catch limit and harvest strongly encouraged for these critters, there simply is no other more efficient means of extermination.

As far as my future is concerned, with any sort of break in the weather I’m going to hit the dream hard before the massive influx of crowds arrives sometime in the middle of September. This usually occurs immediately after some derelict from the Denver Post publishes a lame article about how someone’s “dream will be made” on the Dream Stream (*cough I mean Charlie Meyers State Wildlife Area). Get your egg patterns now, because when that article goes into print rest assured that every shop in town will be scratching their heads wondering why they didn’t order more. Every man for himself come the fall.

Other things I was doing this weekend…

Release

My long awaited sabbatical from fishing is nearing an end. This weekend should prove to be fruitful as I have secured lodging near Salida and a few friends to share some driving duties. I am also happy to announce that I have booked my plane ticket back to the promised land for a mid September foray before I totally immerse myself in the Brown run.

Promised land

I have contacted the previously mentioned Komrade Luna and convinced him to join me in this epic journey. Michael Gracie will also be joining us, but I will say I question his logic. When given the choice for an aisle or window the man took a window. Seriously, who does that on a 50 passenger commuter jet? Regardless, I’m looking forward to running him up and down mountains for several days. I’m bringing along bear spray and a defibrillator just in case. That being said several things are assured over the ensuing months.

1. I will catch lots of fish
2. Those closest to me will wonder where I’ve been
3. I will lose dozens of flies
4. I will lose less than 6 egg patterns
5. The man net will make a strong showing

First things first however. In my fishing absence I’ve organized my life and added a few arrows to the quiver so to speak. I managed to come across a Lamson Vanquish that I am going to be able to try out this weekend. Truly the Ferrari of reels (as it should be for $600), just putting this thing on my $150 rod made me feel more like a man. Do I need a conical drag system that boasts 3X more stopping power than other models? Absolutely not. Am I going to tell everyone that I see that my reel can do that. Of course. While this thing may have been designed for blue water I can only speculate as to the advantage it will give me while fighting sub 5 pound fish. With a reel like this you should really be able to lay the lumber to em’.

I am also ecstatic to tell everyone that I have finished construction on my new rod tubes. Since United Airlines makes a habit out of somehow breaking my rod tubes I have converted over to 100% PVC. If something can handle bathroom duty 24/7 I figure it can hold my rod.

I’ve also purchased 2 new lines (factory refurbished of course), some 4X, and a new pair of fingernail clippers. My greatest project however, might just be my new homemade fly boxes. Constructed with art bins from Hobby Lobby, some foam, glue, and an exacto knife they cost me less than $10 apiece and compare to the Bugger Beast which retails closer to $50. The tires are rotated on the truck, the oil has been changed, I’m ready for anything.