My World on the Fly

The Best Part of Duck Season

2012-01-05T09:58:00.003-06:00

Much to my dismay, Duck season ended this past Tuesday in the middle zone of Missouri. It was a strange season this year. Things started with a bang but ended with a whimper. We were "covered up," as they say, in early November but with mild weather and a delayed migration December slowed down significantly as the ducks that were here became educated. My focus this year, however, was not wing-shooting. It was the newest addition to the McCarty family, my baby girl Sage.

Sage was the highlight of 2011 for me, second only to the news that Sara and I are expecting a little hunter / fisherman this Spring--yes it's a boy!! My little girl, on the other hand, is an English Cream Golden Retriever that Sara and I found last March at a breeder just outside of Kansas City, MO. From the moment we picked her up, Sage has been at my side as much as possible.

This is what she looked like when we picked her up. Doesn't she look like the biggest bad ass of the litter?

These are her parents, both canine and human. Daddy dog comes from a long line of tracking dogs so I figured, if nothing else, Sage will have a good nose.

Sage is truly my best friend. She with me on all my outdoor adventures.

She fishes:

Fresh water and salt:

She canoes:

And of course, she hunts:

Teaching Sage to hunt is an ongoing and difficult challenge from a training perspective, but it's also the most rewarding. Sara and I decided from the get-go that Sage was going to be a house dog and that we were not going to send her off to be trained. That meant the onus was on me to get her ready for duck season. I had only a few months as we picked her up in late March 2011 and our season starts in early November, not to mention dove season in September (and early teal season).

I got started by calling a dog-training, duck-hunting, trout-guiding, Smokey Mountain-dwellin', bad ass friend of mine who told me to read Richard Wolters' "Water Dog." The book was, and continues to be, a great reference, but having Steve on call for my many, many questions that have come up along the way has been invaluable. Seriously, if want to have your dog trained or get into some really big browns down in TN, I highly recommend Steve Sylvis (http://www.xtremetrout.com/). He's truly a great guy.

Per Richard Wolters, Sage and I started with the basics--sit, stay, come, heel, down--she caught on pretty quickly. We also began playing fetch at a very early age. For example, here's Sage with her first Greenhead:

As she progressed, we swapped out voice commands for a whistle. She sits well on the whistle but we're still working on the other commands.

Another very difficult chore was getting Sage used to shooting. Per Steve, I learned that Goldens are much "softer" than Labs due to years of breeding them as house dogs and not working dogs. They are much more timid about new things and have a tendency to rely on their handlers to a much greater degree. I learned this lesson on an early season teal hunt with two buddies, one 10 month old lab, and my little 5 month old Sage. The hunt went like this. We knew a pack of 50 or so teal were enjoying a nice little slough just off the river. The plan was to walk in intentionally spooking the birds with the hope that they would come back. The plan worked. We as we snuck in, the pack of blue-wings picked up almost immediately and began to circle the slough. After a few passes, they eventually dropped low enough for a quality shot and we opened fire. The first volley wasn't so bad. We dropped two ducks, shooting only twice. The lab went bounding for the first bird and, with an extremely proud father watching, my baby went out after the second bird. As the dogs were in the field, however, the second waive of birds came flying over our heads and we cut lose again, this time each emptying our guns. We ended up dropping three more birds but the second round of 9 shots really spooked my little girl. Despite her being in a state of panic from all the shots and not knowing what to do with three more birds on the water, little Sage brought back the first duck of her life after quite a bit of coaxing and praise. I was the proudest father ever, but Sage was not so happy. Back at my side, my little girl let me know how nervous she was from all the loud noises and confusion by jumping up on me, trembling and whimpering with a look of "Dad, get me the f*ck out of here." The lab of course was not phased at all and was running around the field in circles like a little kid that had just chugged 5 Mountain Dews. While very proud of my girl , I was devastated thinking she would never want to be around guns again.

On the way home from the hunt, I had a lengthy discussion with Steve and we discussed the temperment of Goldens versus Labs and how I could teach Sage to associate the blast of the shotgun with a successful retrieve and praise, not fear. The plan going forward was simply to be patient and let Sage dictate the hunt. I was out there for her, not me. I felt like I should have known that from the start.

For the rest of early teal season, when Sage and I went out, we simply watched birds with no shooting. Sage began to learn that "watch 'em" meant birds are in the sky and she'd look up. Here's a shot of Sage intently focused on a pack of teal that buzzed by us several times:

I think all of our recon missions without firing shots really helped Sage settle down in the field. I also think "watch 'em" has really helped Sage focus on the sky when we're hunting. Several times this season, Sage spotted birds before me which led to a successful retrieve. This is Sage saying "pay attention Dad!"

Those first few hunts after "the teal incident" were difficult for me because I don't get to hunt as much as I would like and when I'm out there, like anyone else, I like shooting. Being patient, however, and only shooting when I knew the bird would fall where Sage could see it and retrieve it really taught me a lot about duck hunting (i.e. you tend to kill a lot more birds when you're patient). This year I shot several doubles and my first triple ever. While Sage was not quite ready to start retrieving triples, it wouldn't have happened without her at my side. My patience also allowed my baby dog to get over her fear of the shotgun blast. Now, every time she hears a shot, her ears perk up, her tail starts wagging, and she starts scanning the horizon for falling birds. She loves it!

This season I watched my 9-10 month old Sage retrieve 15 ducks. While she found and played with several more, she actually brought 15 back to her daddy in the blind. Now I know this is probably nothing compared to a dog that gets sent off to be trained, but I couldn't be happier with our progress nor prouder of my puppy. That said, we have a lot of work to do and I'm looking forward to it.

Candidly, I really don't care if we get better from here, although I know Sage could be awesome if I put in the time. Really, I just like hanging out with her and taking her with me to the woods, the river, the beach, or the blind. I think Steve put it best when he asked me: "Look man, what is it you're looking for? Do you want a field-trial master champion or do you want a dog that will hang out with you, pick up a duck for you, and sit at your side and bark at you when your indicator goes down?"

I think the answer is obvious.

Pooning 2011

2011-06-24T07:58:00.002-05:00

My fifth year at "Location X" was a good one. Two days on the water, seven fish to the boat and a few more took to the skies. Pictures speak louder than words (and there's just way too much to say about it).

We wait as the sun rises....

Fish in sight. 1 o'clock. Cast!

Good shot. Strip, strip, strip.......

BANG! Fish on!

Nice little girl.

On the board!!

This mamma was a little bigger.

Unfortunately, after a hard fought battle, she won right at the boat.

Fortunately for me, they kept coming.

Last fish of the trip broke my rod.

A nice way to end the trip.

AND I CAN'T FORGET....

Special thanks to my photographer.

AR Recap

2011-01-26T10:59:00.001-06:00

I'm back from AR. Actually, I got back about two weeks ago but have been lazy about writing a post. Unfortunately, this year I didn't land anything massive, although Stone and Joe each boated some great browns. Joe landed a solid 23.5 and Stone released a big 24 inch male. Here's Stone's piggy. I don't have a picture of Joe's fish yet.

During our trip this year, Jamie and Matt asked if I could put together a little video of some of the fish we've caught with them. They also wanted to see some of the POV (point of veiw) footage we constantly talk about. In lieu of writing a long post, I'll defer to the video. I love streamers!! Enjoy!

AR 2011

2011-01-04T13:11:00.000-06:00

It's been a while since my last post simply because I have not been fishing. Lately, my world has been dominated by deer and ducks. Some great hunts, some boring hunts, but all were worth while. I learned a lot and am already looking forward to next season. I know there's still a few days left to kill a deer with my bow but I have officially switched back over to fishing mode. Tomorrow is day one of the annual trip to Arkansas. I've been at the vice for the last few weeks and finally think I'm prepared. I can't wait. Five guys, five days of fishing on two incredible rivers. No sleep tonight for me. Hopefully, I'll have some pictures to share next week.

The West III: On Our Own

2010-10-05T20:43:00.001-05:00

For Days 3 and 4, Joe, Johnny and I rowed ourselves in Joe's beautiful drift boat. Both days we floated Section 1 because that's the section of river Joe knew the best from his guiding days. The plan was to utilize the same strategy--slam the banks early, find risers in the afternoon, and finish with streamers at dusk.

On the first day, we had one of the most memorable (and definitely the most valuable) catches of the trip. One thing you have to understand about this crew is that we rarely come unprepared. Actually, we're usually so loaded with gear that half the stuff we lug halfway across the country never gets used. This trip was no different. Here are the weapons we used for day 3. Pay close attention to the rod in the foreground.

Every now and again, having a lot of gear (e.g. extra rods) proves useful. On our first day in Joe's boat, we put in at the dam. Joe took the first shot at rowing, as he was the former guide, and Johnny and I planned to throw some heavy sink tip rods with big streamers to see if we could dig up one of the big, big browns that are often seen hanging out near the dam. We put the boat in the water and Joe rowed hard across the heavy current over to the power house where the current was not ripping. Once we hit the slack water, Joe rowed upstream so we could start our streamer fishing as close to the dam as possible. Joe really earned his stripes for this because even in the slack water, rowing upstream was not easy with the 30 mph breeze that was screaming off the dam directly downstream. Thanks for the effort Joe.

After a hard fought battle, Joe got us in position in the main channel and we began chucking and ducking, literally. I don't think JD got the memo, however, about the ducking part. After about five casts I absolutely drilled him in the back of the head with a very large conehead streamer. I blame the wind, and of course the guide for not positioning us properly. I suppose I had a little something to do with it too. Sorry JD. Anyway, the fly hit Johnny with such tremendous force that he was briefly stunned. He wasn't unconscious or anything, but he was dazed enough that he let go of his $1500 Sage/Lampson rig (shown in the foreground in the picture above) and watched it sink to the bottom of the 8 foot main channel. Joe and I screamed at him to grab the thing as it slowly sank but it's like he couldn't hear us. I'm guessing his ears were ringing still from the shot he took to the dome. There was nothing we could do as the rod sank to the bottom. The current was way too strong to jump in, and, even if it wasn't, the rod was 8 ft down and the water was freezing. I consider myself to be a pretty strong swimmer but this was not an option.

Depressed, Joe pulled the boat over in the slack water and we tended to John's wound. After a few minutes, we decided it was worth rowing back upstream, floating the same line, just to see if we could locate the rod. We had no idea how to get it even if we could find it but we went for it anyway. Sure enough, on our first drift, we spotted the silver reel and rod with about 60 feet of fluorescent green fly line waving in the current. We pulled over again and thought: how can we get this thing? Had we been in a salt water skiff we may have had a gaff. Actually, with all the shit we bring on trips, I'm surprised we didn't have one. We put our heads together and formulated a plan. The idea was to rig up the two stiffest rods in the boat, tie on huge, articulated streamers, reel them all the way up to the front guide, and try to snag the rod or the fly line laying on the river bottom.

Joe rowed us back upstream, and with cameras rolling, the following unfolded:

After our rod retrieval, karma was on our side. What was not on our side was the weather. We got hit pretty hard on Day 3 with a significant thunderstorm (i.e. serious wind, hail, and pounding rain). With all the gear we had, JD forgot his rain jacket. He was not comfortable.

Approaching Weather.

Uncomfortable JD with no rain jacket.

After the storm blew through, the bugs continued to hatch and we managed to catch a few fish. Check out the big adult stone. Almost salmon-fly worthy:

Unfortunately, the wind never quit. Here's an example of what we were dealing with.

Once the weather broke, and it finally did, we all took turns at the oars. JD saved me quickly by snagging this little hybrid within the first few minutes of my taking over.

Capt. Joe enjoyed a few fish as well, again from a seated position in the back of the boat.

The biggest fish of the trip came while former South Fork guide Joe Scott was at the oars. Joe hasn't lost his touch apparently. As we approached one of his favorite banks, Joe told the story of how this bank holds big fish and no one really ever fishes it. John and I were doubtful but didn't open our mouths as we were quite comfortable with rods in our hands instead of oars. We dropped in to the slot along Joe's bank and after a few casts, I nailed this 22' hybrid on a dry.

Here's a little video of landing this sucker. Listen closely to the commentary between Big JD and I. Always on each other's case.

Day 4 and Day 3 sort of ran together. We spent a lot of time on a new riffle down near the take out. This is where we caught the majority of our fish on our final days. We stuck some great fish.

As is usually the case, I had a very difficult time leaving the river on our last day. Fish were rising everywhere but it was getting dark and we had a little more river to cover before the take out. Check out some of this video of fish rising on this little flat. One more cast was the recurring theme....

Eventually we were forced to quit. That night we enjoyed steaks and good red wine and reluctantly packed our things. It was an amazing trip and hopefully will become an annual adventure for the three of us.

The West II: Guided Days

2010-09-29T14:48:00.004-05:00

We ended up fishing the next four days on the South Fork of the Snake River just outside Victor, Idaho. If you haven't fished the South Fork, I highly recommend it. Prior to this trip, I had only fished the South Fork once--the Thursday prior to my wedding. That year, we were slightly early in the season and didn't catch the really good dry fly fishing. Salmon flies were just starting to show up but the fish were not dialed in on the dries just yet. We did well on the huge salmon fly nymphs and managed to stab a few off the surface on the comparable dry fly pattern but it was nothing like what we experienced this year. August was the perfect time for South Fork dry fly fishing. It was some of the best dry fly fishing I have ever encountered.

Days 1 and 2 we used guides from the South Fork Lodge. Day 1 we fished with Chris Conant, a local STL angler, and Brett Novik, head guide at South Fork Lodge. On day 2, Brett had to swap out and we fished with Cole Sutheimer. All guides were excellent and I would highly recommend any of them if you're interested in taking a trip to the South Fork.

Day 1 we floated section 2 of the river. We put in just above South Fork Lodge and pulled out at a private take out only accessible to South Fork Lodge guides. The fishing was excellent. We started by pounding the banks with hoppers, ants, and stimis. This produced a few fish but was really just a way to pass the time until we hit the first riffle where the cuttys were dialed in on PMDs. Once we got on the risers, I understood the why this river is famous for dry fly fishing.

As we approached the first good shoal, we floated through the deep section on the opposite side of the river that we were going to fish. Hundreds of noses were breaking the surface on the far bank as we drifted by. We slowly slid the drift boat into the eddy below the rising fish, rigged up the Winny 5wt with a PMD and PMD emerger, and went to work.

Having not fished dries in a while, it took several strikes for me to get my timing back. Once I was back in the zone, it was on:

Watching these fish work was truly magical. I was amazed I couldn't spot these fish in the shallow, gin-clear water. Johnny and Joe enjoyed similar success:

As the day progressed, our fish count rose tremendously. It was really an amazing experience. Just about every fish was a 15 to 17 inch cutthroat caught on a little tiny dry fly. I was in heaven.

Chris and I closed out Day 1 in search of a big brown on a streamer. Mr. Conant had stuck a pig off the bank just above the take out a few days before and that's where my best fish of the day came. Big 20+ inch brown on a black and yellow marabou jig. Nice work Chris!!

Day 2 was almost a carbon copy of day one. We started by slamming the banks, fished riffles all day for rising cutts and a few browns, and we closed with streamers at dusk. Here are some shots from our second day:

Piggy brown on a #20 PMD.

Great release video. Pay no attention to Davis' cold balls.

Mr. Scott--nice brown out of the boat while seated (lazy ass).

JD--nice looking hybrid (I think).

The highlight of day two for me was actually losing a fish.  Chris had some intel on a resident brown that had been spotted in a back water behind a series of islands. With the main channel off to our left, Chris and I snuck behind this island where the water was spilling over a very shallow gravel bar into a deep hole with various root wads and overhanging trees. The entire pool was about 60 feet long and about 20 feet wide. It was strikingly similar to some challenging water on on the Current River back home, Chris and my home waters. We approached from down stream through a two foot clearing in the overhanging trees. Due to the very shallow gravel bar at the top of the hole, and the root wads on the opposite bank, we would have to try to guide any big fish out the two foot gap where we accessed the hole.  We discussed our plan.  The outlook wasn't brilliant. With very few options, our hope was to net the fish before it could leave the seclusion of the back water. Chris and I sat and watched for a moment. I threw a bow and arrow cast at a little cutty that was tucked under one of the sunken trees. Nothing. That was not why we came, however. As I continued to mess with the cuttys, we both noticed a big roll just below the gravel bar in the riffle. This was the big boy.

It only took one cast with a PMD and a little beadhead dropper. The flies drifted off the gravel bar into the zone and I saw another roll. With a slow hook set, it was on. Before Chris or I could even think about netting this pig, it bolted downstream right through the slot in the trees where we wanted him to go. I began the chase.  Chris managed the excess fly line sitting on the water as we passed through the narrow gauntlet so it wouldn't get caught on any branches.  Just as the fish cleared the pool, it darted right at a 90 degree angle toward the main channel passing under a submerged log. Oh fuck! I had no idea what to do now.  My line was going under this sunken tree and the fish was doing aerials on the opposite side. Quickly, Chris hopped over the log and I managed to pass my rod to him under the submerged tree limb as the fish continued its acrobatics. Chris swiftly handed the rod back to me and I regained control (if that's what you call it). Chris then hopped back over the tree to untangle my excess fly line which was quickly wrapping itself around the submerged log. After a few seconds, we cleared the log and had the fish tight on the line again. How he didn't snap my tippet or throw the fly is beyond me.

At this point, the fish calmed a little and slid into a quiet eddy on the lower left side of the island. I thought we had him. We approached slowly and got a good look at this monster brown. We estimated 25 or better. This was the fish of a lifetime.  Chris and I inched forward. The beast was almost taunting us by not moving and showing us his size. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the fish decided to bolt right at us passing just to Chris' right side. Chris lunged with the net--no love. The fish ran back under the tree where we had brilliantly maneuvered the rod underwater but this time the fish completed his mission of snapping my tippet. He was gone.  But what a fight.

Days 3 and 4 to come....

The West: Part I: The Madison

2010-09-29T11:10:00.004-05:00

Back in early August, Big John , Joe Scott, and I took a 5 day adventure out West. The sole purpose of the trip was fishing and I'd say we accomplished our mission. We fished hard every day, hitting the water by 11 or so and quitting around 10 pm.  We had one day of wade fishing on the Madision near Ennis, Montana, and four days fishing out of a drift boat on the South Fork (two guided days and two days where we rowed ourselves).  By the end of the trip, John and I were trying to figure out whether our fish count was higher than our Bud Light count. I think the fish count won and that's really saying something.

We left STL at 6 am on a Tuesday and the wheels were down in Jackson, WY by 9:45 am. I love getting an early start. We had plenty of time to drive to the Madison for our first day of wade fishing.  If you've ever flown in to Jackson Airport, you remember the view from the runway as you step off the plane. It's truly amazing and we had a beautiful clear morning to soak in the Tetons.  It had been a year since I'd been in Jackson. Last July Sara and I were married there. The place was more beautiful than I remembered.

