Saturday’s fishing adventure up north didn’t offer much in the
way of fish; one scrappy little brown trout fell for a nymph, but
aside from that, the only thing we got was wet. We did learn that
the resident grizzly bears are up and active….
Heartbreaker. That’s the name I’ve given to Albula vulpes,
commonly known as the Bonefish. I came to this name while
strolling the sunburned flats, having been rejected yet again by
a shadow whose only prominent feature I could make out was
a small middle finger pointed in my direction as its owner
headed away from me with alarming speed. “Hmm. Did I put
the fly too close- maybe too far to the left? Hell, I don’t even
think it saw my fly. Of course it did- it’s swimming away you
idiot!”
I have never encountered another fish (save the Permit,
but folks seeking them know what they’re getting into) so
good at making grown men question themselves and their
fishing abilities; just flat out zapping them of any self esteem
they may have had. Yet at the same time, just when all hope
is lost, these fish can (and do) make you feel like a hero,
inhaling a fly and running out a hundred plus yards of line
from a buzzing reel in seconds. Not surprisingly, self esteem
suddenly rebounds, and for a minute or two you think that if
you were to die this very second, it would be okay, even
noble.
The 20 hour journey back to the Wyoming tundra gave me
quite a bit of time to reflect on Bonefish and the obsession that
spurs us on in pursuit of them, all while risking financial and
marital ruins. After spending two weeks in the tropics pursuing
these cold, heartless creatures, I’d like to think I learned a few
things, but overall, I’m left with more questions than answers;
Why does that big, single, cruising fish veer slightly to left of
where my fly has been patiently waiting? Heartbreaking, just
heartbreaking I tell ya.
In the end, I guess the only way to deal with such a fickle
creature is to come clean with yourself, admitting that even
though they break your heart, you love it and will happily sign
up for it again and again!
I’ve returned to the cold mountains of Wyoming, after
doing my best to live like a pirate for the past two weeks;
consulting a hand-written tide chart daily, consuming copious
amounts of rum, neglecting to wear shoes and combing pink
sand beaches in search of treasure. A man could get used to
this sort of thing. The treasure I (and my friend Kurt) sought
(and discovered) came in the form of bonefish. All our
searching was done together on foot, with 8 weight rods and
hand-tied flies. The first week was fantastic. The second
week, not so much (wind and clouds made fish spotting
impossible). Overall though, our trip was a major success and
a much needed break.
Brad, owner of the WD Fly Shop in Dubois, WY was kind enough to include me in a brief video he made recently. Brad joined Leon and I a few weeks back for a day of fishing on the Wind River. While he spent most of the time taking photos, he did manage to step into a nice run and land a brown trout, which apparently broke his whitefish streak. Anyway, Here’s the video. If you’re ever in Dubois, stop in and see Brad at his shop.
In addition to tying flies, playing guitar and making art,
lately I’ve made it a habit to read more. I’ve gotten through
quite a few books this winter but my hands down favorite was
“Life”, by Keith Richards. If any of you are Stones fans or just
fans of rock n’ roll in general, this is a must read! Keith covers
his whole crazy life, sharing details about song writing, life on
the road and his relationship with Mick Jagger.
Below is my Keef inspired rig- a Telecaster and a couple
Champ amps; what more do you need?
Snow has been falling for the better part of the week here
in Jackson. What started as some flurries and snow showers,
turned into a full-fledged winter storm Wednesday night,
leaving us with about eight inches of the white stuff here at the
house. So much for spring…
I was determined today to get out of the house and wet a
line. Winter storm watch be damned! I can report that the
fishing was good, the catching on the other hand, not so
much.
My friend and I fished a piece of water to the north today.
Something that I’ve fished in the summer time with some
success, but never thought to fish in the spring. We remarked
on the walk in, as we trudged through waist-deep snow, “this is
either going to be the smartest thing we’ve done in a while or
the dumbest.” The jury’s still out. The water, although nice,
didn’t offer any pleasant surprises. We saw black stoneflies all
over the banks and caddis larva floating in the back eddies, but
no fish. As we cast to unoccupied riffles and runs, the snow
intensified, coating everything around us and creating utter
silence. I can tell you that despite the lack of fish, we had a
great time.
Just because the water’s dirty doesn’t mean there aren’t fish
to catch. At least that was the case yesterday when I went
fishing with Leon and Gary. We battled high winds and water
that got dirtier as the day progressed, but were rewarded with
some nice Brown trout. Here’s Leon with one of his pet
fish……
Here in Jackson, we’re in the midst of what appears to be a
genuine spring thaw (finally). And despite the snow in the
forecast for this evening, it looks like temperatures will remain
on the warmer side (meaning rain here in the valley?). Jamie and
I still have a good amount of snow in the backyard, but it’s been
melting quickly the past few days, revealing a few small patches
of grass. In theory, the warmer weather means that fishing
around here should be good until the runoff begins.
One last note, Sage (our fishing companion) has made a full
recovery! Jamie and I took her stitches out last night and she’s
back to her old self.
