On your mark, Get Set, Go!

 

                For those of us that have a 9-5 and actually work for a living the several months leading up to spring go by painstakingly slow.  My winter weekends have been filled with wrestling tournaments and 7th grade research papers.  I have been tortured by stories of my fly fishing brothers who have spent their winter swinging for steel in far off waters of British Columbia and Idaho.  It seems like forever since I have felt the touch of cork in my hands.  I did manage to do some water fowling this last fall and winter and even managed to put some venison in the freezer and help my son Bridger bag his first buck. However it is moving water and the metronome cadence of the cast that gets my blood pumping and I have been seriously plagued with low blood pressure as of late. 

 

              

 

 

 

 

 

 

  So my self-prescribed therapy for this long winter has been to read fly fishing blogs, and fishing reports on waters around the country and the globe, and goal setting for the upcoming season. This season, I will see that new water, and leave the bobber at home. “Stay on top Chad It’s dry or die!” “what a fantasy that is.” During the evenings I would sit at my tying bench and crank out the myriad of flies I will need for the upcoming guide season, cleaned lines, and repaired waders, organized fly boxes, tweeked my raft, repaired the boat trailer and made wish lists of things needed for this upcoming season. Emails and text messages with my fishing pals have centered on upcoming trips, especially the annual fish camp that is coming in April on the “MO” and the need to spend more days on the Beaverhead and Bighole rivers. Daydreaming of the hatches to come and the rising trout that will take the flies I have created.

  

But oh so soon the annual spring skwala hatch will begin on My home water the Bitterroot river and of course as of this writing I have three more weekends of wrestling tournaments, a huge research project that my seventh graders must turn in and I have to correct which just happens to coincide with the early fly-fishing season.  Oh ya I also have an 8th grade field trip to Washington D.C. I wonder if you can catch anything with a fly on the Potomac River in March.  Ugggg it’s so hard to stay focused on correcting papers and the young wrestlers that I coach when things are about to start happening on the river  The weather is so damn nice and the temperature is creeping up every day fueling my passion for the selfish mistress that is the river.

So to the bench I go with a glass of Jim Bean and an idea for what has to be the next greatest mayfly pattern.  I will tie a couple dozen more of these flies and hopefully connect the dots real soon.  I need the chilly waters and eager take of a reckless trout.  I want to feel the sun on my back and the familiar ache in my shoulders of pulling oars.  I look forward to shuttles, and the morning weather reports and water levels on my favorite rivers.  The evenings at the brewery with a pint of my favorite IPA swapping stories with the boys about how good or bad the day was and how our client’s did.  Yes I can feel my blood pressure rising and it is a good thing.  On your mark, Get set, Go!

 

 

A Perfect Year In Montana : A Guides Trip Planner

*the following is a work of opinion, farce, and prognostication. It is intended to be taken with utmost seriousness and intended for the private use of our fishing-adled audience only*

Mid winter isn't all that bad. Skiing is fun and gets some minimum amount of physical activity in. The downtime to tie flies and pick away at the ever-expanding reading list is also an important part of the fishing bum seasonal lifestyle : All that Duncan isn't going to read itself goshdangit. And most importantly it offers the chance to plan a seasons worth of fishing trips across the state ( and maybe the world??), weighting options and piecing together the perfect 12 months of fishing experiences. I try to get after something I've never done before each season, whether is be species, river, or season, and with the every-increasing number of rivers fished this becomes a harder and harder challenge. 

Having lived in Montana plying its fishy rivers for the last twelve years I have developed some hunches. Call it "hunch development" as to when and where to be in the state for best results. Granted these hunches are often informed by one specific year that my boys and I stumbled into a suicide bite of one kind or another. Still once the memory is there and the draw is very real and makes you think very serously about going back and trying to recapture that moment once again. So without much order or editing here's a rough list of our favorite stops throughout Montana and the time of year we most enjoy fishing and guiding them. Dream on .

Spring : Bitterroot 

Spring comes earlier ever year it seems and that is not something that you will hear me complaining about.  After the long dark days of a winter in the valley the thought of hunting sipping trout on a sunny afternoon seems like the greatest thing you could ask for. By the middle of March and rolling into April we see the first chances of legitimate afternoon dry fly fishing. The Bitterroot is my favorite spring fishery and has the best Skwala hatch around : Long considered a "guide only" season due to erratic weather and fishing conditions, the cat is out of the bag and now lots of folks know how good this hatch can be. Its a gamblers game for sure, tshirts one day and parkas the next is the halmark of Montana spring. But if you are down for the unreliable weather it doesn't take much for this to be the bonanza kickoff party to the fishing season. A week of warm afternoons and the back eddies will have these olive kickers out in numbers with large (large) trout hunting them. Similar in many ways to Rock Creek we get a lot of spring sunshine to help get our fish moving and once they see the first helpless struggling stonefly of the year they are on it like ham on any kind of bread.

