tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64402861550296370132024-03-13T19:06:01.837-06:00The Year On The Fly 2010JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-22578142663818232452010-03-21T18:58:00.007-06:002010-03-21T20:38:24.158-06:002010 Catch Up<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7cH4by1Qy0poiklE3zu6Qvb2JwDCc0-Qq7Srl0Lb8ArrecEz26XRg2Ao-QlVmsoZqmzjvt3YreQW3F0evs_Y4hCDOAdF_PabXIXNnf7YhhyphenhyphenXPzhnSVo43EQx0cJUppsqKS-ul4iNtQ/s1600-h/IMG_0111.JPG"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQqgRACUFnE3eneWv0vFPBw196wjfYkCTdBnWVNBsxhJdHNykWfUXOF4BpybRaDqaOoqUoCbjyT6Ew0V1xDlPwA1TefuCBzsnF8qUTgn28lCVjAkFp9urGDD_UmzQxCFlCzWNIY-h4nQ/s1600-h/IMG_0108.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQqgRACUFnE3eneWv0vFPBw196wjfYkCTdBnWVNBsxhJdHNykWfUXOF4BpybRaDqaOoqUoCbjyT6Ew0V1xDlPwA1TefuCBzsnF8qUTgn28lCVjAkFp9urGDD_UmzQxCFlCzWNIY-h4nQ/s400/IMG_0108.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451262547301735410" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div>I hate to admit it but I have been too busy to blog! Between work and coaching basketball and fishing on the weekends I have been swamped. So I am going to keep this simple, just lots of pics and captions to briefly chronicle the 2010 year so far. It is mid March and its starting to heat up. It looks to be a good year.<br /><br /><br /><br />As usual I have been on the East Gallatin at least once a week.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0NL8OKEo_L3WrqfYpqRvP37wy4aT_gbEwMT8nXOPgCDwrKvJtyywS3g7587OW7eEsAE_jT4IU8dJUgI-ujkGi_QmQrC96T8UkkB7ZGxTJJdcBEG9tvUSDy88PD7kXDuMww1immk59Q/s1600-h/PC240344.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0NL8OKEo_L3WrqfYpqRvP37wy4aT_gbEwMT8nXOPgCDwrKvJtyywS3g7587OW7eEsAE_jT4IU8dJUgI-ujkGi_QmQrC96T8UkkB7ZGxTJJdcBEG9tvUSDy88PD7kXDuMww1immk59Q/s400/PC240344.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451266259086603538" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlwzh8AQ46ucAQND-6EwqkYufAEV7LDtHPrXly6iHy9Q0vFxoOYZG3il4iBehxtiOIsXckQgewesAV89pEURLj5OeYDzLSPerXMxOse4Yek0zFymH_kpNBYBz3tNNV1jS20qXZwni3Q/s1600-h/IMG00005-20100307-1542.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlwzh8AQ46ucAQND-6EwqkYufAEV7LDtHPrXly6iHy9Q0vFxoOYZG3il4iBehxtiOIsXckQgewesAV89pEURLj5OeYDzLSPerXMxOse4Yek0zFymH_kpNBYBz3tNNV1jS20qXZwni3Q/s400/IMG00005-20100307-1542.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451280498467193490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I've had some good days on the Yellowstone, including a 7 hour float with good friend Zach Jerla.<br /><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGeM_rB3-zOcwCaZcG8yYzHQzRH3APbVvO0h2Ysd6NRG8wXq-ZCKM10j_jXHhRicdTR496wxWAmHp1XxjQQq4rdhkzp1AxGID2pQdkB5XUgw-hRpmS34PyiL-n6w4cPy7pA8NR6QK2w/s1600-h/IMG_0106.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGeM_rB3-zOcwCaZcG8yYzHQzRH3APbVvO0h2Ysd6NRG8wXq-ZCKM10j_jXHhRicdTR496wxWAmHp1XxjQQq4rdhkzp1AxGID2pQdkB5XUgw-hRpmS34PyiL-n6w4cPy7pA8NR6QK2w/s400/IMG_0106.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451262527325104978" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7cH4by1Qy0poiklE3zu6Qvb2JwDCc0-Qq7Srl0Lb8ArrecEz26XRg2Ao-QlVmsoZqmzjvt3YreQW3F0evs_Y4hCDOAdF_PabXIXNnf7YhhyphenhyphenXPzhnSVo43EQx0cJUppsqKS-ul4iNtQ/s400/IMG_0111.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451262556400614802" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oH0795Z3lEosXlNWeq3CyuVQ1nJ-sUgvOaMJIIEfAmRA7pprahHTxtKBGsjeJ4w7Fhc-ksXpXlUUL4BqHqYCwXs3qwXuZY822VzHYPCbmJF6E8XDZddy8wu_pBzOCuiZ1er9FVh3rQ/s1600-h/IMG_0105.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oH0795Z3lEosXlNWeq3CyuVQ1nJ-sUgvOaMJIIEfAmRA7pprahHTxtKBGsjeJ4w7Fhc-ksXpXlUUL4BqHqYCwXs3qwXuZY822VzHYPCbmJF6E8XDZddy8wu_pBzOCuiZ1er9FVh3rQ/s400/IMG_0105.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451262533483139378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR9rYQd4FssceIUKB-Rp1WouMTaX26vUblLoSFKK6jhTBvj8PN8a7SqwcDq2mLaa0eT7ztsl75n022nq1-YC0EeskRaRNqO13AAXiwikGl8eNoiQIfqaFVy8oJfE1evTzEUBEQP1E7dA/s1600-h/IMG_0112.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR9rYQd4FssceIUKB-Rp1WouMTaX26vUblLoSFKK6jhTBvj8PN8a7SqwcDq2mLaa0eT7ztsl75n022nq1-YC0EeskRaRNqO13AAXiwikGl8eNoiQIfqaFVy8oJfE1evTzEUBEQP1E7dA/s400/IMG_0112.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451262569541400946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFpo6H15wt53y4xhmizwX9Q3auZwsD9LjLjsuTqXFqVizVN0vwwM3Yl-zyn_TU17ztmWxmyKDYtv-kWIJJtzXR7YJteu9uE4VdIcC-gkZM2ufl4onZ_2xqBmrFLbMWT1VmhCt1Zym6Q/s1600-h/PC140324.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFpo6H15wt53y4xhmizwX9Q3auZwsD9LjLjsuTqXFqVizVN0vwwM3Yl-zyn_TU17ztmWxmyKDYtv-kWIJJtzXR7YJteu9uE4VdIcC-gkZM2ufl4onZ_2xqBmrFLbMWT1VmhCt1Zym6Q/s400/PC140324.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451266249277583250" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div>Just recently my buddy Alex and I headed into Yankee Jim Canyon in search of big fish on big flies but instead found a enormous school of cutthroats and rainbows in a midge eating feeding frenzy.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2FRFPnYUOA8SSGWW2cUii7idqCTveBx-E6cGjPhgD0huK8XFjSBd3RPYiJeaSDtibUMO-FZ67PADda2h4dOlMMkMqRSQJWru9k1Sxa6jFbSP-j4U8Lj5qy_qF6tyeX6LaPHLGL8YlQ/s1600-h/PC280346.