Dodging hoards of passengers snapping photographs on the runway, we moved swiftly toward the baggage claim. JD and I took care of the luggage while Joe arranged for the truck. Joe, a regular to the Jackson area and a former fishing guide for South Fork Lodge, keeps a bad-ass Ford Excursion in Jackson. He also has a drift boat and tons of fishing gear in storage. We made good use of everything.

The baggage / car pick up could not have been smoother. The bags were basically waiting for us by the time we got to the baggage claim (gotta love small airports!) and the truck started on the first try. We had been a little concerned that the cold winter would have taken its toll on the battery but luckily she fired up immediately and we were off toward Montana.

The drive was pretty cool because we followed world famous trout rivers the whole way. We first drove over the Snake River in Jackson. Next, we headed over the pass into Victor, Idaho and paralleled the South Fork of the Snake for a few miles until merging slightly north along the the Henry's Fork.  Once we hit MT, we followed the Madison all the way to Ennis and to the channels where we would wade fish.

The view from the backside of the Tetons was not bad at all on the drive up.

Not counting our numerous stops for lunch, gas, beer, groceries, flies, and just about everything else you can imagine, we were stepping into the river right at prime hatch time. We had caddis, rusty spinners, and all sorts of terrestrials. Dry fly fishing for trophy Madison River browns was not a bad way to close out a Tuesday. All three of us ripped a few lips but John and I connected with the two healthiest fish.

I saw the brown below rise in a long tail out where a riffle slowly tapered off into deeper water along a cut bank. After watching some smaller fish rise, I saw this guy eat an emerger where he barely exposed his nose and tail. The tail was big and I knew he was worth a cast or two. The first cast proved successful and this brown ate an olive caddis emerger. We estimated he was about 19. Long and skinny.

JD's fish was much bigger but unfortunately, due to a netting error by yours truly, we do not have a photograph of his big rainbow which probably could have eaten the brown above. It was getting dark and JD and I had teamed up on a similar tail out where fish were actively rising. The only difference between JD's hole and the run where I stuck my brown was depth. His hole was 3 times as deep as mine and I'm sure was home to a couple very large fish.

JD and I studied the run, watching several fish rise prior to throwing the first cast. We threw all sorts of different dries and stuck a couple little fish as the sun fell behind the mountains. The final cast was with a #16 rusty spinner. JD made a nice presentation and we watched a large nose rise and sip the fly. Once Johnny set the hook, we knew it was big as the fish bolted through the deep channel for the faster water below the hole. JD began the chase and I dropped my rod and sprinted to get below the fish with the net. I'm not terribly fast, especially in wading boots, and the fish was winning the race. I kept running but this big bow was in the lead. After 100 yards or so I knew we were running out of time. The fish was sprinting and rolling through a fast riffle no deeper than a foot. He was sure to throw the hook if we didn't act soon. Figuring we were losing the battle, I took a hail mary shot with the net. With the low light I couldn't really see the fish and simply aimed at where I thought he'd be based on the position of John's fly line. I swiped and saw a 24+ inch flash of silver just beyond the reach of my net. John's line curved around the net bucket and suddenly recoiled back toward him. With no weight in the net, I knew he was gone. Great story but unfortunately no picture. Sorry JD. This would have been one of the bigger fish of trip, if not the biggest.

I really felt bad that I missed the net job but I wouldn't exactly call it an error. It would be similar to a third baseman missing a short-hop ground ball ripped down the third base line. You shouldn't be penalized for it but it's certainly a makeable play and sometimes it separates AAA from the big show. Looks like I'll be stuck in the minors for a while. Karma is a bitch too because later on in the trip I would lose a hog of a brown on the South Fork that dodged the net as well. Stay tuned.

Vail: One Year Anniversary Trip

2010-08-16T16:22:00.006-05:00

Sara and I took a long weekend trip to Denver and Vail for our one year anniversary. We would have loved to go back to Jackson (the place we were married) but we didn't have enough time to make the longer trek. We decided on Colorado to get our mountain fix and it did not dissappoint. Of course, we had to do a little fishing along the way.

I think Sara has come to terms with my fishing addiction. I hope she has. I fished at our wedding, on our honeymoon, and I bring a fly rod on pretty much every trip we take these days. The one year anniversary trip was no different.

The first night we stayed in Denver, met up with some friends for drinks, and had a lovely dinner at a fancy restaurant. Fresh colorado lamb and steak was a nice treat after the 6 month diet I've been attempting. I was not about to count calories on vacation. I think that's actually illegal in some states.

After dinner we took leisurly stroll through town. Denver is a very cool city. Everyone is very friendly and people seem happy to be alive. I think I could handle living there. I wonder if I'd ever get any work done with the abudance of outdoor activity just outside my door. Doubtful.

Early Friday morning we checked out of our Denver digs and headed up in to the hills for some much needed mountain air and, of course, a few trout. When we arrived, we had a bit of time to kill because check-in for our room was not till 4 pm (a little ridiculous if you ask me). We decided to take a leisurly hike along a small mountain stream. I brought two fly rods just in case we got stranded and needed nourishment.

It turned out that the hike was a little more intense than we had expected. The uphill climb in the altitude combined with a pack full of fishing gear, rain jackets, water, and snacks made for a pretty good work out. Sara dusted me up the trail although, in my defense, I was carrying the pack which weighed almost as much as her. I really need to work on packing light. By the time we reached the top, I was exhausted. I think I threw two casts before we decided to turn around and head for lower Gore Creek. Gore would provide bigger fish, nice streamside benches and tables where Sara could sit and read, and it was a hell of a lot easier to access. We scurried down the mountain (this time I took the lead) snapping a few photos along the way.

Back near Vail, we managed to find a nice park along Gore Creek to hang out. I fished for an hour or so while Sara enjoyed a book. The fishing was quite productive. While fish weren't responding to dries, I managed to stick quite a few on varrying nymphs including a pretty stubborn brown that should have been a little spookier than he proved to be. The fish was about 5 ft off the bank in shallow water no deeper than a foot or so. I casted several times to him and he wouldn't eat. When I finally got my fly snagged on a submerged log that was litterally laying underneath the fish, I thought, "why waste the fly, this fish is not eating anyway." I crept out into the stream and the fish slid up in the current a couple feet from the log. I could have netted the thing while standing there. He didn't seem to mind my presence. I carefully unhooked my fly and worked my way back to the bank below the fish where I had originally been standing and casting. As moved away from this brown's perferred spot, he slowly slid back to his original position and started eating again. How this fish was able to relax so soon after I was literally standing in his hole is beyond me. There's no way he didn't see me. Check out the bright red shirt. Anyway, I decided to try another cast, this time using a green drake nymph and a little midge pattern. That was all it took. On the first drift the fish ate the drake and ran toward the fast water. After a few minutes, and a yell to Sara who was holding the camera, I landed this nice, dark, Gore Creek brown:

After feeling like I accomplished something, Sara and I headed back to the hotel to check-in. To my surprise, Sara had a small wedding cake delivered to the room with a nice bottle of champagne. I did not realize that it's tradition to eat some of your wedding cake on your one year anniversary. Unfortunately (or fortunately), we were unable to freeze any of our original cake due to the destination wedding so Sara, being the thoughtful thinker that she is, contacted a local pastry chef who whipped up a delicious, personal-sized wedding cake for our romantic weekend. With the cake in the room, I had to keep a close eye on Sara so she wouldn't spoil her dinner. She's got a little bit of a sweet tooth. After bear-proofing the fridge, we headed to a fancy restaurant at the base of the mountain. I quietly enjoyed another lovely, romantic dinner with my best friend. She couldn't stop thinking about the cake through dinner. Quite frankly, neither could I. Check this sucker out.

Our first day in Vail ended appropriately with a fire, some delicious wedding cake, and cool glass of champagne. Sara and I reminisced about what we were doing the year before in Jackson. I had fished all day on the South Fork with some members of my wedding party and Sara had her bridesmaids luncheon. By dusk, we were at a cocktail party in Jackson generously thrown by one of my old friend's parents. All the guests had arrived and everyone seemed to be having a blast. How could you not in Jackson? Sara and I couldn't have been happier. All of the preparations we she had made were working out perfectly. We couldn't wait for our rehearsal dinner the next day at the top of Rendezvous Mountain. A gourmet BBQ at 10,000 ft complete with a campfire and toasted marshmellows. I know this sounds arrogant, but I've never been to a cooler wedding than ours. Really, looking back there's not one thing I would have changed.

Prior to taking our anniversary trip, Sara and I dicussed possible activities for our brief stay in the mountains. One of the suggestions was white water rafting. I had been white water rafting when I was a kid and I remember it being similar to a float trip (i.e. canoeing in Missouri). You go to the float company, sign your waivers, get on a bus full of people, head to the river, and attempt to look cool when the company takes the picture that you'll later be forced to buy if you want to remember the experience. I wanted something more personal. I also couldn't handle being on the river all day without my fly rod. As I contemplated options, a light bulb went off in my head--we could white water raft and fish at the same time. I'd find a guide who had a raft and could float us through some heavy water during a day of fishing. Instead of spending the day with 12 random strangers on a raft on the Colorado River with boats scattered everywhere, we were going to float the lower section of the Roaring Fork where we could get splashed and catch some trout. Through cunning and a little bribery, Sara agreed to my little adventure. A guided day of fishing on our one year anniversary. She is really irreplacable.

Our day on the water couldn't have started off any worse. We had rain, hail, wind, and very cold conditions. I felt terrible for Sara, although the weather for rafting on the Colorado wouldn't have been any different. Thank goodness we brought our rain jackets. What was supposed to be a beautiful sunny day on the water started out as a windy 50 degree drencher. Sara gutted it out in true Holtsman form and her perseverence proved worthwhile. After a couple hours of grey skies, the weather moved through and we were floating and fishing in the sun. I love mountain weather.

Sara's fishing skills surprised me. We usually fish together a couple times a year but she does not like taking instruction from me. I think this is typical behavior in most husband-wife instructional scenarios for whatever reason. However, with the introduction of a third party instructor, and my promise not to watch her cast, Sara relaxed and really caught on. Her casting improved tremendously and she was able to catch fish on nypmhs, dries, and almost streamers. She would have caught fish on the streamers but she really didn't have the right rig. I was throwing a heavy 7 wt with a sink tip and Sara was working with a lighter 5 wt floating line. The fish were nailing the deep streamers I was chucking but wouldn't rise for Sara's bug. Had she had the right tools, I guarantee you she would have had success.

Ready to haul!!

I was super impressed with Sara's fishing skills and I had a blast spending the day on the water with her. No huge fish were landed but we caught a lot. Especially around dusk when the green drakes started coming off. We must have doubled if not tripled our numbers on dries at the end of the day. I really hope she'll get out there with me again sometime. I can't believe how much I enjoyed fishing with her.

After the rain delay, our day on the water turned out to be pretty long. We watched the sun set behind the mountains and did a little dry fly fishing in the dark. The biggest fish of the day came right at dark near our take out.

We didn't get back to our room until midnight or so. Thankfully, we were able to grab some room service when we arrived. Room service, fire, cake and champagne made for the perfect ending to the day. I was in a good place.

Our final day, we dicided to take the gondola up to the top of the mountain for a quick hike and some high-elevation site seeing. I got up that morning, of course, and caught a few fish on Gore Creek before Sara woke up just so I could say that I caugh trout everday we were in Vail. That morning I actually hooked and lost the best fish of the trip. A big rainbow nailed another green drake nymph and tore upstream performing several aerials just to let me know how big he was. After the short, fast run, he wrapped me around a huge rock in some heavy current and the battle was over. Oh well. At least I got to enjoy the fight.

The top of the mountain was cool but crowded. We hung out for a while, had lunch, and took a few trails. Dodging the hipee brigade playing frisbee golf was fairly challenging but we managed to survive. Actually, one of the "frolfers" was kind enough to take our picture:

Shortly after lunch some weather approached, and Sara and I hurried back down the hill and headed toward Denver. We met up with an an old college / fishing buddy of mine who just had a baby. Sara will do just about anything these days to spend time with infants. This is slightly scary for me but I'm glad Sara has such a strong maternal instinct. Hopefully we can have some little fishermen (or women) someday. I will need to get one of those baby backpacks so he or she can join me on the water at a young age.

A few quick drinks meant it was time to head to the airport. We got checked in, grabbed a bite to eat, and settled into our seats secretly wishing we had gone to Jackson. What a great way to celebrate our first year. Next year we'll go the distance.

Location X, June 2010

2010-06-15T14:01:00.001-05:00

In the interest of confidentiality, there will be no fish tales. Only pictures. In two days of fishing, I boated 3 tarpon and jumped a fourth. This year was a great success. All fish were in the 80 - 100 lb class. Thanks to my lovely wife for joining me in the boat on the second day. The second day had the most action (landed two and jumped one). Without her, I would not have these fabulous pictures taken on her new camera. For that matter, without her I probably would never have found Location X. Thanks also to my guide who will remain nameless.

Fish #1 (jumped):

Fish #2

You'll notice 3/4 of my rod in the water on this one. Luckily, we were able to run this fish down, re-attach the three sections of my rod that came off, and land this beauty.

Fish # 3

Current River 5-24-2010

2010-05-27T01:02:00.011-05:00

Contrary to the fishing report, contrary to the water level report, contrary to the guide reports, and contrary to the weather reports, we decided to hit the river this past Sunday. The water was up, to say the least. It was the dirtiest, the highest, and the fastest I've ever seen the Current. We paid for it with blood, bruises, broken rods, and big browns. It was a day to remember.

John ("JD"), Joe ("Trip"), Johnston ("Stone") and I hit the Current this past weekend. Armed with sinking lines and huge streamers, we went for the big dogs. Our 2.5 hour drive to the river at 6 a.m. could have turned out to be completely worthless but we needed a fix. I needed a fix. It's been since March since I've caught a trout and I didn't really care about the conditions. We rolled out with hopes of hitting it big on heavy tackle and really, really large streamers. We were pleased with the results, despite sacrificing a little bit of ourselves and our equipment to the river.

Turning the corner and dropping down that familiar decline into Montauk, I couldn't believe how off-color the water was. I have fished the river as high as 1.9 on the gage at Montauk. I'd never tried it at 2.4. The clarity was like watered down chocolate milk that had settled for a day or so. On the banks you could see the bottom but places where the water was more than a foot deep were lost to the heavy colored flow of runoff falling down out of the hills.

The river was moving. Enough to the point where US Forest Rangers were patroling in a 16 foot john boat powered by a jet outboard keeping floaters off the water. In fact, a large group of floaters (15+) who had come down for a week long float had to delay their departure from Baptist when the "fuzz" motored up stream as they were about to put in. I felt bad for the group. I couldn't imagine anything worse than being forced to delay an amazing float simply because Rangers didn't think it was safe........Oh wait a minute, their layover was on one of the best trout rivers I've ever known. Beats sitting at a gate in the airport.

When we arrived, we decided to stay as far upstream as possible. The thought was that there were fewer tributaries and drainage ditches dumping muddy water into the river. It was a complete gamble. Stepping into the water, I was seriously nervous. I basically convinced these guys that it was okay to go. To spend an entire Sunday fishing on a river that was borderline unfishable. I jumped into lead water thinking that if anyone knew where the fish would be it was me. I wanted to break the ice so everyone knew that we had not made the drive in vain. I casted and casted. I had two pretty sizable fish roll on my streamer, but I didn't land anything. After 200 yards or so of ripping streamers with a couple strikes, I decided to change flies and run the same stretch again. I slid up river past the boys, and Stone and Trip leap-frogged me. That's when the first good strike of the day came. Bang!! Stone was on the board with a good brown.

Trip hit next as JD and I hung out up river enjoying our surroundings.

As the day progressed, JD and I got more serious about fishing. It did not pay off. Stone and Trip kept landing fish.

The day proved to be particularly bad for me. Despite landing some non-picture worthy fish, I ended up losing the magnet for my net, breaking my 6 wt., and taking a fall so hard on my knee that I missed two days of work this week. Strangely, all of this happened in the same spot on the river.

After the morning, we moved the car and fished down stream. About 200 yards from the car, I was adjusting my net and the magnet fell off into a heavy riffle. Gone instantly. About five minutes after that, my fly got hung up on a log across a very deep run. When I gave it good tug (and I had 1X flouro on) the fucking rod broke in three places. Must have been a manufacturer's defect right? I scooted back up to the car, grabbed a spare rod, and we fished down stream quite a ways.

At one of Stone's favorite spots, down from my hell hole, he managed to land several fish including this big 20 inch female.

In light of Stone's pig, he and I volunteered to run upstream to shuffle the car so JD and Trip could streamer fish their way down another mile or so. It proved to be pretty productive for them--not so much for Stone and me. We were in a hurry because we both wanted to get another hour of fishing in before we had to go home. We were trucking through the woods. When we got to a place where we had to cross the river, I jumped out in front charging through the water like a fucking grizzly bear. Apparently, I'm not a grizzly bear. I took the digger of all diggers. I tripped on a submerged log and when I fell I threw my hands up in the air so as not to destroy another rod. This caused the entire weight of my body (215 lbs) to land on my knees; specifically, my left knee which happened to fall squarely on a pointed rock. I ripped my wading pants, split my knee open to the point where it probably should have been stitched, and I bruised my knee so bad that I couldn't walk for the next two days. Guess where all this went down? The same fucking place where I lost my magnet and shattered my 6 wt. I think the Current River Gods are telling me there's a very serious fish I need to catch in this hole. Wishful thinking right?

Anyway, I iced my knee on the way home and, as of now, I should be ready for my tarpon trip this weekend. Back to Location X. I'm really pumped. Hopefully, in a week or so I'll have forgotten about my knee due to a few 100 + lb tarpon on the end of my line.

P.S. Never under estimate the power of the Current River.

Bass Weekend at Sayersbrook

2010-05-24T10:54:00.000-05:00

I need to make this quick because our tech guys at work finally limited usage of personal websites. This will be a short one.

Last weekend Stuart and I headed to Sayersbrook Bison Ranch in Potosi, MO for a bachelor party weekend. Activities included fishing, shooting, and golf. I was pretty much in heaven. Here are some shots from the weekend. Stuart ended up catching two bass on frog poppers that were upwards of 5 lbs. My big fish, caught on a spinning rod, weighed in at 4.5. Great weekend and a good opportunity to catch some large mouth.

April 16

2010-04-16T10:52:00.004-05:00

Well I turned 30 today. I had to update my profile description which formerly said "...an attorney in my late twenties." I don't feel older. I sound older. I still don't think of myself as an adult. Is there something wrong with that? All I want to do is fish and hunt and sometimes play golf.