Although the lower river sees most of the pressure this time of year the entire Bitterroot can fish well. We usually stick to our favorite upstream water and prospect away with dry and dropper. Some of my favorite flyfishing memories from college days happened during Skwala season, half-day classes giving way to lazy afternoons looking for risers. A big Rainbow slurping a dryfly anywhere this time of year is a heart-stopping moment. I still hold this season near & dear and get out whenever I can. If you've got any interest in seeing what spring fishing in Montana has to offer this is the time, and this is the river.

Runner Up : Clark Fork

Early Summer : Big Hole

Hands down the place I want to be for the first giant brown trout of the year is on the Big Hole. No other piece of water in Montana catches my eye like the slowdown inside chop of a riffle near Maiden Rock. And when the possibility of a monster brownie is lurking behind every other rock m tree and stump, I fish with double conviction at every opportunity I get. 

I set my calendar to arrive somewhere near Wise River in May. The high water part of the year is the bane to many rivers throughout the state but not at all to the Big Hole : The BH gets high and a little off-color,  yes, but never ever gets truly Muddy. The sludge that Missoula-area rivers have to contend with is a non-factor over here, and the browns (like the good predators that they are) love the extra cover. If you want to spend the runoff season on a freestone and not a tailwater the BH is your play. Expect to throw big streamers to every bank and sit and nymph the bottom out of everything else. You will be rewarded over here, its just a matter of when and how big. The Big Boys come out to play this time of year no question, with so many of these giant fish hitting the net in 14' that the nickname "Jurassic Park" rightfully took hold.  And then there is the Salmonfly hatch to end all Salmonfly hatches. Truly the river that made this hatch what it is know as today the Big Hole generates these bugs by the millions. Being here early (i.e. pre hatch) is key, cuz the big fish only need to eat the first hundred or so they see then its all over til mañana. By the middle of May the hushed voices around fireside are all predicting the first epic day of "THE hatch". You gotta be here to appreciate this river during high water and the insanity that is a Salmonfly grab. Bucket list year for everybody!

Runner Up : Missouri

Summer : Bitterroot

Not to be a homer or anything, but the Bitterroot for me wins the summer season hands down. Dry flies baby, dry flies. No other river has as consistent dry fly action at the Root'. None. Period. The combination of diverse hatches throughout our river system, multiple trout species chugging dry flies with reckless abandon, and the miles of eye-dropping scenery and you have the complete package: The quintessential Montana flyfishing river. I've seen a lot of Montana so far and no other river has called me quite like this one has. Fish with confidence and leave the bobbers at home : Summertime in the valley is a very very good time.

We are truly blessed by our hydrology, cold West Fork headwaters and tributaries to go along with a massive amount of low valley subsurface recharge. We stay cool in the summer when other rivers are heating up, have all the trout species in whopper sizes, lower number of anglers than other famous flyfishing rivers, and list of fishable hatches is longer then a 20-incher: Green / Gray / Brown Drakes, Goldenstones, Salmonflies, Flavelenias, PMD's, Hecubas, Hoppers out the whazoo, and some Tricos and BWO's to round it all out. You gotta spend a year here to truly appreciate this rivers' diversity.

And the Cutties, oh the Cutties. God bless their little aggressive hearts .

Runner Up : Again, the Clark Fork

Fall : Missouri 

After a long summer hunting said Cutthroats throughout the Bitterroot valley my mind very quickly turns north : Craiglandia and the fabled Mighty Missouri River. Although the BRG crew take clients over to the Mo' periodically over the summer it is the autumn season that really shines on this river. The Blue Wing Olive hatches are truly world class Rainbow freakout events that even us exhausted guides want a piece of. Nothing like a 30-plus fish pod nosing up to flotillas of mayflies to get the blood pumping. So much water out here that everybody can find their own fish and catch to their hearts content. Add to that a building streamer bite as the brown spawn approaches and you have a real winner.

The fall fishing is so good over here that we have made the Mo' our destination for the annual end-of-season birthday fishing bash : For when you just haven't caught enough stinking fish in a guide season. Pods slurping with such lacksidasical confidence that the muttering of "why you smug little bastard" is the opening war whoop on nearly every riser. You don't rise down n' across from me at 30' and get away with it . Fish awwwwn!!!

Runner Up : None, the Mo' is the only one.

Marauders Best 2015

The time has come as we find ourselves yet again closing the book on another great year flyfishing in Montana. With the turning of the calendar comes a chance to take a look back at the past year and reflect on some of the best images & memories from the 2015 season. This past year has been one for the books: new friends, new rivers, and adventures out of the state were all common themes. We made it through with the same smiling faces we walked into the year with, a testament to both good planning and a fair dose of rocky mountain tenacity. A mountain of credit has to be given to the many awesome people who ride with us Montana river jockeys year in and year out, without whom this lifestyle would be considered less of a "career" and more of a "disorder". We raise a glass to all these friends and followers for another great year and plans for many more. It is snowing gently on the Bitterroots as this is being written, as plans for upcoming trips are already taking shape on computers across the states.  Let's hope 2016 brings with it new surprises, epic fish for all, and time on the water together.