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2FRFPnYUOA8SSGWW2cUii7idqCTveBx-E6cGjPhgD0huK8XFjSBd3RPYiJeaSDtibUMO-FZ67PADda2h4dOlMMkMqRSQJWru9k1Sxa6jFbSP-j4U8Lj5qy_qF6tyeX6LaPHLGL8YlQ/s400/PC280346.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451275934908479314" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIjnj1v49Xhzz0Pe6Ic7BnrX86PcOyOjXdGDxw2keEb7hVPtYtAORqD7IVsbbXIWjnNAcNsGKXAQy12E04J7N_R6zTwMPkSONU7P5NSOSgLxZfxobUcdsgHgZVI6SMusNHLGqzMlp32Q/s1600-h/PC280351.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIjnj1v49Xhzz0Pe6Ic7BnrX86PcOyOjXdGDxw2keEb7hVPtYtAORqD7IVsbbXIWjnNAcNsGKXAQy12E04J7N_R6zTwMPkSONU7P5NSOSgLxZfxobUcdsgHgZVI6SMusNHLGqzMlp32Q/s400/PC280351.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451275925445763378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH0RuNPFhh19Qvimld_lEBg3_CIGVChkcUdaMnztDA9_2zXssKccdCE4pnrmfTflAX8srlPfMxKIBqwBEeLF-fVha1aqM9c8zPn6CUHZbF-J9aeUFhBMRzbi45TzWM9B1fzi7bvf1pIw/s1600-h/PC280354.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH0RuNPFhh19Qvimld_lEBg3_CIGVChkcUdaMnztDA9_2zXssKccdCE4pnrmfTflAX8srlPfMxKIBqwBEeLF-fVha1aqM9c8zPn6CUHZbF-J9aeUFhBMRzbi45TzWM9B1fzi7bvf1pIw/s400/PC280354.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451275915762176114" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4D1qA3TzwTV0soagEvKhF6A0HSnfqf8puaVk885dFyoJXdMDJxwdmh-XeNw3pOlLx7D0etiOg9l5-V4M_WfON4XcIhHGUfY7Z4vbXK0cTVJGbJT3KaA5UD1gpcsqmua_V21ve304yg/s1600-h/PC280352.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4D1qA3TzwTV0soagEvKhF6A0HSnfqf8puaVk885dFyoJXdMDJxwdmh-XeNw3pOlLx7D0etiOg9l5-V4M_WfON4XcIhHGUfY7Z4vbXK0cTVJGbJT3KaA5UD1gpcsqmua_V21ve304yg/s400/PC280352.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451275907256814130" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8Y0SyiW1TZJWJWkKHGRKNLlk1JSPfqfbxx9P8Xf1brhbFPxg2S-tZpd3VqeXJ-l5ZgW8MLfTZfxl-ScLD4M-ZSIoCuxOl2augCnvCXHSq1X8KN_YGfpdVqvBDReo2drFVAR3dwxrdg/s1600-h/PC280361.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8Y0SyiW1TZJWJWkKHGRKNLlk1JSPfqfbxx9P8Xf1brhbFPxg2S-tZpd3VqeXJ-l5ZgW8MLfTZfxl-ScLD4M-ZSIoCuxOl2augCnvCXHSq1X8KN_YGfpdVqvBDReo2drFVAR3dwxrdg/s400/PC280361.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451280512561868066" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-89460525071276043322009-11-28T22:51:00.000-07:002009-11-29T02:03:11.929-07:00Tying Flies (Crayfish)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZascni38v1JTaotyjesL4HB4Qqwlh4Al31cRiSrbipew86e0sk8RYvpLm6HIZ0pnCmq-7PEsDXMPwULNpF4VC8bG5hlb7gQsKUym-mreZOb5ezw6n_NeibHuzMykfSMPzBue2jKDBuA/s1600/P9080308.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZascni38v1JTaotyjesL4HB4Qqwlh4Al31cRiSrbipew86e0sk8RYvpLm6HIZ0pnCmq-7PEsDXMPwULNpF4VC8bG5hlb7gQsKUym-mreZOb5ezw6n_NeibHuzMykfSMPzBue2jKDBuA/s400/P9080308.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409422681400919058" border="0" /></a><br />It is winter. I keep hoping that it was a bluff, but I am pretty sure its here to stay. I did a 6 hour cold weather day on the East Gallatin the other day. It was nice to get out and pursue my quarry, but freezing your ass off all day for 2 average sized fish isn't doing it for me like it did last year. Don't get me wrong, I'll still do it, but I don't obsess about getting on the water at all costs like I did last winter. I am a bit more selective about when and were I go.<br /><br />The classic flyfisherman off season activity is obviously fly tying. I am essentially a rookie, but over the past 9 months have put together some of the basics. I am mostly a big fly guy at this point. I tie a lot of streamers and larger nymphs. I copy patterns that I really like but my favorite thing is to take styles and techniques that I have learned and to create my own patterns.<br /><br />Recently I have been brainstorming an easy yet realistic crayfish pattern. There are some pretty real looking patterns out there but many look very difficult to tie. I have heard that many people do well on just a plain brown wolly bugger fished as a crayfish. So I came up with a cray fish pattern that is basically a wooly bugger with a few modifications. Crayfish swim tail first so if you are going to strip them they need to be tied head towards the hook end, tail toward the hook eye.<br /><br />So here is a step by step for my original crayfish pattern. Now, I am not claiming that this has never been tied before, but I came up with this on my own without knowingly copying anything else, so it is my original design.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Materials</span><br /><br />Hook: Mustad 9672 Size 4 Streamer Hook<br />Thread: Big Fly (Black)<br />Body: Chenille (Dark, Brown Rust)<br />Eyes: Large Lead Eyes (1/20 oz)<br />Tail: Marabou (Burnt Orange)<br />Hackle: Strung Saddle (Natural Furnace)<br />Legs: Sili Legs (Fire Tip, Pumpkin Orange)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfj4ziwGnHkpixIwfaUSBlmcD5kXXgc8jJlg0ueL9Y_605FjqV89MMvUxz4FLAJnCjrLA9l0TkAEr9zkw50SEv6khIa42VLApvf-MELKoZxJBh-BMLJ8dUh6Lm8TUhrg6uBZcp6sUXiw/s1600/P9070291.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfj4ziwGnHkpixIwfaUSBlmcD5kXXgc8jJlg0ueL9Y_605FjqV89MMvUxz4FLAJnCjrLA9l0TkAEr9zkw50SEv6khIa42VLApvf-MELKoZxJBh-BMLJ8dUh6Lm8TUhrg6uBZcp6sUXiw/s400/P9070291.