I was trying to remember if I had any goals I wanted to accomplish by the time I was 30. Only one thing came to mind. I used to tell myself that I wouldn't get married until I was 30. I guess I screwed that up. Oh well. Getting married at 29 was one of the best decisions I've ever made. I think I found the perfect match.

Who needs goals anyway?

I'm gonna leave work today and go fishing.

In Need of a Quick Fix....

2010-04-08T09:38:00.002-05:00

Unfortunately, my chances of hitting the river this weekend are dwindling. I really want to float and camp but all my so-called "fishing buddies" have bull shit to attend to. I've been trying to satisfy my craving locally after work. Thank God for bass and golf course ponds!

March 2010

2010-04-07T13:13:00.004-05:00

March was a good month for me. Including the weekend discussed below with Joe, I was able to fish every weekend of the month! My wife is pretty damn cool. Each trip was a little different. I had sunny days and rainy days; warm days and cold days; low water and highwater. I floated and waded; I fished the Current and the Meramec; and I caught fish on dries, droppers, streamers and nymphs. All were great trips.

The second weekend of March (13th-14th), I floated the Current with Eddie. The weather was beautiful. Sunny skies, mid to upper 50s, BUT, we decided to throw streamers anyway. We fished hard and put some decent fish in the boat. In my new favorite spot, Eddie moved two real nice browns--one on a streamer and one on a caddis dry. We each ended up in the double digits after the float.

At the end of the day after the float, we drove upstream to see if we could catch an evening caddis hatch. We did. We fished for about 30 or 40 more minutes and dominated fish on dries. Nothing super big but we had excellent numbers. Probably a dozen fish each in that short stent.

March 20th the weather was supposed to be nasty. Highs in the upper forties and an 80% chance of rain. Joe and I decided to try streamers on the Meramec. The river looked great. It's changed quite a bit over the last few years and there appears to be a lot more good trout habitat. All MDC needs to do now is change this to a Blue Ribbon stream so there are a greater number of fish. Joe and I fished hard, sticking several fish on streamers. For example:

As always with streamers, you find yourself trying to make the perfect cast--under logs, over rocks, and on to the bank. These risks do not always pay off. Don't try this at home. This is a good way to end your day quickly:

When the rain quit, we switched over to nymphs and the bite picked up signficicantly. Joe stuck this beautiful bow in a familiar spot:

All in all, it was a good afternoon on the Mac.

The last weekend in March, my boy Doug and I hit the Current to wade fish. This was the worst weather yet, or at least it was supposed to be. The forecast called for heavy rain and storms Saturday night into Sunday morning. We were risking a blown out river by going but I figured rising, chalky water would be good for streamers. We decided to leave a little later in the morning (6:45) to see how much the USGS gauge at Montauk would rise over night. At first glance in the morning, the river looked like it didn't come up at all. Maybe it didn't rain there? It was pouring at my house. Doug and I went for it anyway. The guage never lies right? About an hour and a half down highway 44, I realized that the USGS website was down and it hadn't been updated since 10 pm the previous evening. Considering it had rained all night, I thought we were fucked.

When we arrived, the river was up probably 6 or 8 inches higher than it had been when I was with Eddie. The water was also slightly stained which was perfect. The risk paid off. We absolutley dominated fish on streamers. It took about a half hour to find out what was hot. Once we did, each of us fished the same fly all day. We caugh fish steadily and managed to land a few that pushed the 18 inch mark.

It was really one of the best days I've had streamer fishing on the Current in a while. I moved at least two fish that were huge (i.e. 22 +), and stuck probably 30 or 40 on the day. Doug, who is relatively new to the sport, really took to streamer fishing. He smoked this 17 inch rainbow all by his lonesome and I think he had a career changing day.

At about 4 in the afternoon the sun came out and Doug and I switched over to dries. We stuck a few on top to close out the day and hit the road. What an awesome day! What an awesome month!!

Current River 3/7/10

2010-03-11T15:55:00.002-06:00

This past Sunday was a perfect day for fishing. It was a beautiful day, the water conditions were excellent for dries and droppers, and I had good company to fish with - Mr. Joe Scott. Check out this tight loop:

Being that it was the first weekend of trout season, Joe and I decided we'd float to get away from the crowds. It was the right call. We did not see a single fisherman the entire day. I really couldn't believe it. It was also nice fishing out of the boat because we were able to haul our cooler, lunch, lots of tackle, and about 6 fly rods. I love not having to re-rig every time you want to change techniques. We fished with dries, nymphs, streamers - we even through some sinking lines.

The morning started out pretty slow. We caught fish on varrious patterns but couldn't seem to find the magic bug. The caddis were coming off pretty good and I managed to stick one small wild rainbow on a dry, but the fish did not seem to be into the caddis, or at least not the adult caddis. We tried caddis worms, soft hackles, pupa, emergers, dries - nothing was consistent.

I spent a significant amount of time checking to see what was going on under water. Turning over various rocks revealed caddis worms, several different colors and sizes of mayfly nymphs, stone fly nymphs, sculpin, scuds, etc. I love the fact that Current is such a clean, healthy stream. I also saw a lot of crawdads. This guy was right next to the boat so I decided to snap some underwater shots:

The coolest bug I found, and this is only the second time I've seen one of these on the Current, was an acquatic worm (i.e. the San Juan Worm). Check this sucker out:

I don't know why, but I've always felt like I'm cheating when I'm fishing San Juans. Something about throwing a fluorescent worm just screams trout park. Now I won't feel as bad when I tie one of these on. If this is actually part of the fish's diet, and not just some powerbait-esque attractor, I'll be down to fish it more often. I wonder if I could throw it as a dropper. That would be cool.

Anyway, the further down river we floated, the better the fishing got. Perhaps it was just a time of day thing beause I know the holes in the upper section can fish well, but the fish started nailing caddis and steamers down river. I couldn't believe they were hitting streamers on a bright sunny day with clear water! I was not complaining.

We stopped and spent the majority of the aftenroon in what I think is my new favorite stretch of river. No chance I'm sharing the location. We ended up netting probably 25-30 fish in the afternoon. Mostly browns but, unfortunately, none were real big. Our largest was probably around 14 or 15.

It was a really cool afternoon because it was pretty much all sight casting with dries and droppers. The fish were going ape-shit over the fly too. It would hit the water and they would almost fight each other over who got to eat it. They were very active. I was really digging it.

Great day on the water. It was my first time back to the Current in quite a while. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it.

White River Feb. 2010 Part II

2010-03-05T09:52:00.002-06:00

Friday evening, Stuart and Billy arrived charged and ready to party. Unfortunately, after a long day chucking and ducking, John, Stone, and I needed a little recharge. When the boys arrived, we grabbed a quick bite to eat, had a cocktail or two, and the three of us hit the rack. Actually, I think Stone stayed up for while as he requires no sleep when he's on a fishing trip. Wouldn't you love to be 25 again? Immune from hangovers, full of energy, and always ready to put your waders on. Stone has a way of wearing you down over a long weekend. He will fish 24 hours a day and force you to have cocktails when there's not a fly rod in your hand. It's always a marathon with him. Trust me. We had a long weekend on the Madison in Montana a few years ago and Stone let me sleep about 9 hours in 5 days. It was a double threat weekend. We were duck hunting every morning and evening and fishing in the afternoons. I had to come home and sleep for week before I felt normal again. Gotta love it!

With the full crew at the Lodge, things got a little more crowded. There was a bit of posturing and a few shenanegans surrounding who got the good beds, but we all managed to get some sleep and were ready for day three. That morning we decided to count on a shad kill. The guides had heard that shad were coming through the dam the previous afternoon so we went for it. Worst case, we would get a quick bend in the rod on nymphs and re-locate for the afternoon if the big browns were not active up by the dam.

Again, I drew the short straw and fished with Han (Solo) in the morning. My capatin was Mr. Chris Butts. We got along famously. We started on streamers and managed to put a few decent fish in the boat but nothing big or brown was moving. Too much traffic!! Finally, after watching the other boys dominate trout on shad, eggs, and worms, Chris and I caved and rigged up with a bobber. I won't say fish in a barrel, but we caught a bunch once we made the switch. Check out this nice bow:

Davis had the big fish of the morning:

Stone, Billy and Stuart stuck some nice fish that morning as well.

At noon, we met on the banks of the river just below the dam for lunch. It's somewhat surreal sitting there looking at the huge wall of concrete holding back millions of gallons of water. You can't help but wonder what the fuck you would do if it started to crack. Seriously. There's no way you could out run it or climb fast enough up the hill to get away from it. I think you'd have to get in a boat, point your bow down stream, and hang on for dear life. Can you imagine? Riding giants at BSD.

With visions of cataclysms dancing in our heads, we wolfed down our sandwiches, made Rouse-style with wasabi mustard, pickled red bell peppers, and banna peppers, we trailored the boats, and headed downstream to get the streamer rods back out. Teams for the afternoon session were Stuart and I, Davis and Stone, and Billy and Han. I was happy to get away from the shad-circus.

This was a somewhat difficult decision for the group because Billy and Stuart were new to the streamer game. It's tough getting into streamer fishing because you don't always have success. I remember when I first tried it on my own, I thought I was doing something wrong because I wasn't catching as many fish as I would on nymphs or dry flies. I casted and casted and casted and couldn't produce fish. Looking back, ripping wooley buggers on low water on a bright sunny day was probably not the best equation for catching fish, but I stuck with it. Days, weeks, or perhaps even months later, I finally got the hang of it (or just figured out what the best conditions were for streamer fishing). After that, I fell in love with it and now jump at the opportunity for a good day of ripping streamers. I was hoping Stuart could break the threashold early so he wouldn't get frustrated and want to change tactics.

Good ol' Stuey stuck with it and sure enough stuck a bunch of fish. Actually, as the sun fell, Stuart laid into a big brown 22+ that we lost at the boat while trying to net. With all the excitement of watching a big fish chase and attack his fly, Stu forgot that he had to show a little respect to a larger fish. It took less than ten seconds for Stuart to have the fish at the boat, but when that big girl decided to run and Stu kept pulling, she popped his 0X leader like it was nothing. Close enough just to realize what he lost. Stu took his medicine and kept chucking. I think he got a good taste of the streamer buzz. Here's Stu measuring up the fish he lost:

As day three came to a close, Jamie took Stu and I down for one more drift along one of his favorite banks. As we pulled into position, Jamie said this bank was the primary reason we motored upstream at the end of the day. I was throwing my 8 weight with a 300 grain sinking line. My fly mimicked a 6 inch rainbow trout. After a few casts, I had a good strike but missed. Two casts later, I caught the fish of the weekend. A beautiful 24 inch beast.

While I wish I had been using the 6 weight to prolong the battle, I was pumped to have landed this beauty.

That evening, feeling lucky, we decided to whip out the poker set. I must have used up all my luck on the water because I was quickly outed. Davis held strong for a while and managed to put together a very rare straight flush (almost as rare as a 24 inch brown....):

I think Billy ended up taking the pot. I did not stay awake for the close of the poker game.

The last two days on the water, the weather took a turn for the worse. It was in the low thirties and windchills were in the teens. Waders and guides were freezing immediately (even with de-icer on the guides), finger tips were burning, and you had to keep moving your feet or your toes would lock up.

Due to the fairly miserable conditions, we decided to stick around Copper John's in case we needed a quick break from the cold. We nymphed hard and managed to put some more nice fish in the boat but, surprisingly, nothing huge ever came out of the water near the dam.

Stuart and Billy hit the road Monday morning as Stone, Davis, and I suited up for the coldest day on the water yet. We survived with facemasks, hand warmers, and by making a fire on the bank at lunch. Fishing was decent. Honestly, it was almost too cold to throw streamers because there's no way to keep your hands dry when your constantly stripping line. Wet hands, twenty degree weather, and strong wind are not a good combination. We did, however, catch lots of fish. We had the best shad kill of the weekend on Monday. The birds were going crazy and the fish were locked in on the easy meal. Stone won the day with a 20 inch bow that was fat with shad.

After the close of another freezing cold afternoon on Monday, we settled into the seats of the Navajo Cheiftain with a warm whiskey and witnessed a beautiful sunset as we cruized back toward St. Louis.

The trip to the White this year was as good as it's ever been. As a group, we put upwards of 20 fish in the boat that were in the 20+ inch range. We learned a lot from our guides and managed to avoid any major injuries. Thanks to Jamie, Matt, and Chris. We couldn't have asked for a better group of guides. We'll see you again soon.

For now, it's back to the Current for me. Streamers???

White River Feb. 2010: Part I

2010-02-26T15:24:00.003-06:00

The second trip to Arkansas this year was a complete success. The crew consisted of Davis, Stone, Stuart, Billy, and me. The guides were Jamie Rouse, Matt Millner, and Chris Butts (CLICK HERE for their website).

Per usual, Davis, Stone and I got the itch bad and headed down early. After the slow weekend we had on the Little Red a few weeks back, we were amped to put a few fish in the boat so we decided to fly which would add an extra day and half on the water (4.5 days total!). We boarded our Navajo Cheiftain in St. Louis around 11:30 a.m. The flight was just under an hour so we were able to get a half day in when we arrived.

After a brief in-flight beverage service, the wheels were down and we arrived at Copper John's, just below Bull Shoals Dam on the White River. Jamie and Matt were already at the place with boats in the water and streamer rods rigged. We suited up as quickly as possible and headed for the boats. I pulled the solo straw and would be fishing with Matt for the first half day. Stone and Davis had Jamie "Hey Dude" Rouse in control of their boat.

The game plan, again, was to streamer fish. I love streamer fishing. I would rather catch one good fish on a streamer than 50 average fish on nymphs. That was the plan this weekend. We would switch to nymphing if shad started coming through the dam and fish stopped chasing the big stuff, however, our primary plan of attack was to pound the banks and rip streamers, big ones.

Right out of the gates we started hitting fish. My first cast, in fact, I stuck a decent brown that got off. The second cast I had a good chase but no strike. The third cast we netted an aggressive little rainbow:

Davis and Stone enjoyed early success as well and got on the board with these bad boys:

Fortunately for me, my boy Matteo decided to take me a little further away from the boat traffic. The heavily bearded 25 year old at the helm gambled and showed up his boss on day 1. We netted these two good browns literally on back to back drifts--one 21.5 inch and one 20 inch. Nice call Mr. Millner!!

Our home away from home was The "Lodge" at Copper John's. The place was pretty nice, although slightly small compared to the two story accomodations we had the previous year at Rim Shoals. We had a nice full kitchen, fireplace, sitting area, and three bedrooms--two equipped with queens, and one with a twin and bunk bed.

Ryan, one of the proprieters, kindly offered free firewood, ice, and propane for our grill. Copper John's runs a solid operation and I would recommend it for smaller groups.

Day 2 was still the power trio--Davis, Stone and I. After the previous day's success with the larger browns coming away from the boat traffic, we decided to head down river in the trucks for a full day of streamer fishing several miles down river. We chucked and ducked all day and managed to net several more quality fish. A handful of these suckers were in the 20+ range.

You may notice the point of view cameras ("POVs") in some of the shots. When I figure out how to upload video, I'll post some clips of fish eating and the ridiculous commentary that goes on in the boat. If you're lucky, you'll hear an authentic "hey dude....here's the deal." Fish with Jamie or Matt and you'll understand what I'm talking about.

Each day on the water proved more successful than the last. Many big fish were still to be caught by the group including one 24 inch hog. That's it for now. I need to get everyone else's pictures and start editing some video. There's more to come in Part II. Stay tuned.

Heading South....

2010-02-11T09:19:00.002-06:00

Today is the day. We're headed to the White for trip # 2. I'm currently in the office but obviously can't concentrate. Have to get through work. Will be hard. But have to concentrate, concentrate, concentrate. Hello?? Echo....
For those of you that have seen Airplane, that will make a little more sense.

There is light at the end of the tunnel. It's not white, however, it's gold and brown with black spots! STICK!!!

Catching up....

2009-12-10T13:25:00.011-06:00

It's been a while since I've posted. It's definitely not for a lack of things to say. I been fishing quite a bit. I caught my first bonefish (and almost a permit) on my honeymoon in Belize. I fished the Little Red River in Arkansas for the first time. I had a great second half of the '09 duck season, and spent numerous hours in a deer stand with both a rifle and bow.

I'm not real sure why I haven't felt the urge to write. I think once I get behind on posting, I get intimidated by the thought of having to catch up. I'm still embarrassed that it's been a year and a half since I got back from Alaska and haven't written about it (although, I did manage to post the pictures on Facebook). I haven't even written about the fishing I did in Jackson during my wedding week. I need to catch up!

What follows is my attempt to get up to speed (minus Alaska). This is the abridged version of what's been going on. I'll try to be better about keeping this more current.

Jackson, WY

I got married on July 11, 2009 in Jackson, Wyoming. Sara and I were out there for almost two full weeks so there was NO WAY I was not going to wet a line.

The most memorable fishing day was our guided trip on the South Fork. We fished with Worldcast Anglers and I would recommend them to anyone headed that way. Salmon flies were the bug of choice and we ended up boating several nice fish on dries before the day was over.

The highlight of the day was landing a 19 inch tagged cutthroat. I was in the boat with Davis and we were both very excited and surprised when we got a glimpse of the tag. We basically equated the tagged trout to shooting a banded duck. After netting, photos, and release, I could tell Big John was a little jealous as this was something he had never done.

It did not last long. John, who is basically the luckiest person I know, hooked another tagged fish just 10 minutes after I got mine. It was an amazing turn of events. Seriously, imagine shooting two banded ducks with your best friend within ten minutes of each other. Not bad. Our guide later told us that he had not seen a tagged fish in his boat in the past five years. It was pretty cool. JD and I plan to get a dual mount with both fish and their tags attached. Yes, we kept the tags.

I would have posted some pictures of these fish but, unfortunately, shortly after returning from Jackson, my hard drive decided to fry itself and I lost all of my pictures. The official diagnosis for the 8 month old desktop was "defective hard drive." Thanks Dell!!

Deer Season '09

Let me give you a quick breakdown of deer season:

Rifle Hunting: Ryan sits in the stand and doesn't see a deer. Ryan climbs down and drinks with the Holtsman boys.

Ryan gets back in the stand and sees a non-legal buck. Ryan gets down and drinks with the Holtsman boys.

Ryan gets up in the stand, takes a bathroom break and misses a chance to shoot a doe. Chris shoots a real nice 8 pointer. Ryan gets down, drinks with the Holtsman boys and talks about Chris' deer.

Ryan sits in Chris' stand, doesn't see a deer. It starts to pour down rain, Ryan goes duck hunting.

Bow Hunting: Ryan sits in a stand at Eddie's farm and sees 50 deer at about 200 yards. Ryan gets burned by a doe while watching the other deer. Ryan watches Davis kill a deer through his binoculars.