Agent Mulder, of X-Files fame, had a poster in his office
that said, “I WANT TO BELIEVE.” Well, I wanted to believe too.
Unfortunately, belief only gets you so far when pitted against
truth and hard facts.
Last year, I replaced my felt-bottom Simms wading boots
with their new and improved rubber-soled boots, not because
of a burning desire to be politically/environmentally correct,
but because after several years of heavy use, my felt-bottom
boots had simply worn out and I was in need of a new pair.
Leading up to my purchase, rubber-soled boots had really
come into their own. Glowing reviews touting rubber’s
superiority to felt graced the pages of every fly fishing
magazine, website and catalog I came across. Throw in the
environmental benefits, and I had to wonder how I could go
wrong. Sure, there were occasional complaints from frustrated
anglers, but clearly these complainers were unpatriotic, anti-
environmental Americans, that would slip no matter what
footware they were wearing. In the end, the glowing reviews,
combined with the fact that most manufactures didn’t even
offer felt-bottom boots anymore, got the best of me. I bought
the rubber-soled boots.
My boots arrived and looked great. I wondered aloud to a
friend how anyone could complain about them. I mean, it’s not
like felt was the greatest thing in the world. I’d slipped in my
old boots countless times, especially when scrambling down
damp, grass covered hills. And felt’s horrible performance in
the snow; bring on the rubber! I couldn’t wait to wear my new
boots and see what the new world of wading technology had to
offer me.
Unfortunately, the new technology didn’t live up to the
hype. I quickly realized the negative comments WERE
justified. In my new boots, I might as well been walking on
polished ice; slipping and sliding along in the streams and
rivers I used to wade with ease. Wading in these boots gave
me all the consequences of heavy whiskey drinking without
any of the fun. To put it bluntly, my rubber-soled boots were
horrible!
And things haven’t changed. The soles haven’t softened or
broken in and made wading easier. I still slip and stumble
along the river bottom. Word seems to be getting out and the
industry has responded, recommending that carbon-tipped
studs be put in the rubber-soles. They claim that with such
improvements, the boots work great. Now, it seems to me that
if you have to implant metal spikes into your boots (boots that
cost good money) to make them functional, then your boots
are no good. I could make a lot of footwear appropriate for
wading if all that is required is putting metal spikes through
their soles!
In the end, I don’t want to put metal spikes into my boots.
I don’t want to walk around with carbon-tips tearing into the
ground, my car and my boat! I just want my felt back. Surely
in this day in age, someone can make a fishing boot that works
slightly better than any pair of worn out, grass stained
sneakers!
I wanted to believe, but I don’t
I managed to hightail it out of Jackson yesterday morning
and meet up with my friend Leon. Leon resides in a slightly
warmer part of Wyoming (if there is such a place), and is a
nymphing master. He doesn’t believe in strike indicators, which
is refreshing in this day and age where bobbers have become an
accepted accoutrement on the end of a fly line. He’s taught me a
lot over the years about short line nymphing and fooling brown
trout with his trademark fly creations. We had a great time
catching up and fooling a few fish. I hope to fish with him a few
more times before the runoff begins. Here’s a brown that fell for
my Leggy Bastard….
With spring coming (slowly), I’ve begun daydreaming
about upcoming fishing trips. Some trips are planned already-
two weeks of bonefishing and relaxing in the Bahamas, a
weekend road trip for Wyoming trout, and Yellowstone’s
opener. Others are only starting to materialize. And it’s these
trips, the ones to new waters closer to home, that have me
most excited.
Every season, in addition to my usual haunts, I try to
explore new trout water. I’m hoping that this season will be no
different. It could be a new stretch in a familiar drainage or a
completely different stream, just so long as it’s fishable! And,
while I enjoy fishing the big rivers around here (ie. The Snake,
Hoback, Gros Ventre), it’s the small streams that really
intrigue me. I’ve already begun studying local maps, noting
small blue lines and off the beaten path places that I’ve
meaning to get too, but haven’t yet.
Two such places stand out from last season.
On a hot day in early July, when it was clear that our first
choice fishery wasn’t in the mood to cooperate, my friend and I
decided to jump ship and explore lesser known water. This
particular stream, the kind of water that gets passed over
when headed to more popular locales, had caught my eye
years earlier. It turned out to be a great choice, offering us
new country and plenty of small, eager brown and cutthroat
trout.
Another was found haphazardly after scouting a prominent
river in southern Wyoming. This one was a real gem; a small
spring creek rising up from the ground, stuffed with aquatic
grasses and some of the most beautiful brown trout I have
had the pleasure of catching. Despite thunderstorms reining
over us in the little canyon (you shouldn’t fish in
thunderstorms), Sage and I moseyed through thigh high, ochre
colored grass, casting Blue Wing Olive to hungry trout.
Exploring streams like these make my fishing seasons
complete. Most don’t offer the biggest fish in the world
(although there are surprises!), but they do give me the sense
of adventure and discovery that is increasingly harder to find
in the world today. Hope you have a few adventures of your
own planned for 2011!