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409435511955604706" border="0" /></a>Place the hook in the vice and start thread. Make a good thread base and work thread to the bend of the hook.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_A0hn08epwwKo7V3QA4rik-786Ww0Bfgc-GMjTj_ZFAbMnP7tva7Vtx54aGoH2LJeLaVjKd-KNlBPqxufEQNeHgXxHa7ZaIP7uPd0gx4LsVNSHiRTeS-U1GfjYengeWKG8kWBAMYyqA/s1600/P9070292.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_A0hn08epwwKo7V3QA4rik-786Ww0Bfgc-GMjTj_ZFAbMnP7tva7Vtx54aGoH2LJeLaVjKd-KNlBPqxufEQNeHgXxHa7ZaIP7uPd0gx4LsVNSHiRTeS-U1GfjYengeWKG8kWBAMYyqA/s400/P9070292.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409435510229759874" border="0" /></a>Tie in marabou. Length should be about the same as hook length.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdQ1SKtikBigHr-06KrWnzdKd1oeMWouSTs8E7tY9HYAJCutouibYNRR6CiiLPlYBaZO_nyQyuzbYRTOYz6JomQxttkYTS-FdRUJTMzIulqJD5m11vtXm-T_bQKtrmzzSdNXDkJLtPOA/s1600/P9080304.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdQ1SKtikBigHr-06KrWnzdKd1oeMWouSTs8E7tY9HYAJCutouibYNRR6CiiLPlYBaZO_nyQyuzbYRTOYz6JomQxttkYTS-FdRUJTMzIulqJD5m11vtXm-T_bQKtrmzzSdNXDkJLtPOA/s400/P9080304.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409422696600801682" border="0" /></a>Separate the fibers with a few thread wraps to create the appearance of separate claws.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-vG6QV1iVEQsE2HdKoRY4Jad1Pa3KE4iAnpWRmKDHNt2aFJyHUy8RLzoocof0N9qscplwca2R6pRl8MUvJ-gvYKX4g8s_3juOLp4ZGPTKElNIm2KJFtN_WWeuwAQKNHGsKZKALDGEA/s1600/P9070293.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-vG6QV1iVEQsE2HdKoRY4Jad1Pa3KE4iAnpWRmKDHNt2aFJyHUy8RLzoocof0N9qscplwca2R6pRl8MUvJ-gvYKX4g8s_3juOLp4ZGPTKElNIm2KJFtN_WWeuwAQKNHGsKZKALDGEA/s400/P9070293.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409435499318810674" border="0" /></a>Tie in dumbell eyes on the top-side of the hook. (This should make the fly swim hook up) Tie eyes in about 1/3 the way from the hook bend to the hook eye. Tie in with tight figure 8 wraps. Fix in place with small drop of glue.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgd-zviLpHnJg0ZO0dN1UhTCH9etkBZW4QvHkzUiAAv-EWSoSsobKu-yCoa4PiAXzBWYTl2hkitxBrSsPFgjThJr9f7ZJ5EPWL0rFuQGwps6TmiODahBzt773v-_PZj3DOryQHJn_IRg/s1600/P9070294.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgd-zviLpHnJg0ZO0dN1UhTCH9etkBZW4QvHkzUiAAv-EWSoSsobKu-yCoa4PiAXzBWYTl2hkitxBrSsPFgjThJr9f7ZJ5EPWL0rFuQGwps6TmiODahBzt773v-_PZj3DOryQHJn_IRg/s400/P9070294.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409435493457682786" border="0" /></a>Move thread foward and tie in rubber legs.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj351Uy5djBS1pRdnMUHWEdNutOEUxSQ5fMMXzGbVeTykHyq7MrRd3HCL88AdvFFcziO1gUljQemMrUumhhQOaxiemLETY5ZEw6lFWKCVlCNL_7D4S78nQvJzCdaR5ExCGlLPp9lqDH2Q/s1600/P9070295.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj351Uy5djBS1pRdnMUHWEdNutOEUxSQ5fMMXzGbVeTykHyq7MrRd3HCL88AdvFFcziO1gUljQemMrUumhhQOaxiemLETY5ZEw6lFWKCVlCNL_7D4S78nQvJzCdaR5ExCGlLPp9lqDH2Q/s400/P9070295.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409435487355149842" border="0" /></a>Move thread back to the bend of the hook and tie in chenille and strung saddle hackle. Then move the thread back to the front of the hook. Be sure not to bind down the rubber legs.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlMH8Y00arUgB4XDo8myScIixaNrcJCZQ2jDusRLCmhpiqwQ8bRd42VoiUhD8E5UYSNoNCy8ra8Gr2hQP_cbpvHRrQ5UwXv_1mTj4n9Tra9t9kwfxOBItgenkxeA4yMXTgZRGL3lNMA/s1600/P9070296.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlMH8Y00arUgB4XDo8myScIixaNrcJCZQ2jDusRLCmhpiqwQ8bRd42VoiUhD8E5UYSNoNCy8ra8Gr2hQP_cbpvHRrQ5UwXv_1mTj4n9Tra9t9kwfxOBItgenkxeA4yMXTgZRGL3lNMA/s400/P9070296.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409426314990047602" border="0" /></a>Wrap the chenille foward over the lead eyes and carefully around the rubber legs. Tie off.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMcJM_tv6IJFAarWoFNr1c8I-_hY8qkZFdkfMOWEEIafVzXpurCaooBeudQhK5vRILIvpWhVaepZtm44OxOi9JjMVSt-sT1TaWKI9rM-1VhCPQ_CblW6WB0cDiGpjtamPUwrQW83_Hg/s1600/P9080300.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMcJM_tv6IJFAarWoFNr1c8I-_hY8qkZFdkfMOWEEIafVzXpurCaooBeudQhK5vRILIvpWhVaepZtm44OxOi9JjMVSt-sT1TaWKI9rM-1VhCPQ_CblW6WB0cDiGpjtamPUwrQW83_Hg/s400/P9080300.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409426307105592610" border="0" /></a>Wrap hackle foward and tie off. Extend extra feather foward past eye of the hook.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgClTKGlRDZpe6Z_WkZRQCQTsjCV4tTDXAWGEZeJXgPt98Zuz5VlbRxJiyTOOkCzqrSkvnBfEm6m7eXuG-fAj9bPOsPgBh0ScB2IHGKsZHjn2bQ0XuEdG3mJVO8kqmki7Oz7Td2-Cgrcg/s1600/P9080301.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgClTKGlRDZpe6Z_WkZRQCQTsjCV4tTDXAWGEZeJXgPt98Zuz5VlbRxJiyTOOkCzqrSkvnBfEm6m7eXuG-fAj9bPOsPgBh0ScB2IHGKsZHjn2bQ0XuEdG3mJVO8kqmki7Oz7Td2-Cgrcg/s400/P9080301.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409426299068913442" border="0" /></a>Color Lead Eyes black with a Sharpie<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXpEZxFmkJQMZk43m9_Wxegdiq_3OgnoSxg_exkr2tbF6gqPjDj3-elqQ1kJ9If8nzTJ-20pUYAAv0yut-mt7F9WbUIB_UErMv_ljZ3T6rAd0uIAwbEtpCquMgsJiQ7tTaSbL6aBsRQ/s1600/P9080305.