Ryan sits in a stand at Henry's farm and doesn't see any deer. Davis kills another deer in his fucking yard while sitting on his patio with a beer.

Ryan sits in a stand at Sara's dad's house, has 4 doe trot under his stand, draws his bow and the arrow falls off the string.

I don't know if I just suck at deer hunting or what. Hopefully I'm saving all my karma for turkey season.

Duck Season '09

While it started off relatively slow, I would say the '09 Duck Season ended with a bang (no pun intended). I had some of the best duck hunting days I've ever experienced and one day that I will never forget. The day of the year (and my hunting career thus far) came just days after a pretty slow hunt that I had at Raccoon Ranch with Stone. The reason I remember that, and the reason I will never forget the slow hunt, is because I managed to go for a swim submerging my entire body, gun, shells, and camera. My Barretta was on the bottom of the slough, twice (I fell a second time while trying to recover from the first fall). When I got home that night, I was very meticulous about taking my gun apart, cleaning every moving part, and letting it air dry.

Just days later, a front moved in. A big front. We had 20-40 mph Northwest winds gusting up to 60 mph. Snow, rain, sleet, and a shit ton of ducks came with it. JD and I geared up and headed out to Duck's Rest. We climbed into D-3 (name of the blind) just in time for first shot. Sure enough, right as we loaded our guns, a dozen mallards dove in. With the wind howling like it was, these ducks were basically stationary in the air as they tried to land, hovering about 20 yards from our blind. Davis quickly tripled. I aimed, squeezed the trigger, and all I heard was "click." I cycled my shell and pulled again---"click." The third shell finally fired and I dropped a mallard.

I thought it was a fluke but this continued to happen. Pack after pack of ducks dropped in like they were on strings but my fucking gun would not fire. Davis tripled again and had his limit plus two bonus ducks in about 30 minutes. Eventually, I gave up on my Barretta and used his Winchester to get my remaining mallards. We went back to the "Duk Bus" and I soaked my gun in Gun Scrubber. I guess I didn't use enough solvent the first time because after dousing everything a second time, I didn't have any more problems. What a day in the blind! I learned the hard way how to properly clean my gun.

Belize

My duck season was cut short when Sara and I left for Belize. I was fine with trading cammo and waders for swimsuits, sunscreen, and salt water fly rods. The trip to Belize in December was our delayed honeymoon and, like the wedding, it had to involve a little bit of fishing. Sara's blog really details the trip well. I strongly recommend checking out the pictures and stories:

CLICK HERE

Scroll down to the Belize posts. I promise you'll enjoy them.

At the risk of avoiding redundancy, I will defer to Sara's post for the pictures and most of the details. I do have two comments however. First, I need to talk about my shots at permit. My first guided day, we had perfect conditions and saw a ton of permit. Unfortunately, things were not going my way. The last section of my rod kept falling off when I was casting--I needed wax for that ferrule. My fly line kept getting knotted at my feet--I should have changed it out prior to leaving. Twice I hooked bonefish out of the middle of a school of permit--good cast, bad luck. One permit, a good 15 pounder, actually struck and missed my fly altogether--I hope he starves. Literally dozens of fish chased and chased and chased and chased but they did not eat. I guess the elusive permit won the day. Conditions on the second day of guided fishing were terrible for permit. We ended up seeing one or two but nothing like the day before.

The second comment I have, and no this is not just ass kissing, is that I have a pretty amazing wife. She really supports my fishing addiction, as evidenced by the fact that I fished at my wedding and on my honeymoon. She's a wonderful companion and I'm really lucky to have found her. Seriously, I fished almost everyday of our honeymoon. Even if it was on the beach in the morning while she was asleep, I got out just about everyday. Trust me when I say that my best catch was back at the room in bed.

Little Red River, AR

JD, Stone, Joe Scott and I threw together an impromptu trip to the Little Red to fish with Jamie Rouse. This was the first of two trips to AR this year and I am already jonesing for # 2. For the second trip, we are headed to the White over Valentine's Day weekend. Again, evidence that wife = awesome.

Fishing on the Little Red was pretty slow but the trip itself was nothing short of spectacular. First off, we flew to Heber Springs on a twin engine Navajo Chieftain. The flight was bad ass and enabled us to get a full day on the river on Monday. Jack Jackson, our pilot, was great and got us to and fro safely.

In Heber Springs, we stayed at a place called Fat Possum Hollow. This is a 250 acre farm on the banks of the river that is normally reserved for timeshare holders. Thanks to Eddie P. and his buddy Paul, they let us rent a place for the weekend that was perfect. The lodging was great. We had three bedrooms, a nice fireplace with unlimited firewood, a flat screen with DirectTV for the football games, computer and Internet, full kitchen, grill, etc. The place even loaned us their Mule (the ATV, not the animal) for the weekend so we could cruise around and get to the river for night fishing. They also had a little BYOB bar on the property with a pool table / ping pong table, poker table, and another great fireplace. I gave the crew a lesson in ping pong until Stone finally took a match off me. Once he found his stroke, he was tough to beat. Thanks to Eddie, Paul, and Maurice for letting us crash at the Fat Possum for the weekend. The place was great.

Our guides for the weekend were Jamie Rouse and Matt Milner. They did an excellent job and I learned a few new tricks that I will have to implement locally. Unfortunately, the fish did not cooperate. Due to all the rain that's hit the area, we had three days of full generation. Jamie warned us prior to coming down that the Little Red is the hardest of the tailwaters to fish on high water. He was right. Normally, one would think the high water would be perfect for streamers but the fish were just not moving. We fished hard for three days and caught some fish but nothing picture worthy. Hopefully, we're just paying our dues for the White. Can you say Walter II?

Upcoming Events

I've got a lot to look forward to in the near future. This Sunday I'm quail hunting with Diamond Joe and Davis. We did this two years ago and it's a great way to spend the day. The quail meat is great and I use the feathers for tying flies. Two weeks after that we go to the White. This is our classic, annual trip with Stu, Billy, Stone, and Davis. We're trying a new lodge this year closer to the dam and have Jamie, Matt, and a third guide, Chris, taking care of us for the weekend. Hopefully, we'll see some low water and get a chance to do some night fishing. In April, I turn 30 and there's talk of going to Vegas. May brings turkey season and Location X. Summer is somewhat up in the air but Sara and I are already discussing plans to return to Jackson for our one year anniversary. It's only fitting that we float the South Fork several times.

I love my life....

Ducks....

2009-11-23T13:32:00.006-06:00

So far the duck season has been pretty darn slow. The word on the street is that not many clubs are killing large numbers of ducks and that certainly holds true for the few times I've been able to get out. I have bagged a couple, but it's been nothing like years past.

One reason is the weather. Aside from one large rain storm that moved through last week, it's been bright, sunny, and calm. Although I am definitely a rookie when it comes to duck hunting, I think most would agree that 65 degrees with a light East wind is not ideal for moving birds around.

The hunting did pick up a little during the storm that moved through. John, Peter and I took advantage of this and managed to have a great hunt where the group got 13 birds. The ducks were decoying very well with a little help from the calls of JD and Peter. In fact, one pair of Gadwall dropped in while a vehicle was on the access road right near the blind. They didn't seem to mind the mini truck or the three guys standing there on levee. We killed the first bird and the second one circled around and locked up again on our spread. Needless to say, he didn't survive the second pass. Not a very smart bird.

Actually, there were very few passing shots that night. I think every bird killed was cupped and coming down to our decoys. Such a cool thing to see birds locked up and diving down toward you. It's also pretty cool when the guy standing next to you in the blind has been hunting for over 70 years and he smokes a bird before you have a chance to pull the trigger. Nice work Pete! He still doesn't miss a beat.

JD got very lucky that evening and managed to drop a black mallard which, I'm told, is very rare for the Missouri flyway. It was awesome being there for this. Apparently, the first duck John ever shot was a black duck with his dad when he was 6 or 7 years old. John has been an avid hunter ever since and this is only the second black duck he's killed since he was out there that day with his father. A great story, great bird, and great evening in the marsh:

There's some weather coming in this week: 15 - 20 mph Northwest wind, rain, and colder temperatures. Wednesday and Thursday are looking ideal. Stay tuned.

Duck Season is Here!

2009-11-05T13:15:00.002-06:00

Duck season opens Saturday--I can't wait! Of course we have had a miserably rainy and cold October and now that it's time to hunt, we've got 65 degree days with no clouds or wind. Oh well. I am still pumped to get in the blind again. All reports suggest that the duck numbers are up this year and many local hunters have told me that the birds are here. The old Baretta is cleaned and ready. I've got my calls in my truck and have been wailing away for the last few weeks. I can't wait to gear up this weekend.

Hopefully, I'll have some feather-filled posts in the near future.

Current 8/23

2009-08-26T13:16:00.011-05:00

Stoneman and I put in a long day on the water last Sunday and it paid off. We left STL around 4:45 and were fishing by 7. The morning started with this rainbow that Stone stuck on a large stonefly nymph:

I stuck a few fish on tricos but couldn't seem to get them in hand. I was using a size 30 black trico pattern and I think the tiny fly was causing problems. I've caught nice fish on these before but it was not working for me on Sunday.

As we fished, we had some park dwellers mosey on down the river. I moved down stream in an attempt to block off more water for Stone and I (a standard trick when dealing with crowds), but this husband and wife team did not get it. They just popped right in between us and started casting. You gotta love trout park etiquette. J and I are about 20 yards apart and they don't even think twice about hopping in there. Anyway, it turned out to be a good thing. They were nailing fish on nymphs. The woman, who was decked out in a green Montauk hoody, stuck a good brown and Johnston netted him for her. Thank god she didn't keep it. Stone's kind gesture turned out to be well received and the woman returned the favor by telling us what fly she was using. She said the fish had been crushing scuds all weekend. She was right.

After our friendly encounter, we headed down below Baptist to get away from the crowd. It was a pretty cool day and we thought there wouldn't be too many canoers. I actually don't think we saw any canoes. I hope this means the season is done.

Stone and I started fishing right at the parking lot. There is a nice long riffle where we spotted several good browns. I struck first with this 17 inch male:

After releasing this guy, I went back to the truck to get out of my waders. I was going to wet wade for the afternoon. When I came back, Stone had slid down stream a bit and I started spotting fish from the higher vantage point on the road while he casted to them. At this point, Stone was throwing a tan scud under an indicator.

After a few casts, stone stuck the big fish I was looking at but, unfortunately, he spit the fly after a short run. There were four other fish in the same riffle that I could see from the road. Stone kept casting. I watched his fly hit the water. Actually, I could see his split shot shine in the sun. The indicator landed slightly upstream of the fly so his scud was actually leading the drift. It was right on line to pass by two browns. When I realized that the drift was in line, my eyes turned to the fish. The first brown turned his head and opened his mouth right at the time Stone's fly was in the kitchen. SET! I yelled before the indicator moved. Stone abided and stuck this good brown:

The teamwork was awesome. Stone had no idea the fish ate. He couldn't see the fish from his angle. The only reason he knew to set was because I had a bird's eye view and watched the take. It was very cool.

The day pretty much continued like that. We stalked the lower section of the river spotting fish, casting to them, and watching them eat. They ate hoppers, caddis, scuds, stone fly nymphs, and PMDs. The lower river is really serene when there are no canoes. In fact, Stone and I had a pretty large doe sneak up on us and cross the river right next to us:

At the end of the day, we found ourselves in a nice PMD hatch and were able to stick several fish off the surface. It was a great day. 12 hours on the water and, aside from the first fish of the day, I think we caught almost all browns.

Current River, 8/16

2009-08-20T15:11:00.006-05:00

I fished with "The Hen" on Sunday. He almost ditched me. He was supposed to be at my house by 5 am. I was up and ready but he was not picking up his cell. I was pissed and left the house without him. He's lucky I stopped at the QT by my house for a coffee. As I was walking in, he called alerting me that he was awake and ready to fish. I was a little pissed that we had to waste 45 minutes on the front end of the trip, but it turned out to be a great day on the water. He also had a decent excuse for being late, although I probably shouldn't mention it on the web.

We got to the river around 8. Conditions were money! I can't believe how many fish are in the river right now. I also can't believe how fat all of the fish are. Just about every fish we caught had a swollen belly. I don't know if it's because the river is higher and healthier than normal, or if it's because the park is being heavily fished and lots of guts are drifting down stream for the fish to munch on. I would like to believe it's the former, more natural reason, but either way, I love it.

The Hen and I did pretty well, although Henry needs to work on line control and LANDING FISH. Seriously, he stuck a bunch but could not get them in hand.

The fish of the day was a pig brownie, but she required a lot of patience. I spotted her first thing in the morning in a shallow riffle. I fished to her for an hour or so but couldn't get her to budge. I'll bet I showed her 20 different flies on 7X tippet but she wouldn't move.

I finally gave up, and Henry and I fished downstream sticking some nice rainbows. For some reason the browns were being a little pickier. At about 3, we headed back up to our original position. I wanted a second shot at that porker that I stood in front of all morning.

We got back to the spot, and sure enough, that beauty was in the same little slot in the riffle. Unfortunately, I was met with the same reaction. I tried fly after fly and and she didn't budge.

Eventually, I decided to try some big dries. Hoppers didn't work, stimis didn't work, neither did a size 10 caddis. The first fly that enticed a reaction was a Chernobyl ant. She came up off the bottom for a look and a chase, but did not eat. This at least kept my interest. After the ant, I decided to go subsurface and tied on a big stone fly pattern. After two drifts, she ate. I fought her for about 15 seconds and she threw the fly. I thought she was done for the day but, despite the fact that she had been stuck, she moved right back to her comfortable spot in the riffle and seemed to relax again. I walked away for about twenty minutes to let her cool off and returned again with the same fly. The first cast she ate again. I yelled down to Henry to come grab the net which was sitting on the bank behind me. He causually strolled up and scooped her:

She was a dandy. Right at 20 inches but had some serious girth. My uneducated guess was around 5.5 lbs. Awesome fish and a great reward after working so hard for her. I'm headed back this Sunday. I hope she's still sitting there.

Bass

2009-08-11T16:28:00.004-05:00

I was able to get my fix last night by sticking a few bass on dries. Sorry for the blurry picture. I guess the lens on my camera phone needs to be cleaned. I can't wait to hit the river on Sunday.

Confessions and Congratulations.

2009-08-10T12:47:00.006-05:00

I must confess that I joined the ranks of those that I hate this past weekend. I was a drunken floater on the upper Meramec. In my defense, due to the sheer volume of people on the river (thousands, not hundreds), I can safely say that I didn't disturb a single fisherman. In fact, no one in their right mind would try to fish this section of river this time of year. I have never seen anything like it. At no point throughout the day could I have walked across the river without having to dodge at least 5 to 10 boats, beers flying through the air, or bodies flying off bluffs and rope swings. I can't beleive how much of an industry floating has become. It's almost depressing. I remember when I was a kid, floating on rivers like the Black and the Meramec and not seeing more than 5 other boats all day. I think the good old days are gone unfortunately. Maybe I'll just have to find more remote rivers where Sara and I can take our little ones in the future (assuming we are blessed with little ones).

Anyway, this past weekend was the annual float hosted by two of Sara's friends who are really awesome people. Thanks to both of you for organizing the trip. Sara truly has a great bunch of friends and no matter how obnoxious those around us got, I enjoyed spending time with this group. I am trying to convince everyone to do something a little more tranquil next year. Perhaps mid September on the Current where we can camp alone, fish, and enjoy our surroundings as well as friends. It would truly be the best of both worlds.

On a different note, I also need to say congratulations to my boys Eddie P. and Mike H. Both hit the Meramec yesterday and both stuck real nice fish. I wish I could have been there gentlemen. Strong showing:

After this past weekend, I'm ready to get a fly rod back in my hands. Bass fishing tonight anyone? I know of a great golf pond.

Meramec River Fishing, 7/26

2009-07-29T11:58:00.016-05:00

It's been a while since I've fished the Meramec during the summer primarily because there are WAY TOO MANY canoes to deal with during float season. Seriously, if you're on the water before 3 PM, there is a constant flow of drunken canoers which makes fishing all but impossible. Especially if you're interested in catching big fish. That said, I decided to head to the river this past Sunday later in the day hoping to avoid the aluminum hatch. Joining me on this excursion were John, Eddie and Doug. Eddie and Doug are now on the official "fishing buddy" list which is great becuse both are showing a lot of interest in the sport.

John and I rolled out of St. Louis around 1 and were fishing by 2:30. Eddie and Doug were leaving around 2 and meeting us on the water. When JD and I arrived, we were pysched to see no cars in the parking lot at Cardiac hill. What were the chances of that on an 80 degree Sunday afternoon? To our disgust, however, the canoers didn't get the memo to stay off the water.

Despite the fact that it was as late as 2:30, the canoes were still passing every 10 minutes or so. It's interesting because I believe there are still 6 or 7 miles to get to the pull out at Scott's Ford from Cardiac. These folks were definitely a little behind schedule probably because most were awful oarsmen. One boat actually hit John while he was fishing. The guy in the stern, covered in ink, was screaming at his wife not realizing that it's his job to steer the f*cking boat. Unbelievable! I thought we were gonna witness some domestic violence right there on the water. If I didn't think the guy was armed, I would have probably told him that he was the reason the boat tipped earlier, he was the reason they lost all of their beer, he was the reason their cigarrettes got wet, and he was the reason they ran into John who stood motionless in the riffle. Great stuff!

Anyway, being that John and I were the only fisherman on the water, we decided to fish the first riffle at the bottom of the hill until Doug and Eddie arrived. I believed that our best shot at cathing fish with all of the canoes would be in the fast water. Whether or not it's true, I think the fish are less likely to spook from the canoes in riffles. With the noise from the current, the broken water obstructing the fishes' vision, and the fact that the canoers move through the fishable water quickly, I think less of the fishes' attention is spent worrying about the hoosier hatch. The problem with fishing the fast water is that a lot of the local canoeing talent, like our boy mentioned above, can't seem to handle even the easiest of white water and the fish certainly spook when beer cans and tattoed bodies float through their feeding grounds.

Aside from the drama above, John and I were lucky enough not to witness any boats go under and managed to pull 5 or 6 fish out of that first run within the hour by literally casting in between canoes. As the day progressed, the canoes became less and less prevalent and the fishing turned on a bit.

When Eddie and Doug arrived, we headed upstream to my favorite hole on the Mac.

To my surprise, the contours of the river above my favorite hole had changed quite a bit and offered a new, long stretch of very fishy water. Doug and JD nymphed the fast water, and Eddie and I headed up to this new stretch and stung a couple fish on hoppers.

All in all, aside from our encounter with the "necks," we had a good day. We caught fish on nymphs, dries, and streamers (even sticking one smallmouth). While nothing was huge, it was nice to get in the cold water and put a bend in the rod. It's also nice knowing that the Mac is still fishable.