Cheers & Mahalo,
The Marauders

BC Steelhead Adventures

Every now and then an idea of "wouldn't it be great if we went "x"" takes root and becomes a year-long goal, a step outside of comfortable stomping grounds into a new arena of the flyfishing world. Well 60 plus hours of driving, countless rivers past, and an uncountable amount of beer later we made it back into the states from BC steelhead camp. Six months in the making, it started as talks on the banks of the Salmon river as Jed and I enjoyed the last of the spring steelhead season before a long summer on the sticks. Everything is bigger somewhere else so might as well go and see for ourselves!

With only Jed having been to our target region we were a little unaware of what exactly we were getting ourselves into. Thirty hours of driving, stories of bears, and a few crazy Canadian drivers kept us on our toes as we embarked towards Northern British Columbia. Every trip has to have a moment of doubt and our came early on. Smooth sailings were the order until we encountered the Jasper ice fields, wherein the words "I don't remember any of this" were uttered by Jed. At midnight we sat, a solid twelve hours of road time behind us, now faced with half a foot of snow growing by the second and many mountain passes ahead of us. We beverage up, threw the truck into 4-wheel drive, and plowed ahead into the night. We may have been rolling at a snails pace but it was better than not rolling at all.  After almost four treacherous hours we hit semi dry pavement just outside the town of Jasper, BC. A much needed rest was attempted but the pull of steel was too much. After an hour of trying to get comfortable, the truck was started and we continued on. Ten hours down the road we pulled into the magical spot that was to become the first of the two camps that held us during our time in B.C.

Arriving in Houston BC we chose the Morice River and Camp By-Mac as our first stop for learning British Colombia water. We preformed a quick survey of town for licenses, beer, fuel, and all other fishing trip necessities. Armed for bear (literally) and fully self sufficient we were ready to begin the learning of a new river. With a lack of fishing pressure due to being late in the season we sought out all leads from both reliable and shady sources alike: Mention to anyone that you are a steelhead fisherman and the advice seems to start coming from all directions. We struck early when Jed hit a nice chrome hen, taking a classic hairwing pattern on the swing and giving us our first taste of sea run gold. Only takes one little tug to make everyone fish with confidence, combing the runs and deep pools looking for the next silver bullet to go airborne.

The Morice gave up some steel but proved to be hard-cracking nut : Mile after mile of awesome steel green water all begging for a swung fly and little clue as to where the fish actually were. Having struck only a few fish by day three and wondering where the rest of the fishermen were we struck out for a reconnaissance day further west, to the river whose legends brought us to this country in the first place : Kispiox Country. Tucked into a mountainous arm of the Skeena system the Kispiox is a formidable sight, a beast of a river even during winter time low flow. After a half day of swinging new water and no tugs Jed finally struck paydirt and opened up our account on the second river of the trip with one of the fish that we were really looking for in Canada.

OK then Canada, now we are talking. Thats all she wrote for Camp By-Mac : Pulling stakes and moving camp took up our next day, moving down the system with giant buck steelhead now firmly in our sights. Funny how one fish can change mood and course of a trip overnight and that one whopper buck certainly did. We doubled our efforts towards learning a new river, swinging flies from sun up til sundown through some of the famous runs we had all read about. A new favorite fly and muttered incantations reinforce each other as step follows step down a juicy run. The joy and madness of steelhead fishing is the damm shock and luck of actually running into one of these giant, migrating, non-eating animals face to face and weight on the line. "Like finding a damm unicorn". Damm straight, but theres Yetis in them hills too I hear.

Floats averaged ten river miles, swinging through the likely water day after day. Evening at camp revolved around hearty home cooked meals and tying flies late into the night. Good whiskey is fuel for good flies, this is a fact I have learned from rigorous winter-long study : The Tillamore dew went first followed by the cherry-infused Quicksilver. The Holston rumbled on into the night like a Korean two-stroke at dawn. The pile of flies for the upcoming day grew in size and variety, new and sometimes desperate combinations of flash and feather to try and shake the next giant from his rocky bucket. Confidence. Confidence. Mantras grow rampant in these situations, taking on all shapes and cadences as the days go on: We found the main variables to be the coldness of the day, time since the last steelhead was hooked, and total combined beer consumption of the group. A few beers in the morning makes for rip-roaring chats echoing down the dawn river. Somedays in the absence of fish they can be a lifesaver. "Desperate" is not the right word, but it can become desolate out there real quickly. The eternal fisherman's optimism feeds off brief signs from the fish below and man on the days when they don't play. . . .   Give me a sign fish, give me a sign!!

Time passes quickly in steelhead camp, the ease of daily routine and the constant search for elusive quarry combine to create an ethereal atmosphere. With food pre-prepared, phones long dead and calendars far away there is little to interfere with the swinging. The low light angle of early November helps the vibe along as days blend seamlessly into one another. Day three on this river or is it only two? How many meals of mexican are left to go? Only the supply of beer in coolers and propane for heat bring us back around to the distant, foggy reality of non-camp living.

And so a steelhead camp goes. It went resoundingly well for us this time around and it feels like the budding of a new-found home water. Something about this place, the distance and seeming impenetrability of the BC wilderness makes every moment and every bite that much more astounding. When the guiding season is over and the sun lowers in the horizon our bags will be packed again for the north country : BC Steelhead camp is softly calling.