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXpEZxFmkJQMZk43m9_Wxegdiq_3OgnoSxg_exkr2tbF6gqPjDj3-elqQ1kJ9If8nzTJ-20pUYAAv0yut-mt7F9WbUIB_UErMv_ljZ3T6rAd0uIAwbEtpCquMgsJiQ7tTaSbL6aBsRQ/s400/P9080305.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409422690313247794" border="0" /></a>Finish the head. Apply glue or head cement and...there's your crayfish!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">This fly should fish hook up. This will allow for deep presentations into weedbeds and other trout cover and should result in fewer snag ups. I hope this will fish well deadrifted or slowly stripped across the bottom. I am thinking big browns, Lower Madison...I'll keep you posted!<br /></div></div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-20760918095020041822009-11-11T11:31:00.000-07:002009-11-11T12:52:22.859-07:00Scenery<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzBoVKyC-iDE3Htw43wvU3MMsOHp4bzx7PUG3UHZCo0uDHkisJboIg23aKrs4mnJaHYaSQNwzfEt2co8BfdUxorjdi3rPoCoKEPIOJCS0_72WkP33-xsnJG5wmZPYzSORBzUnIcYn2Pw/s1600-h/P8110219.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzBoVKyC-iDE3Htw43wvU3MMsOHp4bzx7PUG3UHZCo0uDHkisJboIg23aKrs4mnJaHYaSQNwzfEt2co8BfdUxorjdi3rPoCoKEPIOJCS0_72WkP33-xsnJG5wmZPYzSORBzUnIcYn2Pw/s400/P8110219.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402931552640071570" /></a><br />I have been out here and there the past few weeks. No real fish stories to tell but I have taken in some awesome scenery. I love the fall and the spring seasons. There may be nothing better than being on a river in the fall, the leaves ablaze with colors, your breath visible in the morning air, the spray of your line as you double haul to the far bank. Big fish or small fish, lots of fish or no fish, this is what makes fly fishing so spectacular.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjtR2LXSDBcxGXI-y1_3FbeAlYnfCapfv0V8d0KVttp0u9fUtoyzdnefEH3d4m6KpzmRuH1pcXOK7JWCWy5QXtlW2nIRc0ZW7Hk77SFl1MXYsYIw7G1wVv3e78cf1pMlM5NnkbZb-dw/s1600-h/P8110223.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjtR2LXSDBcxGXI-y1_3FbeAlYnfCapfv0V8d0KVttp0u9fUtoyzdnefEH3d4m6KpzmRuH1pcXOK7JWCWy5QXtlW2nIRc0ZW7Hk77SFl1MXYsYIw7G1wVv3e78cf1pMlM5NnkbZb-dw/s400/P8110223.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402934774489299858" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Late October, East Gallatin River</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNYl-9ChhyphenhyphenYo93GZM5TYnvqDXGxDtvJrfw_hGuhZZ5j7MF98XJpkScl0v3uOtqTzjP5izsMAUPWyKb6zQBaxmGfRHx5I4RXf5oEGo8vUlCoM0dtmntd8rNZQDCwfAoBrxzuXpinPVuw/s1600-h/P8110230.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNYl-9ChhyphenhyphenYo93GZM5TYnvqDXGxDtvJrfw_hGuhZZ5j7MF98XJpkScl0v3uOtqTzjP5izsMAUPWyKb6zQBaxmGfRHx5I4RXf5oEGo8vUlCoM0dtmntd8rNZQDCwfAoBrxzuXpinPVuw/s400/P8110230.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402934790057925250" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Whitetails beneath the Bridgers</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-6kSaaL1Y05xbtLHe9VbUh1CxegLwgeAhOndpX-goiF-8bovZCEa4xPIj3fsAK0sZ6H2CfeUO_NaeMLcPv3Y5JoEpiAS-0E8rVbcoaM1pNfDS1z84_iJgVh47Fs7m7KD_AIwMTBzbQ/s1600-h/P8110227.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-6kSaaL1Y05xbtLHe9VbUh1CxegLwgeAhOndpX-goiF-8bovZCEa4xPIj3fsAK0sZ6H2CfeUO_NaeMLcPv3Y5JoEpiAS-0E8rVbcoaM1pNfDS1z84_iJgVh47Fs7m7KD_AIwMTBzbQ/s400/P8110227.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402934796652274754" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Sunset north of Bozeman</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4i4GhZsu1ffi65-BtryBQRDOBGLKdPvyL-CKP0CuMvQFVM9tNc71AmsP8cFHu-A17H7yn3n-4VZXyvaUhc7KvWXH2bY7ujbIQ2mUngxD52xeeX9Mz5khbm7xKKJ7RnGls3WoSS9BY_A/s1600-h/P8170234.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4i4GhZsu1ffi65-BtryBQRDOBGLKdPvyL-CKP0CuMvQFVM9tNc71AmsP8cFHu-A17H7yn3n-4VZXyvaUhc7KvWXH2bY7ujbIQ2mUngxD52xeeX9Mz5khbm7xKKJ7RnGls3WoSS9BY_A/s400/P8170234.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402934806514990514" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Shields River sunrise</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsl-_zwl2C0i-8ahhN7PyUPk3GeEQBKc5Riojey4yWJEBmnzxmCZQHehLLpyr_LeJBCxtssdfOTw65odza_gZlSfSY0wxyCxoMg7yfVmmZqqdy3PtvsIvQ0smUeiwWcPHFxznrhcDO8Q/s1600-h/P8170238.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsl-_zwl2C0i-8ahhN7PyUPk3GeEQBKc5Riojey4yWJEBmnzxmCZQHehLLpyr_LeJBCxtssdfOTw65odza_gZlSfSY0wxyCxoMg7yfVmmZqqdy3PtvsIvQ0smUeiwWcPHFxznrhcDO8Q/s400/P8170238.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402934814851673634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Crazy Mountains from the Shields</span></div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-11314193528296374812009-10-16T18:26:00.000-06:002009-10-21T10:47:39.787-06:00Redemtion Canyon<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6H9Eu4-OJnmg7KvkE3jSu9Nj6e1gdQRJcAwYvTrfL1r21VLsO8Okd0MI-v9YDqYvYPC4eCzaDV-ECMpqB4BIitPRLOArwczpIppbvuexTmjmmWE1KgqCnH80SvOj3a0nvFjQNcyti2A/s1600-h/P7130086.