Current River Camping & Fishing June 2009

2009-06-19T13:45:00.011-05:00

I hit the river for a short float (Baptist to Parker) this past weekend with two of my Alaskan co-horts, Eddie and Doug. I am always in search of new fishing buddies and both Doug and Eddie are new to trout fishing in Missouri so it was a good opportunity to show them the river. We rolled out Friday after a half day of work with our canoes strapped to the car and with a ridiculous amount of gear. Seriously, we probably could have survived out there for at least a month with the amount of food and gear we brought.

One reason for the abundance of gear was the weather. Weather.com was forecasting a 60% chance of heavy thunderstorms Friday night and, having learned from experience, it's always nice to have extra gear when you're camping in heavy storms. Fortunately, the storms stayed to the South of Missouri Friday and, despite a pretty good chance of rain each day that weekend, we managed to avoid any inclement weather.

The fish also decided to cooperate, especially considering the high-water conditions. The river was up, 1.8 - 1.9 on the gauge below Montauk (200 - 220 CFS), which made floating absolutely fabulous, but the heavy stain, depth, and speed of the water had me concerned that we would not be able to get down to the fish. Each of us was prepared with 300 grain sinking lines but we ended up not using them.

Friday evening, Eddie and I both got on the board via the streamer. After floating and setting up camp, we only had about an hour to fish but the fact that we were successful excited us for Saturday's float.

Saturday, streamers and large nymphs were the ticket. The fish seemed to be charged up and were more than willing to rise in the water column for our flies. In fact, one really large brown (in a spot that will remain anonymous), jumped about 2 feet out of the water taking an emerger or some other bug on or near the surface. Despite several attempts to coax this 20+ inch fish to re-surface, he out smarted the three of us and was not seen a second time.

Despite not sticking the pig, we did nail quite a few average sized browns and bows and moved a couple really large fish. Streamer fishing is really one of my favorite ways to chase trout. There's nothing cooler in my opinion than watching a brown just explode on a streamer, especially when that streamer is a bright color and riding just below the surface. Everything is so visual. It's a similar feeling to tarpon fishing watching the whole attack take place.

On Saturday, my man Doug stuck his first Missouri trout and managed to pull in at least two entirely on his own (i.e. he chose the fly, tied the knot, picked the spot, and sealed the deal). Here's a shot of one of Doug's first Missouri trout:

Eddie, who was fishing like a veteran, was also having no trouble putting fish in hand:

We finished the float on Saturday at Parker around 5 PM and planned to quickly head into the park to re-load our ice supply. The plan was a quick stop followed by fishing until dark. One cool side note, while loading the boats on the car, I found a really cool bird point (or arrowhead) that was in perfect condition. This is the second one I have found on the Current. I guess the heavy rains and high water moved enough gravel and dirt to expose some new stones. It's somewhat humbling to think that American Indians were living in and around the Current River hundreds of years ago. If they only had trout back then....

Anyway, we loaded the gear and headed toward the park in a hurry to get back out on the water. Perhaps we were in a little too much of a hurry on those gravel roads because after buying our supplies, Doug's tire was almost completely flat:

Enter the "pit crew," Eddie and I. The following exchange was quite humorous:

Ryan: "Damn, this is going to cut into our fishing time. We need to change this sucker as quickly as possible. Doug, do you have a spare?"

Doug: "No."

[Eddie looks under the rear bumper].

Eddie: "You definitely have a spare."

Ryan: "Doug, where's your jack?"

Doug: "No idea. I don't think I have one."

Ryan: "You definitely do."

[Ryan locates the jack and tire iron in rear compartment].

Doug: "I'm gonna head into the lodge. Little bear, you're in charge."

After struggling with the tire for about 30 minutes, Eddie and I had the truck back on four full tubes and we were ready to hit the road. At that moment, almost perfectly timed, Doug walks out of the lodge with a six pack of cold Bud Light.

Doug: "What can I do to help?"

You'll notice the shit eating grin on Doug's face as he posed for the picture above. Eddie and I grabbed beers and we hit the road. Doug's penance was to carry the back pack for the remainder of the evening.

We ended up fishing for an hour or so until dark. Doug stuck a decent brown on a streamer as he was giving me casting pointers and various other fly fishing instruction.

The three of us fished our way down to camp on foot and called it an evening.

On Sunday, we broke camp and fished a mile or so upstream. Again, streamers were very effective as were large nymphs. Being that we were upstream where the river was running slightly clearer, I decided to try the "go to" method that I prefer on the Current: the dry-dropper combo. Fishing fast, shallow riffles I tore it up landing five fish in 30 minutes. Unfortunately, right when I cracked the code, the boys wanted to head for the hills. I was on board with this idea as our two nights on the river with Anheuser Busch were starting to catch up with me.

We pulled out of Montauk around 1:30 and pulled into the driveway in STL around 4. Great weekend. Thanks for joining me fellas.

Chasing Silver at Location X

2009-06-06T09:45:00.009-05:00

I don't know if anyone has seen the movie. If you fly fish and you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. In any event, three years ago Sara got me one of the best gifts I have ever received. It was my birthday and, after my frustrating trip to the Keys where I failed to land the big one, she wanted to organize a tarpon fishing trip. At the time, "Chasing Silver: Location X" had been recently released and I was borderline obsessed with it. Sara's mastermind in gift giving immediately went to work. She contacted a friend of mine who works at one of leading fly fishing companies in North America. It just so happens that my buddy knew the guide from the movie and the guide had two days open that season to fish. My friend told Sara "this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to fish with one of the best salt water guides in the world. You need to make this happen." She made it happen and my friend was right. It's like nothing else I've ever experiended.

Two days of tarpon fishing at Location X with the guide from the movie. Unreal! Every year I get the best gift a fly fisherman could ask for. Seriously awesome. Yet another reason I am not letting Sara get away.

This year marked my third year fishing at this mysterious location. The first year I jumped several tarpon the first day and was poised to land one the second day. Unfortunately, the weather did not cooperate the second day. High winds, clouds, and rain muddied up the water to the exent that we had zero visibility. Day two was cancelled.

Last year marked success. I fed numerous tarpon, jumping upwards of 12 and landing 5:

This year was another great year despite the fact that we didn't boat any fish. I fed 19 tarpon in two days, jumping 6. Little things were not going my way. Several fish simply threw the hook when jumping. One big fish bolted away from the boat then decided to make a u-turn and come right back at me. There was no way I could pick up line fast enough to keep tension on the fish. I thought about putting my rod tip in the water but before my mind could process what was happening, she was gone. Another fish ate twice right in front of the boat and took off for the deep. I cleared my line out of the bucket but the last bit of fly-line wrapped around my reel handle and the fish snapped my 60lb tippet like it was nothing.

Despite not putting any fish in hand, I learned a ton and am ready to get back out there as soon as possible. AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! I suppose I can hold off for another year. For now, swimming tarpon haunt my dreams.

April Reports--Current / Meramec

2009-05-07T10:06:00.002-05:00

April was a pretty good month for outdoor activity. Despite getting a lot of rain in Missouri, I was able to fish the Current with a few buddies on the 5th and had my first turkey hunting experience on the 26th. After the morning hunt, we hit the Meramec for a high-water attempt at smallies and trout. Not a bad day if I do say so myself.

Our day on the Current was interesting. The morning brought warm temperatures and sun. Caddis were popping and we stuck 20 or so fish early on on caddis dries despite the high water (1.6 on the USGS guage just below Montauk). I fished with Stu, Billy, and Eddie, a friend who I met on my trip to Alaska. This was Eddie's first time on the Current and I wanted it to be a good experience so he would not shy away from an invite down the road. Eddie was all over the morning hatch. He probably netted upwards of a dozen fish in the first two hours all on dries. Needless to say, I think he'll be coming back.

As the afternoon approached, a storm front moved through and the temperature dropped probabyly 20 degrees. The caddis turned off and the fish started eating streamers. Olive was the color of choice and the group continued to have success into the evening. Unfortunately, there were no big fish to speak of but our numbers were good. It was also fun getting a taste of dry flies followed by heavy streamer fishing.

My day turkey hunting and Meramec fishing was slow. This was my first turkey hunting experience and, despite the fact that we did not take a bird, I really enjoyed it. I hunted with my buddy Henry on some property he owns about 45 minutes outside St. Louis. We saw 8 birds and had some gobbles in pretty close range but cound not get a male bird to come out of the woods. We had a hen approach our decoy and cluck a few times but no toms.

With no love from the turkeys, we headed to the upper Meramec for smallies. The river was almost blown out and our attempts to catch bass were unsuccessful. From there, we decided to move downstream below the park to go for trout, a species I am much more familiar with when fishing high water. I ended up sticking a handful of rainbows. Henry moved one large fish and Johnston, who met up with us on the river, stuck a decent rainbow to close out the day.

Hunting and fishing was a blast. I look forward to going for turkeys again this weekend.

Current River 3-29

2009-03-30T11:15:00.007-05:00

I crushed it on the Current this past Sunday. Absolutely phenomenal day of fishing. Saturday night and early Sunday morning we got 1-2 inches of rain followed by a few inches of snow. I was a little hesitant to make the drive as I was risking a blown out mess of a river, but I really wanted a good day of streamer fishing and I knew the bad weather would keep the weekend anglers away.

Another motivator for me to get out was the day my buddy had the previous Sunday. Stone, my padawan fly flinger, decided to go fishing with Han (Solo) and it paid off. He ended up netting a 24+ inch pig all by his lonesome. The hog was verified by photos so I know he's not telling me a fish story. Plus, while he has been known to exaggerate, he understands a fish like that is not something you fabricate. It's too great a feat to make-up. It would be like claiming you shot a banded duck or hit a hole-in-one. You just don't do it. Anyway, it was a beautiful fish and I couldn't be more proud of the fact that he caught her by himself. He picked the fly (with some direction I offered prior to his departure), he picked the spot in the river, and he was able to land a huge Current River brown on 7x tippet. Congrats Stone! He also allegedly netted about 40 other fish on the day. I needed to have a day like that for myself.

So I got on the road early Sunday with hopes of matching 24 inches of brown. The entire drive I monitored river levels on my phone. The gage just below Montauk read 1.78, then 1.79, then 1.80 while I fished. I actually think it got a little higher while I was on the water but that's a good thing. I always tend to have better days when the water is coming up as opposed to falling.

Anyway, my concern was not how high the water was. I have fished the river at 2.20 so I knew 1.80 would not be an issue. The question would be clarity. If it was completely opaque with mud from run off, I would be in trouble. I was hoping for a moderate stain. Enough for the big browns to come out of hiding to feed on bait fish.

Driving through Rolla and crossing over the Little Piney, I thought I had gambled and lost. Usually, the Little Piney is a good indicator of what the Current will look like and the Piney was over its banks and fully stained--chocolate milk. My heart sunk as I figured I would be turning around as soon as I arrived. Nothing like spending 5 hours in the car to start off your Sunday. Maybe I could still catch fish if I stayed up high in the Park. I was going to give it a shot.

Turning the corner on 119 and heading down into the Park, I was seriously nervous. I know that sounds ridiculous but I was really excited to fish and did not want to give up my day. To my surprise, the water looked perfect. Slightly off color, enough to conceal the fish and me, yet clear enough for them to still feed. It couldn't have worked out better. The weather had scared off mostly all of the weekend anglers (although the Park was still a circus) and the conditions were ideal for streamers.

White was the color of choice on Sunday for whatever reason and the fish did not mind moving for the fly. The pattern I chose (which will remain nameless) rode very high in the water and each presentation was very visual. This proved to be good and bad. It was awesome to see the take but I had a little trouble early on not pulling the fly out of the fish's mouth when it attacked. I'd better get my shit together before I go tarpon fishing in May.

I use the word attack because that's exactly what they were doing. Some fish were feeding but others just seemed to strike out of pure aggression. It reminded me of salmon fishing in Alaska. When the salmon spawn, they stop eating and the only reason they strike a fly is because they're pissed that a flashy bug is invading their spawning ritual (at least that's what I've been told). It's pretty cool. Raw aggression. The browns on the Current were acting the same way. Fish were swimming across the river to hit my fly and some would come fully out of the water when they struck.

Fishing downstream, I covered about 2 miles of river with my streamers and I must have stuck over 100 fish. I burned through 6 of the pattern I was using simply because fish were destroying the fly. Some fish that ended up short striking the fly actually ripped the tail right off the streamer. I probably netted 50 or 60--mostly browns in the 12-14 inch range. Oddly enough, I think I only hooked two or three rainbows the entire day and two of those were caught on nymphs as I headed back up stream toward my truck.

I moved several very large fish on the streamers. The big boys were excited enough to chase the fly but most would either short strike or roll on it without actually eating. Unfortunately, I lost the two monsters that did decide to fully commit. One of the browns performed two great aerials before throwing the hook. Just enough to get me excited about how big he was before disappearing in the mirky water. This fish could have given Stone's a run for its money but I'll never know. Regardless, it was a phenomenal day and it was exactly what I was looking for. I can't wait to get out again on a rainy day. What's the weather like this weekend?

Current River, March 7, 2009

2009-03-16T13:59:00.004-05:00

I hit the Current last Saturday with my buddy Steve. Steve is a phenomenal fisherman and he is largely responsible for my obsession with the sport. It's always a pleasure spending time on the water with Steve. He works as a product developer for Orvis and he always has the latest gear and definitely has his ear to the ground with respect to the fly fishing industry. Not to mention the fact that he's nasty with the fly rod and a pretty decent guy to hang out with to boot. We had a solid day sticking fish.

The weather was a beautiful, 50s and sunny, and of course the river was crowded (especially now that trout season is open again, yay!). I hope you can sense the sarcasm. Steve and I did our best to avoid the circus but depsite taking a long hike in the afternoon, we still bumped into other anglers all day.

All in all, the fishing was pretty slow and I don't really have any fish porn to post, unfortunately. We stuck a few rainbows early on varying nymphs but nothing was rising and the fish weren't taking any pattern on a regular basis. Steve and I both worked through our boxes in the morning and really didn't crack the code until the afternoon. One thing that's nice about fishing with Steve is that I am confident if fish aren't eating what he has to offer, it's not the right pattern. It's great to fish with someone who can really work water effectively. Essentially, it doubles the water you cover and flies you can present.

Steve finally stumbled on a hot pattern, the "Bread Crumb," which is essentially a Hare's Ear with a brown soft hackle collar. I'm almost certain the fish were taking these as some sort caddis immitation as the caddis were comming off pretty thick. I tied on a #16 Hare's Ear and the game was on. We both stuck quite a few fish in the afternoon and I had the opportunity to cast to a pig brown but couldn't seal the deal. Oh well. It was a blast site fishing to 12-15 inch browns and watching them eat my fly. Also, I know exactly where the big one lives and as long as some local yokal doesn't pluck him out of the river, I plan to get another shot at him.

Great day on the water and great catching up with Steve.

Arkansas, February 25 - March 1

2009-03-09T18:18:00.010-05:00

The boys and I took our annual trip to Arkansas the last weekend in February. This year there were 5 of us: Davis, Stone, Stuart, Billy, and me. The weekend was supposed to start with a Thursday departure, however, as usual, Stone, Davis and I got the itch early and ended up leaving on Tuesday, 2-25. After work we piled into big John's RV and headed for the border. The plan was to sleep in the RV Tuesday night and park it wherever they were not running water. There was no question we were going to wet a line Tuesday night.

We were loaded and on the road by 7:30 PM. We parked the "Duk Bus" and fired up the the generator just below Norfork Dam by about 12:30 AM. After grabbing a bite to eat and gathering a little inspiration from "Duck Commanders," we wet our lines at about 1:30 AM.

Night fishing was slow compared to what we usually experience. Actually, Stone was the only angler to put a fish in hand. Davis went for a swim right off the bat and, with the 30 degree temperatures, he was a shivering mess by 4 AM.

I have no excuse. I simply couldn't get it done that night. For whatever reason, Stone put about a dozen trout in the net, I was skunked, and Davis was frozen.

At about 5 AM, Stone and I went back to the RV for a hot drink and re-rigged our rods for some daylight fishing. The sunrise was close and we were not planning on sleeping. We didn't drive 5 hours to sleep.

The sun ball rose and, like clockwork, they started running water on the Norfork. Unfortunately, Tuesday night provided the only low water we would see all weekend. Because we were without a boat, we decided to pack up and head over to Rim Shoals, our permanent lodging for the long weekend.

We rolled out of the park around 6:30 AM. Davis hit the rack and Stone and I navigated our way to Rim Shoals. After a brief check-in period, we rented a boat from Gary Flippin (owner of Rim Shoals) and hit the water. They were running 8 units and fishing was not easy--especially since none of us had ever fished at Rim or even seen Rim Shoals on low water. Regardless, Stone and I were on the attack.

Stone hooked up on our first drift with a SJ worm. I was at the motor, entertaining myself by working on my guiding skills. They proved to be pretty weak because we didn't hook up again until we headed down stream to some islands where we could wade fish. On high water, the trees on these islands created some really nice pocket water where there just had to be fish. This turned out to be true. Stone and I each netted a handful of rainbows here and I stuck one good 21 inch brown. I was pretty proud of this fish because I had never seen this water before and because I caught him on a number 16 sow bug pattern that I sort of made up. I'm not going to pretend like I re-invented the wheel here, but I'd like to think that my little additions to an otherwise standard pattern helped seal the deal.

After that brown, we headed back to the cabin to grab lunch and to pick up Davis who, at this point, had logged about 5 hours of sleep. The rest of the day was good. Stone and I were in kind of a daze having stayed up all night, but the three of us managed to put another dozen or so fish in the boat each. Not bad for having never seen the water and for working on zero sleep.

Day two we fished out in front of Rim Shoals with guide Jamie Rouse. Jamie normally guides on the Little Red, where he lives with his wife and daughter, however, he was nice enough to make the two hour trek over to Rim to tend to us for the day.

The idea for Thursday was to catch a big brown. We sacrificed numbers by throwing sinking lines and big streamers all day. The color of choice was white. Probably because of the shad that had been coming through on a fairly regular basis.

Our first drift was excellent. Davis landed four browns and, between the two of us, we moved some really nice fish. As the day progressed the action slowed a bit (as far as number of fish landed) but strikes came pretty regularly. Had we landed every fish that struck the streamers, it would have been one for the books, but that's the way it goes with streamers. Sometimes the fish commits and sometimes they short strike or just roll on the fly.

At about the half way point, we ran back up to the cabin to reload the coolers and grab lunch. As we sat there, our guide embarrassed all the angler's in the boat. He re-rigged the rods and, with an anchored boat just several feet from our cabin, he stuck this beauty dead drifting a shad pattern just off the side of the boat. Nice work Jamie!!

