Twelve Months of Mighty Missouri

The Missouri River. One of the greatest places in the world if you are a fisherman of any kind, but it is an especially hallowed ground if you are of the flyfishing persuasion. Pods of fish slurping everywhere, nymphing riffles everywhere, big fish chasing streamers with abandon. Everywhere. Needless to say we make the trek over Rogers Pass as many times a year as humanly possible, scoffing at sleep, garden maintenance, and music festivals, for just one more chance at landing a hog Missouri fish. 

                 
                                                      

                                     

Blue Steel

                                   

                                   

             

                                   

                                   
                                                         

 

                                   
                                      

Montana River Bass

There is something about being in the grips of a winter storm that makes memories of the summer more fond. One of my favorite days of fishing from the past season was a day spent with Alex and Outfitter Jed Fitzpatrick chasing bass and pike.

 Fly fishing in Montana is without question centered around trout, so for the three of us it was a nice change of pace in the middle of the guide season. These two had never fished for bass in Montana and especially never with fly rods. We chose a stretch of river that I have spent plenty of time on in years past. It is the kind of place where on any cast you could catch a smallmouth or largemouth bass, pike, or a rainbow trout that can stretch as long as your arm.

 On this day we caught or hooked all of the above, although the pike were few and far between. Words cannot begin to describe how excited I am to get back out chasing bass and pike with these guys. Only a few short months and a lot of snow to get through before we will be back.

 

 

 

A nice Montana bull moose

 

A-Train with the Smallmouth of the day.

 

Jed hooked up with a large trout.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winter Cleaning Guide

Winter is a great time of year. While not the most exciting season from the outdoors perspective it allows a chance to reflect on adventures from the past season on the water and to daydream about bigger/better adventures to come. Nothing like a little cabin fever to make you lock down plane tickets and reserve camp sites. Along with the cabin fever comes the relentless urge to clean reels, upgrade tackle, and to hone the collection killer flies that we'll be flinging in the year to come.

I always seem to have more flies than i know what to do with. A sure sign of the flyfisherman is a tackle bag over-stuffed with flies for any conceivable situation: Hexigena, Hecuba, Damselflies, Dragonflies, Isonychia, Waterstriders! (seriously though i do not have any waterstrider patterns. might need to look into that). Sometimes, though, having all the flies can get in the way of the one fly. When the fish are going ape all around you a large fly selection is not your friend. Having a few proven arms beats a bullpen full of experimental jam-funk journeymen any day. So what to tie, what to tie?

When i set up to tie bunches of a particular pattern it's usually because (1) i have had some phenomenal days with it, the kind that leads to that annoying nostalgic gaze we fishermen are renown for. "Dude it was nuts. Fish chugging everywhere. Three doubles in fifteen minutes. Insanity". Big-day flies seem to get tied on more frequently than even the sexiest-looking new-fandagled MFC wonderbug. If you have confidence in the flies you're fishing, the fish will have confidence in them too. Sometimes; (2) If a fly is going to stay in the workhorse lineup it has to be easy to tie. Body, wing, hackle, period. Its easier to get good at tying simple flies and this tends to make them more durable too. When that one chewed CDC emerger that just has got the mojo going for it finally falls apart its good to know there is an entire cavalry waiting to back it up; Finally (3), i like flies that just a tiny bit different than other patterns mimicing a given hatch. Flies that have subtle differences in silhouette and color will get eaten throughout the entire hatch, not just the initial gluttouny phase when the fish will eat a well-presented wine cork. They also get eaten right after someone with the generic fly has rolled through. Can't complain about that.

These are my thoughts when cleaning out a years worth of gink, gunk, sand, used splitshot, chewed flies and old bottle caps form the guide bag. After a few more years of this i expect the have the ultimate assortment of killer flies, all the killer and none of the filler.

Fish on. 

Steelhead is the Season

Ten years living in Montana and I never made it to Idaho looking for Steelhead. Something about spending an entire summer on a raft makes one less interested in hoofing it over a pass in search of migrating fish along with the swarm of anglers migrating with them. But I am a known lush for any fishing trip sporting a strong sales-pitch: In this case it starts with "Wednesday. Going Steelhead fishing. All you have to do is jump in".

Who can say no to that? Chris has the truck loaded with enough gear to overrun any small country. Mountain passes, road blocks and food shortages will be no problem for us. Provisions and tackle reflect the conditions we expect to find in the next state over: cold temp, lots of wind, with a good chance of big fish. Extra sleeping bags, neoprene gloves and wool everything are backed up with spools of heavy tippet and bottles of whiskey: Experience has taught us there is nothing worse than being cold, sober, and skunked. At least we know we have control over two of the three. Game on.

The pass wasn't as bad as expected and we popped out of the truck to a balmy 40 degrees. Not the unbearable conditions that can define Steelheading trips, so far so good. Setting up camp takes no time flat (we are here to fish, camping is major second thought) and we head to the river. The first run of the day is long flat glide with a deep bank. We run our rigs through, mending and re-mending to keep them in the strike zone. We run three more similar runs with no definitive takes. Time to crack a cold one and re-tie rigs.

If there is one thing we have learned over the years it is to sloooooooow down when the fish aren't biting. It also gives you a chance to crack those victory brews pre-emptively. Gets the mojo flowing. I am a unabashed superstitious fisherman and will continue to be so until it stops working. After changing depth and distance Chris starts working the center of a juicy mid-river trough. His third cast shimmies down to the soft water and finally gets a *tug*tug. We had heard that the stockers fight like bulldogs and the natives are the acrobats. This fish feels the hook and goes immediately airborne. Maybe we can get the hang of this. . . .

No sense in going steelhead fishing if there isn't some wild weather. I think so anyway. After a beautiful fall day to kick things off the weather got a little more seasonally appropriate. Sometimes the boat is frozen to the trailer. No big deal.

      who's ready for a little fishing!!!?

Needless to say we will be back in the spring for more. Once you have tasted steel you are on a one-way street. The river iced over solid two weeks later, giving the fish and the fishermen a break for the winter. Its good to know that they are there, waiting for the skies to soften and make the next push upstream. We will be there to greet them, fly rods in gloved-hands waiting for the first jump of the next native steelhead.