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6H9Eu4-OJnmg7KvkE3jSu9Nj6e1gdQRJcAwYvTrfL1r21VLsO8Okd0MI-v9YDqYvYPC4eCzaDV-ECMpqB4BIitPRLOArwczpIppbvuexTmjmmWE1KgqCnH80SvOj3a0nvFjQNcyti2A/s400/P7130086.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394914403421048466" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><br />There is a place that has fascinated me and teased my imagination since childhood. As a young boy I stored every rumor and story I ever heard about the stunning canyon only 3 miles downriver from my house. This canyon has always filled me with wonder, obsession and even fear.<div><br /></div><div>The legendary Yellowstone River rumbles out of Yellowstone National Park and rages through the town section of Gardiner. About 15 miles north the river in its entirety is squeezed to a fraction of its width and grows exponentially in depth. As one stands at the mouth of this epic canyon, the river seems angry and intimidating as it roars back at you, daring you to enter.</div><div><br /></div><div>It falls over devastating boulder fields and swirls into submerged caves and in one particular section squeezes into a narrow crevice where the entire river is constricted to a mere 40 feet while its waters swirl almost dead still! It is this piece of water, locally known as the "box car hole" which harasses my imagination and even haunts my dreams.</div><div><br /></div><div>No true data exists on this water. I have searched high and low for any documentation on its true depth, but none exist. Some Gardiner locals claim it to be over 100 ft. Others speak of divers reaching depths of over 60 ft only to have to resurface due to the unstoppable hydraulics and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">upcurrents</span> accompanied by opposing undertows which sucked them into caves in the canyon wall deep beneath the surface. </div><div><br /></div><div>The divers were searching for the remains of drowned boaters. The canyon seems to take at least one life a year. This is usually the result of poor judgment and lack of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">respect</span> for it power. You won't find any locals out in the canyons waters, they respect the killing power of the forces unseen. It is the tourist who are drawn to the impressive whitewater. These brave (but naive) souls often kayak or pack raft <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">through</span> the canyon. Most make it through safely, but those who do not are often never found, sent to a watery grave deep in the rivers mysterious grasps.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yankee Jim Canyon was named after James George. George came to Montana looking for gold, but instead established a gold mine of different sorts. In 1873 he came into land inside the canyon. He build and maintained a road through the narrow corridor which became the only road to Yellowstone Park. He set up a tollbooth and charged all park visitors to cross his land and gain access to the park. This went on for about 15 years and James George became fondly known as Yankee Jim and was notorious for his personality and knack for telling tall tales. </div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUE-GZ3j_KmwV6b2J8DK3VRvGojLvNMgbu0VuwSgkJBRQ7Y1X2xwGIyuD3OM63uCHBE-6b7_afrfHuaACpONc29TluNLXWVNBZvWn9n1ptKjxM9J7U-RVg_BodTLj4-4F7NAShUqOBQ/s1600-h/4c3fabf4-22d0-5293-a352-7833dd805cb3.image.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUE-GZ3j_KmwV6b2J8DK3VRvGojLvNMgbu0VuwSgkJBRQ7Y1X2xwGIyuD3OM63uCHBE-6b7_afrfHuaACpONc29TluNLXWVNBZvWn9n1ptKjxM9J7U-RVg_BodTLj4-4F7NAShUqOBQ/s400/4c3fabf4-22d0-5293-a352-7833dd805cb3.image.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394916615324432290" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Rupyard</span> Kipling was one of Jim's visitor on his way to Yellowstone in (1890). He <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">flyfished</span> in the canyon which was of course then only filled with native Yellowstone Cutthroat. He writes this about his time there.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 16px;font-size:12px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 16px; font-family:'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“…the fish bit the brown hook as though never a fat trout-fly had fallen on the water….At the fortieth trout I gave up counting, and I had reached the fortieth in less than two hours….They fought like small tigers, and I lost three flies before I could understand their method of escape. Ye gads! That was fishing….”</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>The railroad came and ended Jim's lucrative business. Despite his protests they built the railroad right through his land. Jim turned cold and bitter and legend tells that on more the one occasion he let his shotgun do the talking. He was eventually driven out and as an old man, left his canyon for good.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe Jim had something to do with the derailment of the boxcar in 1903. As the train pushed through the canyon a car derailed and tumbled down the steep canyon walls and came to rest in the depths of what is now known as the box car hole. It is possibly the deepest water of the entire <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Yellowstone</span> River. The box car still rests today, deep within the unknown.