Lucky for Jamie, the clients had the last laugh. Toward the end of the day, I stuck this 23.5 inch, fat female brown:

Jamie was a phenomenal guide and a great guy to spend the day with. I absolutely recommend him to anyone that wants to fish in AR. I look forward to spending more time on the water with him in the future.

Thursday evening Stu and Billy arrived fired up to party. We enjoyed a few adult beverages, played a little poker, and attempted some night fishing from the bank with no success. The high water was killing us! We were all looking forward to Friday with guides John Gulley and Jimmy Traylor.

We awoke Friday morning to two chipper guides ready to head up to Bull Shoals Dam. Gully was actually a half hour early and forced the the heavy-headed crew out of their comas. Needless to say, the anglers required Bloody Mary's and some breakfast casserole to get moving.

Stuart was the big winner on Friday. For whatever reason, he decided to bring a fake mustache along. I wouldn't have mentioned this, but he looks absolutely ridiculous in the pictures and I had to explain why. I don't know what prompted this, but it's not too far off if you know Stuart.

Unbelievable!

Anyway, from Gulley's boat, Stuart netted 3 fish in the 20 inch range before lunch and Billy got a sore wrist from hauling in what must have been upwards of 25 shad-filled trout. The shad that were coming through the dam like I've never seen before.

Traylor's boat did not enjoy the same action. We fished further down river. I landed a few rainbows on egg patterns, as did Stone and Davis, but we had nothing of any size. The two boats rendezvoused at lunch and we changed up the chemistry a bit.

The second half of the day, Stone and I fished with Gulley and enjoyed some of the action that his boat was experiencing. I stuck an 18 inch brown and a rainbow to match, and Stone probably caught 45 fish in the span of four hours. It was pretty ridiculous.

Jimmy T's boat again was not keeping up. His boat caught some fish, but for whatever the reason, Gulley had the formula that day. Thanks to both guides for a great day! I wish we could have seen some low water (and I wish I could have out done Stuart) but, we can't always get what we want. I really hope he doesn't attribute his success to the stupid mustache.

Our final fishing day was Saturday because Sunday, as usual, is reserved for travel and recovery. A weather front moved in on Saturday and Stone and I were the only ones to make the morning shift (no surprise there). For the first few hours of our morning, we fished in almost white out conditions. It was very cool. We stuck a few decent bows in the morning and then decided to go rouse the crew.

All of the boys were on the water by about 10. Unfortunately, the fishing was slow. Perhaps it was the weather, the high water, or lack of knowing where to fish around Rim Shoals. I don't know. I really wish I could have seen the features of the river without 15 feet of extra water. Oh well. Everyone managed to stick a fish and some of us hit double digits. We cruised up crooked creek and caught a few bows which was fun. All in all, I will say it was a slow day fishing but a great day on the water with friends. I am looking forward to my next visit.

Alaska, August 2008: The Prelude

2009-02-05T20:03:00.007-06:00

I feel somewhat remiss about the fact that I have yet to report the details of my adventure to Alaska this past August. It was the angling trip of a lifetime. Five species of salmon, rainbow trout, greyling, dolly varden, pike, and lake trout were all in abundance everyday, all day, for seven glorious days.

Perhaps I have been intimidated by the idea of trying to capture the stories of every great fish, every great flight, or every great friend I made on this trip. Or, perhaps I was just lazy and didn't make the time to sit down and verbalize all of the thoughts and memories I have filed away in my head. At this point, however, it doesn't really matter. I have decided to try to capture, in words, my experience in a fly angler's nirvana.

Instead of banging all of this out in one sitting, I have decided it's necessary to categorize my stories. Be it by fish, by fishery, or by fly pattern, the Alaska chapters will take shape as I recall the fish-dreams that remain in my head months after returning from the bush. The fear I felt setting foot for the first time onto a float plane; the unrest of watching brown bears off in the distance never knowing what I'd do if one decided to take an interest in me or the struggling salmon on the end of my fly line; the profoundness of stepping into a glacial river with millions of spawning salmon that had traveled hundreads of miles without food in search of their birthplace just so they can continue the bloodline; the solitude of realizing that no other human footprints dressed the banks of river I was about to fish. It was a land both wild and unknown to anything I had ever experienced.

I'm certainly not going to pretend like I roughed it for the days I spent in the wilds of the Alaskan wilderness. I'm no Chris McCandless and I won't pretend to be. Contrarily, my adventure "Into the Wild" was due in large part to friends, lodge staff, and excellent fishing guides who spent countless hours organizing and planning a five-star fishing adventure that would leave me questioning how those who braved it alone survived without shelter, satelite phones, GPS, planes, and the comfort of gourmet meals and great wine to revive the spirit at the end of each day.

What is soon to follow are the pictures, videos, and stories of my time at Tikchik Narrows Lodge in Southwest Alaska. It's truly an angler's paradise.

1-31-2009

2009-02-01T11:28:00.008-06:00

Another day on the Current proved to be very successful. With sunny skies and temperatures in the 50s the caddis were at it again. I fished with Mike for the second time this month. He's turning out to be a decent fishing buddy now that he's got a regular lady friend and isn't out every weekend night on the prowl. We stuck to the river in the morning and ended our day in the park so we could fish close to the car and get on the road by 4 PM. This was my last weekend of the catch and release season in the park as I won't be able to get out next weekend. Both the river and the park were excellent.

We were on the water by 8:30 or so and started the day nymphing a hole that usually holds some large browns. I was excited to try two new patterns (one midge pattern and one caddis larva imitation) that I had tied during the week. I won't say that I made these patterns up but I did a little internet research and added some variations to what are otherwise standard, fly shop nymphs. Both new flies were effective. I stuck three or four fish right off the bat on the new midge pattern and netted a pretty decent brown on the caddis larva.

Right around 11 the river delivered what I was hoping for. The caddis starting hatching, thick. Fish rose in the water column and Mike and I fished dries the rest of the day. Again the magic pattern was a non-standard caddis dry that, to my knowledge, is not available in local stores. Mike and I slid up river into a faster run and began plucking fish off the surface. After a few casts, I got a very large brown to come up. He attacked my fly but I'm pretty sure he did not eat it. After missing "gigantor," Mike took over and got the same fish to come up two more times. Neither of us could close the deal unfortunately, but we continued to pull out smaller fish. It was great!

I got a really cool underwater video of Mike releasing that rainbow:

The day was fabulous. We each probably stuck around 30 fish, landing half has many, and the majority of them were caught on the surface. I am very impressed with the Current right now and I have the fishing bug, bad. Next weekend Sara and I are headed to Jackson Hole, WY to scout out some wedding venues and to "tap the gnar" on Jackson Hole Mountain. You can bet when I get back I will be looking for the next warm day to get out on the water and dry-fly fish.

Current River MLK Weekend (1/16-1/19)

2009-01-20T19:46:00.017-06:00

I took advantage of MLK weekend and hit the Current for a three day fishing excursion. The forecast was 30s to 40s, sunny, and the water was 1.11 ft at the USGS guage just below Montauk. All in all, these were pretty solid conditions for January on the Current.

Saturday I was joined by a buddy who doesn't get out too often, Mike. He took off early Sunday morning and was replaced by John, who sticks pretty well. John and I fished Sunday and Monday. The fishing was phenomenal both Saturday and Sunday. These were the warmer days of the weekend (in the mid 40s) and I think the warmer temperatures led to the two great caddis hatches we experienced. Honestly, these were some of the best hatches I have ever seen on the Current. The bugs were plentiful and the fish were all over them.

Saturday the magic fly was a downwing tan caddis (size 16). The fish rarely refused this pattern on a good presentation. In fact, the strikes were regular enough that I was able to capture a few takes with my point-and-shoot Pentax Optio on video mode. Pardon any obscenities shouted during the video.

Here's video of Mikey sitting one:

Close up eat:

Mike and I ended up probably landing in excess of 20 fish a piece on Saturday. Awesome day on the river and I'm glad Mike was there to share it with me. I believe this was his first experience with a true hatch and really good dry fly fishing.

On Sunday the weather cooled a bit but the caddis were still hatching in full force. For some reason, however, on Sunday the fish were keyed in to a different caddis pattern. Maybe it was because we were fishing a different section of river or maybe the bugs were slightly different. Who knows? John and I struggled at first to find the right caddis immitation but, once we did, the game was on.

I would normally mention what fly we were using, however, this particular pattern is not sold in our local stores. It is a pattern my friend Nate Anderson taught me to tie and I think I will keep this one to myself. Perhaps this was why it fooled the fish more so than the traditional patterns. John and I had another bang up day. No video this time but I we put plenty of trout in the net. For example...

Monday the temperature dropped significantly. I doubt we saw 35 degrees as our guides were freezing all day. We stuck it out, however, and caught some fish. I nailed a large rainbow (20+) but could not get him off the bottom. No pics from Monday but stay tuned for more. Fabulous weekend! Hopefully I'll be back out soon. I've got the itch bigtime.

1-3-09 Current River Report

2009-01-05T10:50:00.003-06:00

I fished the Current River on Saturday, 1/3, with the Stoneman. It was an overcast day and unseasonably warm (around 60 degrees). The water was running slightly high and was a little off color. The USGS gauge just below the park read 1.25.

The fishing was good early. We got on the water at about 8:30. We caught fish on pimps and caddis (18s and 16s respectively), and various midge patterns. The fish of the day came early--a 16-17 inch wild rainbow caught out of water that I usually never fish. I guess the few extra inches of water was all this riffle needed to hold a good bow. Actually, I think the abnormally high water this year has been great for the fish. Every trout we caught was fat and very healthy looking. I hope our precipitation pattern cooperates for next year.

The afternoon slowed, perhaps because we ran out of pimps, but there were plenty of fish that appeared to be actively feeding. The caddis hatch was strong and I believe the fish were eating the emergers. I threw a few emerger patterns and had some luck (i.e. LaFontaine’s pupa, soft hackles, etc.) but could not get fish to take my fly regularly. I was not armed with caddis larva which may have also proved useful. Needless to say, I need to do some tying before my next trip.

Unfortunately, Stone and I had to leave the river around 3 PM to make it back for previously scheduled events. Per usual, as quitting time approached the fishing picked up and fish began taking caddis dries regularly. We stuck several fish on standard, tan elk-hair caddis dries before hiking out. I imagine we missed a pretty solid caddis hatch. All in all it was a successful day. We each probably netted 10 fish or so and lost several more prior to putting them in hand.

High Water

2008-04-03T15:52:00.019-05:00

Well the month of March flew by. I got busy at work and was not able to keep up with my posts. I ended up fishing 3 or 4 days on the Current. All of the days offered high water streamer fishing which I absolutely love. Unfortunately, I have no big browns to speak of this time around. I’m not real sure why, but the rainbows were the only fish taking the streamers. I caught plenty of them and a few were pushing 15 inches or so, but absolutely no browns to net after 3 to 4 solid days of fishing. I am stumped.

Usually high water brings out the big browns but this month was different. Consequently, my fishing report for this post is short and boring: streamer fishing with a sink tip line--all stocker rainbows; streamer fishing with floating line--all stocker rainbows; large nymphs--all stocker rainbows; San Juan worms / eggs--all stocker rainbows; Billy L. with a spinning rod and different colored spinners--one little tiny brown and the rest rainbows. Bummer! Perhaps it has something to do with the massive amounts of rain and flooding we have had.

For those not tuned in to the weather, the Midwest is getting pounded with rain. I don't know the exact number of inches that have fallen but thinking back to the forecasts over the last month, I remember hearing 10 inches in one weather system, 4 to 5 shortly thereafter, and we are currently getting another 2 to 4 inches today and tomorrow. When the rainfall amounts sound like snowfall forecasts you know the rivers are coming up and coming up quickly.

Fishing can be dangerous in these conditions and anglers need to keep a close eye on the river levels. We had a significant amount of snow and rainfall this winter and by now the ground is completely saturated. Because there is no more room to soak up additional water, all the precipitation that falls runs off directly into the creeks and streams that feed the river. Flash flooding is a real concern. Remember, it doesn't have to be raining on you for the water to rise. It may be raining upstream or somewhere in the surrounding hills.

Also, before heading out and committing to a day of fishing, check the water levels at the USGS website. To access the Current River water level gage just below Montauk CLICK HERE. When the level gets up around 3 ft, you may want to stay home and play golf instead. (Did I really say that?) You may want to stay home and tie flies for the next weekend. Parts of the river become unwadable and fishing requires sinking lines and serious amounts of weight. Plus, the fish are often well fed when the water rises significantly because high water stirs up all sorts of bugs, worms, crayfish, etc.

Both the Current and the Meramec reached near record levels as a result of the recent rainfall in the area. The lower Meramec near Eureka and Valley Park crested at almost 38 ft (flood stage is 16 ft). It flooded major roads including Highway 141 and Interstate 44. Check out some of these amazing pictures I found on the web:

These first two show the Highway 44 and 141 interchange.

This is a shot of the river from 44 near the 270 interchange.

This is a random house in Arnold, MO near Highway 61/67.

Unbeliveable! My thoughts and prayers go out to those who sustained damage or injury during the flood.

The Current reached record levels as well. According to one river local, the river had not been that high since 1940. Someone (I think a ranger) posted some video of the flood on You Tube. If you're familiar with the Current River, specifically Montauk State Park, WATCH THE VIDEO. It’s a pretty incredible sight.

I’ve heard mixed opinions on whether flooding of this magnitude is good or bad for fishing. Some say it washes fish down stream. Others say fish hold tight to the banks and bottom out of the heavy current and manage to stay put. Perhaps the former is why I didn’t catch a single brown in 4 days. Maybe the rainbows I was catching were fresh stockers out of the park. I doubt it. I am of the latter school of thought. I think fish can handle the heavy water. Native fish out west deal with high waters every year during the snow melt and some fish, (i.e. those on the Madison near Ennis) deal with the river gorging or freezing completely solid.

If they can handle this, I’m sure they can handle a flood.

A good flood can also completely change the holes and features of the river. These last two outings were almost like fishing a new stream. Gravel bars and log jams have disappeared completely. New structure has formed in random places. There are actually places where the water is too deep to wade. I noticed piles of sand and gravel that had washed up onto the banks. With the sand and gravel out of the riverbed, I am hoping there will be more deep pockets for fish to hold once the water comes back down. I am also hoping the rain and abudnance of water we are getting now will pay dividends this summer when the water is usually very low.

I took a few pictures while fishing during these trips. Most try to show the effects of the rains and flooding. This is a shot of the road at Baptist Camp, or what it looks like now after they repaired the section torn out by the river:

Here is an example of the amount of debris that was being moved around (look in the background):

The heavy rains caused a minor mudslide below Baptist:

This run just below the park was too deep to wade. You can see how high the water got by looking at where leaves and things are stuck to the trees.

Unfortunately, I have no fish porn for you because I didn’t feel like many of the rainbows I brought to hand were worth bragging about. There is always another day. Stay posted!

Where the Hell is Henry? (Current River Report 3-2-08)

2008-03-04T09:50:00.000-06:00

Well the weather was beautiful this past Sunday, reaching almost 80 degrees in Missouri, so I had to get out on the water. I figured luck was on my side. Not only was I still flying high from landing Walter, but I managed to convince Sara to marry me on Friday. (If you're interested in the story behind the proposal, and there is a little fishing twist to it, you can find a detailed narrative on Sara's marathon training blog HERE.

The only potential downside to fishing this past Sunday was that it was "opening weekend." Now those living outside the state may not be familiar with this concept, so it deserves a brief explanation. Missouri has a trout season during which angler's are permitted to keep fish. The season opens on March 1st and ends October 31st. What this really means, is that every year on March 1st, people start plucking trout out of the river and inevitably many of the big fish are taken on bait and treble hooks. It's really my favorite time of year. I hope you sense the sarcasm.

Each year on opening weekend, the trout parks are filled with meat fisherman bumping elbows and crossing lines in search of a "lunker," as they call them. In between casts, folks bark at each other for being too close, re-bait their hooks with power bait, corn, or night crawlers, and chuck their bobbers out on the water while "stocker" rainbows awaiting their demise flip around on the metal stringers hanging off the angler's belt.

Now I don't want to offend anyone, but this is not my cup of tea. I fish to get away from crowds. To find a peaceful setting where my surroundings are filled with the sounds of running water, birds in the trees, and the occasional slurp of a good fish taking an emerger or some other bug off the surface. I don't like to watch cigarette butts and fish guts drift past me as I fish and I definitely don't like anyone within at least 50 yards of me while fishing. I think this should be a rule. There is plenty of water out there for everyone to fish. Don't crowd me!

It also breaks my heart to watch people kill wild fish and long time resident fish (i.e. big browns). Please don't misunderstand my thoughts here. There is certainly nothing wrong with catching and keeping trout. I have kept trout in the past and will probably do so again in the future if I feel the need, but I would never keep a wild fish or a brown. I believe anglers should be limited to keeping "stockers." The meat is no different on a stocker and if someone is worried about their trophy, take a picture. Very accurate mounts can be made from photos and measurements of the fish. There is no need to kill it.

One problem, I understand, is differentiating between wild and stocked fish. This can be extremely difficult even to the trained eye. I have a proposed solution: clip the fins of stocked trout so "stockers" are easily distinguishable from wild fish. Having done some trout population studies in college, I know clipping fins is a common way to mark fish. If anglers were only allowed to keep fish with clipped fins, wild fish would proliferate. Is it possible for the MDC to pull this off?

Also, what would happen if the MDC changed the regs in the blue ribbon section so that you could only keep one fish with a clipped fin UNDER 14 inches? Presumably, this would take pressure off the wild trout and offer relief to the long term resident fish that have grown beyond 14 inches. If the goal is to increase the number of large fish in the stream, isn't it better to allow anglers to take one small fish instead of one big fish? Would this be better or worse for the river?

I would love to hear your comments on these questions because I may be way off base. The point is, I have no problem with removing "stockers" from the river, but let's set something up whereby wild fish and trophy-sized long term resident fish may not be removed at all. Aren't these the fish worth protecting?

Anyway, sorry for my little rant. Let me get back to the fishing report.

So despite the onset of opening weekend, I decided to head out Sunday to fish. The plan was to meet up with a friend, Henry, who was partaking in the opening weekend festivities. I assure you Henry was only keeping "stockers."

I was supposed to meet him at the lodge at 8 am. I left STL around 5:30. When I pulled in, I had to park on the grass because the place was packed. I did not see Henry's car. I went inside to say hello to a few folks I know who work at the lodge, showed-off a few pictures of Walter I have on my phone, and went back outside to meet Henry. He still wasn't there. I proceeded to put my waders on and rig up my rods. Where the hell was Henry?

