A Dose of Medicine

The 08 season in my neck of woods in only a month away- there will be plenty of good fishing days in March, question is, will I be fishing them.... my usual haughty prognostications are tempered today by a microscopic (that's smaller than a size 28 midge) bug that's got my lungs full of mucus, by head pounding and my hopes flagging. So instead of pontificating on my great expectations for the coming season, I'm going to wax philosophical (no Hans, that is not Microsoft's new operating system)...

I spent the last hour watching these cool little fishing videos on http://tv.aegmedia.com/ and although they were flashy and sexy and cut from the same clothe as virtually all the other visual displays innundating our media rich environment, after the initial excitement ebbed, I realized they didn't really capture anything, in fact they were doing fishing and fly fishing in particular a major injustice. It's not, it can't be, about 5 second flashes of monsters sucking down flys and big bent rods and whooops and hollars flashing constantly to the next scene with heady guitar riffs playing in the back ground. It's not about, it can't be about, exotic locations and strange species of giant trout... That's not fishing- that's marketing the concept of fishing to convince other fisherman that if "you aren't doing this, you aren't really fishing". Globe trotting to exotic locals and catching monsters for pictures and chest thumping (and selling gear and expeditions) is the opposite of fishing. Fishing is finding joy in the same section of stream you've fished a hundred times, slogging along on fishless days and sitting by the stream wondering where the heck they are and yet still being so glad you are there. Fishing is day in, day out, monotony and repetition, dedication and commitment. With out those deep principles, the thrill of the rise and the bend of the rod are empty. The fishing potrayed in commercialization of the past time is the Victoria Secret intended to create infactuation with an unrealistic ideal. Real fishing is love born from hours, days, and years for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer as long as you both shall live. Traver understood that, not sure these other guys do.

It's All On!! 08-

Ok, boys. It's all on for another year. Looks like some of us had a good '07, and I'll post the count for the records sake. The Gov, had 9 days out. Mule had 18 and I, Pablo had 30. Ah yes, it's business time!
I'm adding my good friend, "the Farmer" to the list. He may make it out 2 days, if he's lucky. But he's sworn off his evil ways of work and responsibility and has pledged to do better.
So here's to a good year, and Alaska coming up, so cast your bread upon the water boys, and get ready to hook 'em!
PS. Yesterday I broke down my fly-rod, and cleaned my lines. Maybe I thought I'd actually get out this winter. Each March though, is usually my first day out, so maybe I should have left it together?

Last day out

I had heard the rains would be coming on Sunday. Saturday may be the last day to get out during the nice weather streak we’ve been having. Initially, I wanted to go up above Porcupine, bike in a ways, to where Hans and I had had such a great day, way back in the spring. Both bikes had flat tires, and would not hold air. By default, I headed up LHF. I drove for ½ hour, hadn’t been that far upstream in many years. Each year that road gets rockier and rockier, good thing there. Keep out the riff raff. Seems every part of that stream I have fished, I can remember about every hole. Could see many changes, beaver dams, etc, it is true you cannot step into the same river twice.
I got into fish right away, several nice cutts, I was beginning to work this nice hole, lots of structure, could see some nice rises up higher, when the water began to turn cloudy. In less than a minute, it was run-off color. Then several Jeeps passed by on the road. I walked upstream 100 yards, to find an area that the Jeeps had been playing around in the water. I passed by the area, headed upstream further, to clean water. I came across several very long and deep beaver ponds, where the water had flooded the banks, and was causing the stream to change course. Some of the “ponds” stretched upstream 100 yards or more, and were above waist high. I wished I had a few sticks of dynamite, thought Robert Traver would object to such tactics.

Fished one nice hole where I hooked a nice brown, then upon casting upstream and under a tree limb, I had a trout inhale my fly, causing me to set the hook quite hard, resulting in the fish yanking back quite hard, and coming loose. I had thought I had popped my tippet, but upon inspection, I found the fish had actually straightened the hook on my fly. The day was quite fun.

Up the Stream

OK, another great day in Paradise. Up the LHF again. I wanted to drive upstream quite a bit, but the road was too rocky, seems to get worse every year. Caught some nice Cutts again, this time also threw in some browns. Just nice to be out. At this time of year you never know if this will be the last outing.

Gut Shot

With the memory of the recent fatal shooting during opening weekend of the Utah deer hunt, fresh in my mind, it was with great trepidation that I ventured forth to sally with the trout. Nerves on edge, I decided today would not be a good day to camo my hat with twigs. I listened intently for the distant crack of a rifle, that would bring searing pain to my innards.

Today was trophy Cutthroat day. Well, trophy for this little stream. Seems every fall, when the Browns are up to the devils work, the large Cutts come out in force. I was able to dance with a few that you would be proud to pull out of Big Creek, Id. Nary did catch a browny, and was bothered not a bit by the days tally. Gotta love it.

And Again...

ok, boys. Headed out again on Wednesday, up blacksmith fork. Weather was cool, cloudy, bit windy. I picked a class 4 set of rapids to fish. Dumb luck there. All told I was able to land 4 trout, fell twice, cursed many, forgot my flask of liquid heat, but had a nice time out.

Scratch that itch...

Headed up the Blacksmith fork, the main branch. Was thinking of the Left hand, but water was way low, and time was an issue. Beautiful fall day, great colors, nice fish. Made me think of ta king the whole month of Oct. off, and doing some fishing and upland game hunting. Good idea eh?

Scorecard: 1 hour fished. 7 browns landed. no swimming, no lost flies, spooked one grouse.