</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzhMxvgXiM5-krx1xvf2kMIiE60e822_hm8WUAXuoywfRrU7Hyg1rfGNIh8DFw1NU8DEbGOtY6Pu1AZaV_uJw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The water is really not heavily fished. Very few fishing boats dare the canyon waters and those that do don't mess around in there, making as many quick casts as they can as they fly through the raging whitewater. The canyon waters can be accessed from the highway on its east side. There are no good trails and the bank is steep and dangerous. The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">west side</span> of the river can be reached by crossing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Corwin</span> Spring or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Carbella</span> bridges. A dirt road now runs over the old railroad bed. The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">west side</span> provides some better access but none of it is easy. The local <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">flyfishing</span> community deems the canyon as "not worth the risk" and some even venture to claim that despite its obvious looking holding water that "in their experience" the rumors of very large fish are untrue. Speaking of rumors...</div><div><br /></div><div>Remember the divers searching for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">bodies</span> in the boxcar hole? These same divers claim to have seen trout of unbelievable size deep in the dark waters. So large were these beasts that one diver reported a fear of being in the water with them. Other rumors claim that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">FWP</span> shocked a brown of unimaginable size from the boxcar.</div><div><br /></div><div>The local <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">bait fishermen</span> believe the hype. Some 8-10 lb. browns have been taking by live <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">sculpins</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">nightcrawlers</span> and even whitefish meat. Many of these brutes were taken at night.</div><div><br /></div><div>Needless to say, I have chosen to believe all of these stories and since childhood have been on a quest to catch "The One." Every fall I travel to the canyon and search its waters, but this fall I decided to something that possibly no fly fisherman has done (even Kipling).</div><div><br /></div><div>I set out to fly fish the canyons entire west bank. I began across from the Joe Brown Access (the last chance for boaters to get out to avoid the canyon's waters) and over the course of two days fished the 3.5 miles of bank down to where the rivers exits the canyon walls near <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Carbella</span> Bridge. The fishing was streaky, and long slow spells were rewarded by sudden bursts of action. I had decided to fish only streamers and had constructed a set-up particularly for the deep waters. I fished a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Reddington</span> 8 wt matched with a large arbor reel which was loaded with a fast sinking line. I fished a short leader built of 25 lb. mono followed by 15 lb. fluorocarbon. This setup worked remarkably well and I was able to fish large <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">sculpin</span> patterns deeper than I ever had before.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheSQjMKflH5vXa7sNZ-Hs-3AdCJRSLfWl70INL6KxN8Emm3rEjZRrPtFQ2gL-CUwd6LWdOZOZyGTz1wsI4lVc5WsBfapmi7KRAx9P8veVpJspL8s57tUJAi-M-njhoW3Z6jXhnJTt1Pw/s1600-h/P7140092.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheSQjMKflH5vXa7sNZ-Hs-3AdCJRSLfWl70INL6KxN8Emm3rEjZRrPtFQ2gL-CUwd6LWdOZOZyGTz1wsI4lVc5WsBfapmi7KRAx9P8veVpJspL8s57tUJAi-M-njhoW3Z6jXhnJTt1Pw/s400/P7140092.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394914932000721938" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div>As the light was waning on the 1st day I encountered a sheer cliff that marked the entrance of the box car hole. I was forced to climb up out of the canyon and back down a ridiculously steep slope. There are no fisherman trails into the heart of the box car and to be honest I wondered if I could even get down there in 10 years!</div><div><br /></div><div>The box car is scary. It is so intense. You are standing literally feet away from a virtually bottomless pit. The waters churn in an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">eery</span> silence and you are almost intimidated to fish it. I tied on a self tied <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">sculpin</span> pattern. I began experimenting with different casts, trying to get the fly as deep as possible. It was amazing how the streamer would one minute be forced to the surface by powerful <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">upcurrents</span> and then suddenly sucked into the darkness by opposing undertows. As the fly would sink out of site, the imagination starts to work overtime. If only I could see what that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">sculpin</span> fly sees. </div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfY8M6GKXeBI1jabsOjKDi3tcqKGDmtClBQwusQqPSd-EzlVmlJL9s-dukyLIe0zxeb8GwYjUd7xot20vXDONaJSELFkzOh-qzbLZ6hyphenhyphenxTSLiTC_OhwwKtKzIbnEFg5-49asv4e3GG9Q/s1600-h/P7140094.