Just as I got rigged up, he rolled in. He was with Ryan, a buddy of his, and the three of us headed to our fishing spot. Real quick, please be advised that I will NEVER reveal the specific places I fish and I will only generally talk about the patterns I use. If you are reading this report for said information, I apologize but I will not risk disclosing my secrets to the demise of the trout on the Current River.

So Henry, Ryan and I got in our trucks and drove to our spot somewhere within the first seven miles of river down from the park. We took two cars because Ryan had to meet up with his ride home at 10:30 at the lodge. The plans was for Henry to drop Ryan off at 10:30 and come back to find me and fish for the afternoon.

The first thing I noticed when we got to our spot, was that the water was running a little high and the clarity was off. In my opinion, on the Current River this is a good thing. The river has been running very low lately which makes the fish extra spooky. With another 8 inches of water or so, an abundance of new pockets open up where fish will hold. The clarity issue works both ways. It helps because the fish can't see you as easily but, at the same time, you can't see the fish as well either. This can be good if you know where they're supposed to be, but if your new to the river it can be frustrating. I like the water a little merky. The fish are less weary, have more room to move around and feed, and the big boys often come out to play.

We started our day with streamers. Ryan moved upstream and Henry and I moved down. Henry, an amazing duck hunter and caller, went out of his way this past waterfowl season to give me some pointers in the duck blind. I had never seen Henry fish before, but I was more than ready to try to return the favor on the river, if necessary.

Right off the bat, Henry was on the board. I think he put four rainbows in hand within the first 30 minutes. I was getting embarrassed. I missed one streamer hit and had nothing to show for myself after throwing some pretty decent casts into a deep cut out bank. I switched flies, I switched techniques. I couldn't buy a trout. Not even a "stocker." I was fishing water where I know big fish held. I had caught them there before. Something was off. Perhaps my luck had run out after Walter and the proposal.

Henry and I kept moving down stream. He continued to find success, I continued to get skunked. Not soon after we arrived at a patch of water that I really wanted to fish, it was time for Henry to take Ryan back to the lodge. I told Henry where I was headed and he hiked back upriver hoping to be back in a hour or so. Pressure was off. I wanted to show off some skills but I basically sucked. Oh well, he would be back soon.

As Henry disappeared upstream, I approached a particular island I like to fish. There are two sides to this island. One side is real skinny water where the stream is narrow and fast flowing. Branches cover about 60% of the fishable water and it's usually quite difficult to avoid snags when trying to get your fly in the kitchen. The higher water exposed a little more fishable area today. The other side of the island is where most people fish and do quite well. The river is significantly wider, deeper, and easier to fish. Just minutes earlier I watched Henry fish the fat side and stick a few bows. I wanted to try the skinny water.

This is typical on the Current and honestly, it's probably a good thing. Most fisherman walk through or overlook some of the best water in the river. I did the same for many years until "Yoda," my buddy who really taught me how to fish this river well, told me to take the road less traveled. "Patience, you must have my young paduan. Appear, the fish will."

Yoda proved right again. I took a knee on the back side of the island poised to hit the skinny water. Even with the water clarity off, with the sun out and shining like it was, I was in perfect view for any fish in this stretch. I sat there for a moment and tied up a new rig. No fish in sight. I threw a little bow and arrow cast for my first drift. My flies moved through the hole quickly and skirted across the shallower tail out at the end of the riffle. As they broke the water, I saw a good brown spook, darting up in to the depths of the hole under the branches. I knew there were fish in there!

I threw a full cast this time toward where the fish moved. My toss was long and snagged a branch on the opposite bank. Damn! I didn't want to lose these flies. I was low on these particular patterns. I also didn't want to walk through the hole because I knew that brown was in there. I laid my rod on the bank, and walked way down river to cross the stream. I climbed up the rocks on the opposite side, wrecked my forearm on some thorns, but was able to release my fly. I actually picked up a nice little caddis emerger that someone else had lost to the same branch in the process. Gotta love adding to your fly box when on the water.

On the way back, I crossed a little closer to the hole. I didn't realize that brown had snuck back into the tail out again. As I stepped into the water, I saw the shadow dart back up into the fast water. Arrrgg! That was stupid. I should have made the hike down again. That could have ruined my chances.

As I took my position on the island again, grabbing a knee, another angler worked his way downstream toward me fishing the fat side of the island. He snickered a little when he saw me on my knees. As I casted, I told him of the brown I had spooked twice. As the words were coming out of my mouth, the fish ate. Boom! Good fish in the net. Where the hell was Henry?

Thank you to the unknown fisherman for taking this picture.

After the release, I reeled up and gave the photographer lead water below the island. My parents taught me to share. I also wanted to see where he was going because I knew exactly where I wanted to go next. I made a little small talk with my new friend while watching him fish. He stuck a pretty good rainbow and I offered to take his picture and email it to him. He politely declined, stating "If I hook a good brown, I'll take you up on that offer."

A few minutes passed. It was almost 11:15. Where the hell was Henry? I was hungry so I decided to hike back up toward the car and hopefully intercept him as he was headed down stream. Worst case scenario, if I got all the way to my truck, I could grab a quick bite to eat out of my cooler. Henry was my excuse to head toward lunch.

When I got to my car, I didn't see Henry's truck. I found out later that he was forced to leave due to a miscommunication. Apparently, Ryan's ride had either ditched him or did not realize he was supposed to pick him up at the lodge at 10:30. Henry had to take Ryan back to the cabin where they were staying, clean the place, and by the time he was free to get back to the river, it was pretty late in the afternoon. Henry knew I had to leave the river around 3 due to dinner plans related to the engagement so, unfortunately, we did not meet up again the rest of the afternoon.

I was definitely upset but in the back of my mind I knew this was pretty good for fishing. Except for my day with Walter, I have always caught my best and biggest fish when I am "fishing with Han," i.e. fishing solo or fishing by myself. (Sorry for all the Star Wars references.) I think this is because I don't have to share any water, there are less distractions, and honestly, because no one is there to take pictures. That's just the way it seems to work.

So I wolfed down my cold pizza lunch and high-tailed it way down stream away from the growing crowd of fisherman gathering on the river. When I arrived at the spot, I was delighted to see no one within my line of sight. I began to fish. I started a little higher in the pocket than normal because the water was up and a large submerged rock was creating a nice little eddy in the riffle. I was nymphing now. I threw a drift just above the rock. My line drifted over the top and my indicators darted under water. I figured I was hooked on the rock so I executed a half-assed hook set expecting a snag. As I lifted my line, I saw a very large tail swirl. Woah! This was big fish. Too bad I was way late on the hook set. I stuck him and seconds later the fish was gone. That fish was a pig!

I stuck a few "stockers" out of the same riffle, perhaps one little wild rainbow, and moved down further to the water I was used to fishing. As I settled in and stuck a little brown, I heard an engine way off in the distance. What was that? I didn't think they allowed motor boats on the river. How could they? This river is way too small.

I continued to fish dismissing the sound as a power saw or ATV way off in the distance. The noise grew louder and steadier however. I reeled in and walked down stream to see what this was. When I reached the very tail end of the fishable water in my hole, I saw it. A green john boat with gigging lights on the front and a huge outboard jet engine on the back. There were two passengers sitting in swivel fishing chairs like you find in a bass boat. I thought they had to be a rangers. I had nothing to worry about. I had my license and was not breaking any rules. But I have never, in ten years, seen this kind of boat on the river.

The boat got closer, speeding up river leaving an obnoxious wake behind it. It was ruining holes where I knew big fish were sitting. No way I was fishing further down stream anymore. Those fish were down for the rest of the day, if not the week.

I continuted to cast when, about 100 yards down stream from me, I heard a crash followed by a high pitched rev of the motor's RPMs. I looked down as the motor shot out of the water. They had absolutely nailed a submerged rock. This is exactly why these boats should not be here. I now knew this wasn't a ranger. I was absolutely stunned.

The two passengers got out of the craft and dragged the boat across the riffle where they hopefully ruined their engine. I was not so lucky. Shortly after getting through the shallow water, they got back in and fired up the motor again. This time they shot up river until beaching the boat on a little gravel bar barely a 100 feet downstream from me.

That had better be where they stop, I thought to myself. Should I say something? Hell yeah! But, there were two of them, I was solo, and we were in the middle of nowhere. Could I take two of them? These guys were older, probably mid to late 40s or 50s. Where the hell was Henry? We could have handled them together no problem. I decided it was best to keep my mouth shut and I continued to fish. At the very least, perhaps I could catch a few fish in front of them to establish dominance.

As I casted, the two yahoos started shuffling around in their boat. The first guy, who was actually dressed like he knew something about fishing, stood on the stern and took a leak. Real nice. The second guy, wearing neoprene waders and a gray sweatshirt, followed shortly thereafter giggling. Obviously these guys were boozing fairly hard. I have no problem with enjoying a little sauce on the river, but once you start disturbing others, it becomes an issue.

After emptying his tank, the second guy got out of the boat and started rigging his rod. He had a huge yarn indicator, and I later found out, a big stone fly nymph followed by a royal coachman streamer. He started casting probably as far as he could. He ran a drift and got nothing. He took a few steps upriver toward me. I tried not to pay attention. He chucked another long cast--nothing. He stepped up further. He was now about 30 feet from me. He reared back, and threw another shot as my line was finishing a modest 15 foot drift. His toss connected directly with my indicators. That son of a b*tch hooked my line! I couldn't believe it. Not only were these guys absolutely disturbing the peace by running a f*cking jet boat on a spring creek, but now the guy had gotten so close to me that he hooked my line. Unbelievable!

The guy started stripping in line. "NO!" I shouted, "I'll get it." I did not want this guy creating a bird's nest in my rig and I also didn't want him seeing what flies I was using. I walked down and took care of the mess he had created. That's when I noticed his stone fly and royal coachman. I threw his flies back in the water. In hindsight, I should have clipped them off and dropped them. He would have probably caught the same number of fish using just his leader.

Anyway, I proceeded to hike back up stream praying that a ranger would show up and bust them. No such luck. About twenty minutes later, after catching zero fish, frick and frack fired up the motor again and cruised back down stream. I'm glad they decided to ruin miles of good water to come all the way up stream, hook my line, and take off. If either of these two gentleman end up reading this blog, which I doubt will ever happen, I'm sorry for making fun of you but learn some stream etiquette. SERIOUSLY!

Back upstream at the honey hole, I took a breather asking myself if that really just happened. I took off my backpack, sat on a log, and decided I needed a new rig. I hadn't had a fish in while now. Maybe it was because of the S.S. Hillbilly, but I was changing the fly combo up anyway.

I turned over a few rocks to see what was going on with the bugs and I found this huge scud (CLICK ON THE PICTURE TO ENLARGE):

That's definitely one of the largest scuds I had ever seen. Maybe I should try some larger nymphs, I thought. I abided by my instinct and tied on a big nymph that will remain nameless. I put on some extra split shot to make sure my rig would get to the bottom on high water and started casting. I connected immediately. I think it was the first or second cast. When I set the hook, I knew it was a good fish.

First, I could tell the fish was heavy. The littler guys usually lift right off the bottom and you can quickly get a visual. It took several minutes before I saw this fish roll. When he did, I knew immediately that it was 20 inches or better. My heart rate quickened. I got the fish on the reel, and moved down stream. He rolled again and wrapped the lead fly around is caudal fin. Damn! It was now or never. I had to pull him into shallow water where he could be netted. I had no leverage with the lead fly hooked up like that. I managed to coax the fish into calmer water, unfastened my net, and swiped. Got him! A real good Current River male brown. I looked both up and downstream to see if anyone was within ear shot who could take some pictures for me. Nothing. Where the hell was Henry? I took a few shots of the fish in my net.

The bucket of my net measures 17 inches. That fish's nose is approximately one inch out of the front of the bucket, and his tail, 3 to 4 inches out of the back. I had him at roughly 21 inches.

He had a nice fat belly as well.

With the fish in the net, I even tried setting the timer and placing the camera on a log:

Not great, but it proves I caught him. Where the hell was Henry?

After the release of this fish, I literally connected on the next cast with the same big nymph. After a short struggle, I got a visual. Again, 20 inches or better. This one, unfortunately, took advantage of a weak point between my lead fly and the dropper. The tippet must have been damaged during my fight with the first fish. I should have been more careful.

Oh well. I was pumped I got the first one. At this point it was about 2:30 and I needed to head for my truck to make it to dinner. Great day. I ended up putting 10 or so fish in the net. I hooked the two good browns I have pictures of and lost two other real good-sized fish. I'll be back again soon.

Home Waters

2008-03-03T17:01:00.000-06:00

Walter, from the story below, is an Arkansas resident and does not hale from Missouri waters. And while this blog will definitely detail my out-of-state fishing experiences, it will primarily focus on my home waters here in Missouri. I realize that when most people think of Missouri, they don’t envision exceptional trout fishing. Rather, they most likely think of bass fishing and deer, duck, and turkey hunting. On the contrary, I would argue Missouri offers top notch trout fishing as well. Having fished for trout in Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, California, Colorado, Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Arkansas (to name a few), I am moderately well-traveled in the angling world. While the ability to catch solely wild fish in any given day is fantastic, I believe Missouri offers quality fisheries that rival many streams I have experienced outside the state.

My Missouri river of choice is the Current River, and because many of the reports I post on this blog will detail days on this beautiful Ozark riverway, I would like to take this opportunity to briefly describe the Current and the amazing fish that inhabit it.

The section of the Current that I fish is about a two and a half hour drive from St. Louis. I probably fish it two or three times a month. To give you an idea of my obsession with this river, my truck is 4 years old and already has almost 90,000 miles on it. It’s borderline psychotic.

The Current is a spring creek that boasts 20+ miles of trout water. I almost exclusively fish the first seven miles of the river below its cold spring origin in Montauk State Park. My future posts will refer to "fishing in the Park," which means the section of river within Montauk's boundaries, and "fishing in the river," which means the first seven miles below the Park. This section has been designated as “Blue Ribbon” trophy trout water by the Missouri Department of Conservation (“MDC”). “Blue Ribbon” waters are the most highly regulated trout waters in the State. The MDC website states:

“Blue Ribbon Trout Areas will be waters with the best habitat quality or self-sustaining populations of trout. Fishing regulations will include an 18-inch minimum length limit on all trout, and a daily limit of one trout. Fishing will be restricted to flies and artificial lures only. Gigging of non-game fish will not be permitted. These restrictive regulations are designed to sustain the maximum density of adult trout and offer the chance to harvest a trophy-sized trout. Larger Blue Ribbon streams will be stocked. Smaller ones will be managed for wild, naturally-reproducing rainbow trout.”

The Current is considered a “Larger Blue Ribbon Stream” and supports both wild trout (i.e. born in the stream) and stocked fish populations. (Note, local biologists will argue that rainbows are the only species able to reproduce effectively in the Current. In my unprofessional opinion, I disagree for I have caught several fingerling browns that are way too small to be stocked fish.)

The average Current river trout is what I call a “stocker.” It’s typically an 8-12 inch rainbow or brown that is dull in color, more easily fooled by anglers, and doesn’t put up much of a fight. Here is your average "stocker" rainbow:

The trophies, or at least what keeps me coming back, are the wild rainbows and large browns that were either born in the stream or were stocked years earlier and have since developed wild tendencies (“long term residents”).

For obvious reasons, wild fish are preferred over “stockers.” Wild fish fight harder, are often more elaborately colored, and, by nature, are more difficult to catch because they eat only what is naturally found in the stream. After all, they have never experienced anything else. This is a brand new wild Current River rainbow:

Compare any other animal raised in captivity versus the wild version. The wild animal is faster, stronger, smarter, and more efficient because it had to avoid predation and hunt for its food in order to survive and mature. Animals raised in captivity do not have predators and they don’t have to hunt. Once released into the wild, it takes years for these animals to develop the ability to compete with their wild counterparts. Those that do reach maturity are likely very lucky to have survived.

It’s the same way with trout. When a stocked fish is put in the river and no longer gets its daily regiment of protein pellets, instinct forces it to develop a natural diet. The longer that fish lives in the stream, the more fluent it becomes with its surroundings. It is forced to become familiar with the predator and prey relationship in the river, otherwise it will perish. The fish must develop into an organism that can avoid predation and compete for food with the other fish in the river. You'll realize this when you hook a 20 inch brown that has been living in the stream for years. It’s just as good as hooking the real deal in Montana or Colorado or any other wild trout stream.

The primary predator of trout on the Current, aside from larger fish, birds, and otters, is unfortunately the angler and this makes the wild fish and long time resident fish extremely difficult to catch. Fishing pressure, coupled with the depth and size of the river, make for inherently “spooky” fish. Many fish are found in 1 to 2 feet of water in stretches where the river is no wider than a single street lane. While it’s a gas site fishing to large browns with dry flies in a foot of water, unless you’re very sneaky, most fish will see you before you see them. Once you’ve been spotted, there is little chance the fish will still eat.

Successful anglers really have to stalk fish on the Current. I would like to go into to a little dissertation on how to catch and where to find the big browns and wild rainbows on the Current but I fear this information may fall into the wrong hands (i.e. people fishing with stringers). Those looking to master this skill, and I am not suggesting that I am even close to such mastery, need to get out on the water and fish—A LOT! I have been fly fishing for 15 years and have been regularly fishing the Current for the past 10 years and everytime I get out, I see something different or learn something new.

Heavy fishing pressure on the Current also makes the wild fish and long term residents very picky about what they eat. A good friend of mine, and a truly phenomenal fly fisherman who taught me basically everything I know about the sport, coined the phrase “the Current River lean.” This basically describes the typical dry fly refusal exhibited by many fish on the Current.

Imagine throwing a near perfect presentation using 7x tippet to a good male brown who is tucked into the bank in slow water waiting for a terrestrial to fall within reach. Your fly drifts toward the fish and he rises from his position in the water column to eat. As he moves towards the surface, he lets the current push him down stream to match the speed of your drifting fly. While moving down stream, his tail drops, his nose rises and the fish almost leans backward to get a better look at your fly. Your fly continues to drift. The fish continues down stream further lowering his tail as if he is almost going to tip over backwards. He is basically vertical in the water column by now, perpendicular to the bottom. He has moved so far down stream that you are running out of line on your drift. Like the fish, you start to lean down stream as well thinking a little extra reach will extend your drift enough to give the fish the time he needs to make up his mind. With arms extended, standing on your tippy toes, the fish still does not commit. You try to throw a slack mend to add distance to the drift. The fly twitches on the water ever so slightly and the fish takes off at the first sign of the unnatural movement. This is “the Current River lean.”

While this unfortunate scenario is not uncommon on the Current, patient anglers will ultimately be rewarded by slowing down, letting fish move into water where they are comfortable, and by executing very delicate presentations. Ultimately, I believe the persistence required to overcome “the Current River lean” has bettered my ability to catch fish anywhere in the world.