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfY8M6GKXeBI1jabsOjKDi3tcqKGDmtClBQwusQqPSd-EzlVmlJL9s-dukyLIe0zxeb8GwYjUd7xot20vXDONaJSELFkzOh-qzbLZ6hyphenhyphenxTSLiTC_OhwwKtKzIbnEFg5-49asv4e3GG9Q/s400/P7140094.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394917314334879010" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div>On one particularly good swing, (I estimated my fly was over 20 ft down) My boyhood suspicious were all but conformed. Deep beneath the surface my rod went heavy and I set into something thick. There was no thrashing or rod throbbing, just a dead weight. I had to wait a second to confirm it was even a fish. Then I felt the steady pull of a living creature at the end of the line. I began to to wench the large arbor reel and to my shock the monster brown came to the surface with very little fight. I got my net and for an instant thought I had her. I got a good long look at the beauty. She was huge and thick, buttery yellow with vibrant red spots. I started toward the water and began to reach out with my net when suddenly the brute realized what was going on and made a huge run. It is strange when fish take 20 feet of line straight down! She didn't head down river, she just dove straight down. Then came the vicious head shakes. One, two three and....the line went limp. I did my tantrum thing, cursed the gods and sat down for a bit. I was so close to landing a giant box car brown. It would have been by far the largest trout of my life. I have to say she was over 25 inches and at least 6-7 lbs.</div><div><br /></div><div>The next day I continued my quest to fish the entire length of the canyon. I landed many modest cuts and a few respectable browns. I again lost a few fish that got me thinking. I finished my mission late Sunday evening. I caught a lot of fish but left feeling I had been bested.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhBqi5JAJT1GucUmG1IFA_OOYvRN7jbeGpDGaiUHn7Gj06CELghwR6cSnD2s0cIUae0URUrkC5AcgXYI03qTLzZK4EqoT6bH5r-VlyLatTRU5LQ_FA38lCWCbFAA2JmEUrF0LWZpC-Q/s1600-h/P7130078.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhBqi5JAJT1GucUmG1IFA_OOYvRN7jbeGpDGaiUHn7Gj06CELghwR6cSnD2s0cIUae0URUrkC5AcgXYI03qTLzZK4EqoT6bH5r-VlyLatTRU5LQ_FA38lCWCbFAA2JmEUrF0LWZpC-Q/s400/P7130078.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394914944294629634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div>I returned to the canyon the following Sunday. This time a brought a buddy. Alex is also from Gardiner and shares a common interest in fly fishing the the Canyon of Yankee Jim.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was cold as hell! 15 degrees with a stiff north wind. The ground was covered in a slippery skiff of snow and quite frankly we froze our asses off. We literally slid down into the box car hole. The fishing was pure misery. Frozen hands, feet and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">flyline</span>. We had to clear guides every 5 casts. We pushed through and swung streamers <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">through</span> the depths for over an hour with only a 14 inch cutthroat between us. We decided to move to the tail end of the hole but to do so required us to climb up the steep wall and then back down on the other side of a cliff. How we got out of there I don't know. Thanks to some sage brush to grab a hold of, we made it out and then headed down to the tail end of the box car.</div><div><br /></div><div>The tail out section is a little easier to get to and there is a faint path. I often find empty cartons of worms and beer cans, so the bait guys have definitely been down there. The water broadens a bit but is still very deep and the currents just as powerful.</div><div><br /></div><div>I positioned myself on a flat boulder and made my first cast into the freezing air. I nice brown attacked my sex dungeon and then shook free. I was talking to Alex about it and was preparing to make another cast. I lazily threw 15 feet of line down stream in preparation for a longer cast when something crushed my streamer near a rock by the bank. Now I am going to try not to exaggerate but whatever was on the end of my line was like nothing I have ever experienced. </div><div><br /></div><div>My 8 wt was bent double and I had to use both hands to keep my rod up. The mysterious beast struggled in the depths for a bit and then began a steady run down river. It was not a blazing into your backing run, just a slow and steady departure as if to say "I'm outta here and there is nothing you can do to stop me!" There was nothing I could do. It was the first time a truly felt powerless on my end of the rod. The fish just kept going and Alex and I (half frozen mind you) futilely tried to chase it. Then, like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">deja</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">vu</span> the fish was gone. My line had broke at the knot. Defeated again!