The Current River offers excellent fishing year round. There is an abundance of insect activity which allows for just about every type of trout techniques around. High water offers great streamer fishing. Crayfish and sculpins are abundant. The following picture is a Current River sculpin that surprisingly ate a sculpin pattern:

The many riffles on the river are good for nymphing. Among other nymphs on the current, scuds are very effective:

The long slow stretches boil with risers when there’s a hatch. The following picture was taken during a January midge hatch:

The river is truly spectacular. The scenery is breath taking, anglers are surrounded by wildlife, and there is nothing better than catching big fish out of skinny water. I am truly blessed to call this my home water.

Stay posted for some actual fishing reports.

A Career Day

2008-03-03T10:18:00.001-06:00

These are the stories from our guided trip on the White River with guides John Wilson and Jimmy Traylor on February 16, 2008. Johnston Hager (“Stone”), Stuart Noel (“Stu”), Billy Reisner, and I all had a blast and I can safely say this was one of the best days of fishing we will ever encounter.

I don’t want this to be your typical fish story and I know when you start saying things like “best day ever” you run that risk. Thus, to enhance the veracity of the tale that follows, I have inserted pictures in an attempt to document the events of the day. I have taken the liberty of adding some detail for the sake of the spicing up the narrative a bit, but all in all, I have not embellished a great deal of what follows.

I also apologize in advance for my long-windedness but this day really inspired me. In fact, for the past 15 years that I have been fly fishing, I have never once felt the need to memorialize the events of one day on paper. I hope you can enjoy a fraction of what I felt by reading along.

The day began with a headache and a Budweiser to wash away the night. Stone, Stu, Billy, and I had a long night fishing on the Norfork where we caught a few average browns and a ton of rainbows. Keeping warm with nips of Jim Beam, we called it quits around 4 AM to nap before the 8 AM wake-up call.

Wilson and Jimmy T met us at Gene's on the Norfork, per our request a day earlier, so we wouldn’t have to worry about driving home after a few brews on the river. As you might imagine, our trips to Arkansas primarily consist of drinking with a little fishing on the side. Or at least that’s what we claim for those years when we don’t have fish stories to tell.

Stu, Billy, and I reside in STL and we have been coming down to fish the Norfork and White every year for the past 5 or 6 years now. Our fourth man is typically “Big John” but unfortunately Big John's wife was under the weather and he could not join us this year. We all wish her the best. Big John is usually the anchor of our group. He is a motivator, a great fisherman, and keeps the candle burning at both ends to say the least. He was shattered that he couldn’t make it on the trip and we all certainly missed him a ton. In hindsight, his absence may have been a blessing in disguise because now we will most likely be coming down a second time this year.

Filling Big John’s spot was not easy. We had a few candidates in mind but there were strict requirements. Obviously, the guy had to be somewhat proficient with a fly rod and we did not want someone who would spend his days on the phone dealing with a nagging spouse or an overly demanding occupation. The guy also needed to be up for late nights, early mornings, and gluttonous amounts of fishing. Ultimately, all of us came to the same conclusion. Enter Stone, Big John's brother-in-law. Stone is relatively new to the fly fishing gig, but is an excellent spin fisherman and grew up sticking bass the size of your thigh. Needless to say, Stone figured out the long stick pretty quickly and had Wilson saying "that Stone is just fishy" by the end of the day. Here is a shot of the crew:

From left to right: Stu, Billy, me, Stone.

Well, as I was saying, at 8 AM Jimmy T and Wilson let themselves into our cabin at Gene’s to rustle us out of bed. The first big news of the day, to everyones’ surprise, was that they were not running any water on the White. This meant “fish eyes” were in play and our odds of hooking a hog went up slightly. We loaded our gear and coolers into the car, stopped for more beer on the ride to the White, and discussed our plan of attack.

There is always something interesting about walking in to the quick shop at eight in the morning with a beer in hand and placing more beer on the counter. You certainly get some interesting looks from the cashier. This morning, however, was slightly different. The cashier had a mullet down to the center of his back. He wore cut off sweat pant shorts and a wife beater to hide is 350 lb girlish figure. Without even batting an eye, he rung us up, flashed a toothless smile, and most likely cracked a beer himself shortly after we left.

On the ride over to the White, Stone learned his first lesson in fly fishing: “the wader fart.” He must have laid one down just as he was getting into the ride at the quick shop and when the smell didn’t hit immediately, he thought he got away with one. To his surprise, and per the usual wader marinade process, the stank hit about 15 minutes later when he repositioned himself on the seat. The windows dropped in flash and Wilson nearly had to pull the car over as his eyes were watering from the stench. After the Suburban finally aired out, we were at the river. Thanks for a pleasant ride Stone.

Pulling in to our parking spot and gazing out over the water, we were pleased to see we had a little room to fish. There were probably 5 or 6 other fisherman on the shoal, but it was not too crowded. The 35 degree rainy day was doing a great job keeping people off the water. A real quick side note, where I come from we usually don’t disclose the location of where we catch fish, especially big fish, because when word gets out, local yocals like our friend in the quick shop go bait casting and start sticking trophy browns in their freezers. I don’t know what the policy is on this forum, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Back to the story.

So we gear up and head to the river. I am lucky enough to be fishing one of two 10 foot Sage Z-axis rods so graciously loaned to Wilson by Cary Marcus. I had the 5wt and Stone had the 4wt. Thanks again Cary. Those rods are sweet! I am definitely in the market now for a 10 footer to add to my collection.

As we hit the river bed, I was very anxious to get started and to get on the board with a brown. I gulped down my remaining Bud, disposed of the can and quickly grabbed the first spot in the tail out of the shoal. Stone set up just above me in the faster water, Stu directly below me, and Billy was the furthest down stream. Jimmy T and Wilson were circulating between the four of us pointing out productive water and spotting fish.

Fishing sow bug patterns, I hooked into my first brown within about 10 minutes. As Wilson netted him, I reached for my camera. The damn thing was out of batteries. We quickly did some shuffling and Stone snapped this shot with the camera he was holding.

The first fish of the day. Hopefully there would be more to come. By the way, the guy in the background (over Wilson’s left shoulder) is not a member of our party.

Now in the past, it has been my experience that I always have the best days when I am either fishing solo or when I forget my camera. Although we had two functional cameras on the water that day other than mine, I felt my dead batteries might be a sign or at least bring some good karma. After a quick kiss and release, I was casting again.

The second fish came within the next 15 or 20 minutes. BAM! Another beautiful brown pushing 20 inches:

I was starting to have fun. I could see fish moving all around the pockets in front of me. Visibility was decent, we found a hot pattern, and the fish were eating. I was also starting to get a little cocky as nobody else in the group had a brown in the net yet.

I yelled down to Stu: “You wanna get a little action for the biggest fish of the day?”

Stu quickly responded: “nice call after landing your first two.” The bet for the day was appropriately set at 50 cents for the biggest fish.

Stu struck next with Jimmy T at his side. I heard the stick come from just below me: “THSIK!” There is nothing like that sound. The sound when your line lifts off the water and comes tight to a fish. You lift, often questioning whether you’ve stuck the bottom or a trout, then you see the fish roll or flash and you know you’re in business. What a feeling. Stu’s fish ran and performed an aerial throwing the hook. Stu let out a high-pitched “F###! That was a good one.” I snickered and we continued casting.

As Billy was putting bow after bow in hand down stream, a larger brown moved in the pocket no more than 15 feet in front of me. Wilson snuck in at my side offering “that fish is easily 30 inches.” My heart rate picked up. It was on. This is what we came down here for. This is White River fishing. I still had the sow bug on that was cleaning up. I figured one good presentation and I would see his mouth open. To my surprise, cast after cast was met with refusals. The fish moved around the pocket. He settled on the far side, then the near side again. He moved further across the river, down stream, then upstream. He was not comfortable and was not eating. Finally, after about 15 minutes of heart pounding disappointment, he made a significant move up stream about 15 yards. I could still see him at this point, but any cast I threw that far up river would have been poaching. This was now Stone’s fish.

Wilson shifted positions to Stone’s side. I continued to cast for smaller fish in front of me, but I was really listening to the coaching coming from up river. As I was pulling in a small bow, I heard that sound: “THSIK!” This time it was followed by “you gott’em Stone. Stay calm.” I immediately backed out of the river. I saw the huge brown silhouette dart down stream as Stone got him on the reel. “This is a twenty pound fish,” Wilson stated in the same breath telling Stone to stay calm. How do you do that, I wondered. 20 lbs and staying calm cannot be used in the same sentence when it comes to fly fishing. Stone played the fish well and started following him down stream. The hog was heading for a log jam. Wilson yelled “back up, back up don’t let him….” Just then the taught line sprang out of the water back to its origin and draped over Stone’s shoulder. He was gone. Stone was dumbfounded. It took about 2 minutes and it was over. “Nice job Stoney,” I exclaimed, “at least you got him to eat.” Needless to say, this did not satisfy Stone’s disappointment. He backed out of the water for a beer and the day continued on.

With the Stoneman taking a breather, I slid up in to the faster water where he was fishing and began plucking a few bows. Stu and Jimmy T shifted up into the water I was fishing, and Billy followed suit taking over Stu’s old spot. Shortly after our shift, Stu laid into a good brown. After a short play, he had this sucker in the net and was on the board with a qualifier. This was the largest fish of the day so far:

“I bet your wishing it was $20 per man now,” I exclaimed. After the release of Stu’s trophy and a few photo ops together, I managed to stick two more great browns out of Stone’s former spot.

I was ready for a “sodey” and a breather. We were now shooting to get everyone on the board with a 20 inch fish. Stone quickly housed his brew, and was ready for his turn. It did not take long. With me and Wilson spectating, Stone threw a nasty 30 foot haul to an old spawning bed on the far bank. He executed Jimmy T’s patented reach mend and put the fly in the kitchen. The lead indicator turned slightly up stream right when the fly was in the wheel house. Stone lifted his rod tip abruptly and sure enough, fish on! With a few strips and a spin of the reel, Stone landed the first twenty inch fish of his life on a fly rod.

Congrats Johnston!

That’s all it took to inspire me again and I think Wilson noticed it. I saw him slide his long landing net in his wading belt and I knew what was up. He was going on a recon mission for a pig. I followed quickly behind graciously offering to give Billy my spot. What a guy I am!

It did not take long to find a pod of really nice fish. Wilson set me up on the low end of the hole and Stu on the high end. Stu put a second hog in the net almost immediately.

I followed shortly thereafter.

I then slid slightly further down stream. Wilson joined me as Stu was pumped to have this honey hole all to himself. That’s when we got our first visual of “Walter.” Glued to the bottom about 20 feet out and just down stream of me was what appeared to be a log with fins. This was Walter. The name comes from a long standing joke, or fish fantasy, I have running with my Dad. We have both been in search of this mythical fish for years. If you’ve seen the movie “On Golden Pond” you’ll understand the reference. “Do you see that Ryan,” Wislon inquired, “do you see the heron scar on that fish’s back?”

Well John, I think I see a fish but I don’t see any scar.” I threw a cast upstream of what I saw and drifted my fly right over the finned log. “You see him,” Wilson remarked, “that’s a big fish. You work him and if he eats give me a yell.”

“Johnny,” I responded, “if I hook that fish, getting your attention won’t be a problem.” My heart raced again as I casted. I heard Stu nail another good brown. “Eat you bastard,” I said to myself with each drift. Something wasn’t right. “Wilson,” I yelled, “I think I need more split shot. This fly isn’t getting down to him.” Little did Stu or Wilson realize, this was simply a ploy to get Wilson's fly box back near me. Wilson snuck back down to Walter and I and pulled out a #10 off-white egg with a florescent orange hot spot. “This is a big fish fly, Ryan,” he remarked, “a lot of big fish have been taken on this pattern.”

I was psyched. We tied up and started casting again. No additional split shot. A few drifts….nothing. Wilson then had me mend to put a little action on the egg. When my cast would hit the water, I threw an initial mend upstream of the hole to align my drift and set up the appropriate presentation. He then had me throw a second smaller mend right as the fly was entering the hole. This, he said, would cause the egg to lift off the bottom and drop into the hole instead of dragging along the bottom into Walter’s lair.

It took me a minute to get this technique down, but I got it. “Good drift Ryan,” Wilson praised, “one more time, just a little shorter.” My fly was drifting just outside Walter’s range. I lifted the line off the water hauling in my back cast, then adding the forward haul and laying the line on the water. I executed my first mend lining up the drift and followed shortly thereafter with the second, smaller mend, dropping the egg into the hole. My indicators drifted past Walter. I knew the egg was following closely behind. I tried to focus on the indicators and not the fish. The lead indicator ducked into the water. I set the hook and there was a pause. One one thousand, two one thousand…was I on the bottom? Just then, Walter moved, my line pulled tight and the rod bent. Holy Sh*t he ate! “Stay calm,” Wilson barked, “get him on the reel.” I fumbled getting my fly line untangled from the hemostats hanging off my rain jacket. Wilson actually stepped in to do this for me as Walter picked up speed and headed up river. I was freaking out!

“He’s on the reel,” I responded to Wilson, “Stu, get out of the way.” Stu didn’t move. He threw another cast. “Stu get the f*ck out of the way!” This time I yelled. Stu realized something was going on now. He quickly reeled up.

Wilson began coaching, “alright Ryan, back up, back up and reel.” I followed his instruction and Walter suddenly changed directions and started a down stream run. I reversed the angle of my rod tip and reeled hard to keep the line taught. I moved down river with the fish as he ran. By now, Wilson had net in hand and was moving below Walter to corral him into shallower water. “Keep backing up Ryan and reel,” Wilson commanded. I abided. The line then suddenly shot out of the water like it was spring loaded. The end of my line was lifeless. Walter had bowed his head toward me and immediately pulled back throwing the fly. I fell to my knees and put my head in my hands. He was gone. I blew it.

As I sulked shouting obscenities, Wilson slowly followed the fish down stream with his net. I thought he was trying to net the fish so we could still claim we got him. “Damn it,” I yelled, “what did I do wrong?”

Wilson retorted, “get off your knees and stop pouting. This fish isn’t done yet. Move down to me quietly and we can get another cast in.”

"That fish will eat again?” No way, I thought.

"Ryan, you’re gonna have to move a little faster than that!” Wilson shouted. I got it in gear and caught up to him. The fish was still backing up slowly into the end of the tail out. The water was getting shallower and shallower. Walter was about 10 feet out and slightly down stream of us. “Alright Ryan,” Wilson instructed calmly with his hybrid Texas/Arkansas drawl, “make a cast.” The fish was so close I couldn’t get enough line out to properly load the rod. I missed the first toss. I missed the second toss and then the third. “Ryan, MAKE A CAST!” Wilson was fired up. I was fired up. I threw again and the drift was right on. Walter did not eat. He backed up again. We followed as I casted. “Don’t cast at him when he’s moving,” Wilson barked, “wait till he’s comfortable. This fish is still calm and he’ll eat again.” Walter backed up even more. By now, he was in such shallow water that his back was breaking the surface and leaving a wake behind him. He had no more room to move. I had to get it done now or he would spook upstream and I would lose him.

I threw my next cast and the fly went right in his face. He didn’t eat. “Throw that mend in Ryan. Move the egg.” The next cast hit the water, I executed the mend, this was the shot. The fly drifted right to the fish’s face. I finally noticed the heron scar on Walter’s back and I took my eyes off my indicators and looked at the fish. His mouth opened. I didn’t know if he was breathing or eating. I guessed and delivered a hook set. “THSIK!” Walter paused as if he were saying “I have something stuck between my teeth. I’d better move now.” He casually began to cruise up stream. My rod flexed and the fly line followed. He was on again.

A second burst of adrenalin ripped through me. I am not losing this fish a second time. Wilson was immediately back on point barking orders: “Get him on the reel. Let him run Ryan, move with him.” I minded every word. Walter took us back up to where the rest of the group was. I applied downstream pressure as the fish continued up stream. He was not budging. I had never felt a fish this strong. Jimmy T yelled “has he got a 30 on John?”

Wilson responded “this fish is spookin’ thirties.” I continued to apply downstream pressure and couldn’t move this fish at all. He was in control. My reel was singing.

After 5 minutes or so of pulling against him trying to control the spin of my reel, I saw a submerged log in Walter’s path. “John, is that a log,” I shouted. By now, Wilson was standing in the middle of the channel in line with the fish with his net in hand. I was on the bank just down stream of the fish trying to coax him away from the log and toward Wilson.

"Yeah,” John responded, “you gotta put the wood to him now Ryan. Back up and lay it on him. LAY IT ON HIM!” I moved quickly backward reeling as I went. Thankfully, Walter decided not to push back too hard. He moved closer and closer to Wilson. Everything was going in slow motion. At any minute I expected the line to come springing out of the water. My wrist was on fire. I was using my left hand to help support the rod when I wasn’t reeling. I kept backing up. I saw Wilson lunge with the net. There was a flash of gold, a tail….we got him!

“Holy #@*$!” I was freaking out. Wilson brought him over to me and I saw the size of this thing. My heart was pounding. My hands were shaking. I met Walter face to face, the heron scar clearly noticeable on his back:

Caught on a 10 ft 5wt Sage Z-axis with Sharkskin line and 5x Rio fluorocarbon tippet. While there were no official measurements taken, Wilson's educated guess was 34 inches long with a 22 inch girth—24.2 lbs. I know this will be debated, but at this point I really don't care. In my mind Walter was a beast.

The group took movies, they took pictures. Everyone on the shoal came down to check out this fish. I was on cloud nine.

I gave the fish of my life a kiss on his forehead, gently laid him back in the water, and Walter swam off to grow a little bigger and to be caught another day.

In the aftermath, we took some group shots, shared a few beers, and I made a call to Sara, my girlfriend of almost 5 years who puts up with all my fishing antics and actually supports my addiction by buying me rods and trips to go tarpon fishing (don’t worry, I plan to make an honest woman out of her soon). I called my Dad to tell him I caught Walter. I called Cary to thank him for letting me use the rods. I called Big John and let him know we missed him and wished he was there with us. The smile never left my face. I was done fishing for the day and as it turned out, pretty much the rest of the weekend. What a day! Stu had two twenties, Stone had one, I had Walter, and we hadn’t even had lunch yet.

The second half of the day slowed a bit as the rain picked up, but the fish continued to feed. The day closed with Billy getting on the board with the first twenty inch trout of his fishing career. He had hooked several large fish throughout the day but couldn’t manage to get any in the net. Finally, with the light fading and the game on the line, he brought this beautiful brown in to close out the day.

The entire experience was surreal. Every person in our group caught the biggest fish of his life (except for maybe Stu, but this was definitely the first time he had landed two 20 inchers in the same day). We headed back to Gene’s in a state of nirvana, sharing tales of each fish and wondering if it could get any better. It was a career day for all of us.