</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know what fuels my obsession more, the landing of a trophy fish or the loss of one. Needless to say I made a last minute Thursday decision and called Alex and headed back for another rodeo in the canyon. </div><div><br /></div><div>This time the weather was great but the fishing was not. I landed a 17 inch <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">cuttbow</span> across from Joe Brown, but the fishing was slow to say the least. I needed to be on the road by 3 so we decided to go all or nothing and headed back into the box car. More of the same. No fish interested in our streamers. I had worked down river with no luck and when I returned Alex's crazy ass had somehow traversed a cliff and was fishing from a ledge 10 feet above the river. I was suddenly excited because he was able to fish a huge submerged rock in the center of the river that I had never been able to get to before. I made my way up and over cliffs and then tiptoed the narrow submerged ledge to get out to him. We both stood on this ledge 10 ft above the river. We had zero room to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">backcast</span> so we would take turns. I would duck so he could cast backhand and then he would duck so I could make a bit of a roll cast. The fish were starting to move on our streamers and I said outlaid "What the hell are we going to do if we catch one?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I was standing watching Alex make his retrieve. My olive sex dungeon was dangling 10 feet below me, pulsing in the current when out of the corner of my eye I watched a large fish take my streamer off the surface like a dry fly! I set the hook and knew I had a dandy. Alex readied for action as I played the heavy fish. I would kill for a photo from the highway side of the river. Both of us standing on a ledge 10 feet above the box car hole, rod bent double...it was awesome. </div><div><br /></div><div>The bad new was I had left the net on the other side of the cliff. Alex immediately set out for it and I did have the courtesy to tell him not to die for the fish...he seemed willing to. He climbed down the 10 foot boulder, tiptoed the submerged ledge, scaled the cliff overhang, retrieved the net and returned just in time to net my fish who had been kind enough to swing within his grasp. I climbed down and met him in the water. We high <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">fived</span> and took some photos. What a awesome fish! The female brown measures 20.5 inches and was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">girthy</span>. She had distinct baby blue halos around her red spots that almost gave her the appearance of a brook trout. We then revived her and watched her swim off healthy, back to the mystery below.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwqqnVW8qzlJ-AN73yl4SjTXDPXJvI8NKEJLV_L6uz6KyrNyW-MfkV-PDBMZc-6eClYvfUBqxHrlpKILTEf-w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div>It was almost 3 so I reeled in and called it a day. It is such a great feeling to make your last cast the one that catches such a great fish, much like a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">walkoff</span> home run or a buzzer beating three-pointer. You just can't end it much better than that.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWocQqQrkpxMmaT7f_3P87LnItmtSN9AYm6Oual5FLVlKGNdp7wamnnYY0Kbh8qzrJ5RwnvdvDF_dUJbgk59SXpMHfzQOkElTTiFRbD7Rj46vf4_W9iROe6swtIkzFSnsLiFqRKh47kA/s1600-h/P7250101.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWocQqQrkpxMmaT7f_3P87LnItmtSN9AYm6Oual5FLVlKGNdp7wamnnYY0Kbh8qzrJ5RwnvdvDF_dUJbgk59SXpMHfzQOkElTTiFRbD7Rj46vf4_W9iROe6swtIkzFSnsLiFqRKh47kA/s400/P7250101.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394917054458911154" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a><div>I finally felt a sense of redemption. Although this fish was no where near the fish I had lost before or the ones that haunt the depths untouched, I still felt a sense of perseverance and victory.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am not done exploring this canyon. There is still so much to be found. I still know that a fish larger than can even be imagined lurks in the depths, probably the ghost of Yankee Jim himself, still guarding his canyon, collecting his toll.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-38288950435742682272009-09-28T21:20:00.000-06:002009-09-28T21:28:03.109-06:00What a boy!I can't even put into words how proud I am of my little boy. We fished tonight for a couple hours, and didn't catch much. Despite this, I was in awe of my 7 year old fishing a woolly bugger the whole time, completely independent...what a kid!<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwa2pY01tjNu1T1S5fd4hD6ocWsyPaPsuzfujdQUDMM_QN8QpTlgnVDaKuB34H4CnTJU4F04-3RUSMPZpcyzw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-45409697882631511902009-09-10T21:48:00.000-06:002009-09-21T22:40:32.156-06:00Good Times With Good Times<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe2h6Csos4Mb1IU9UINHscL3EccAYZ9f_UYuALkYF3xA2KfrVOCh1Otll1kMxKW0x1TioPU_YkFPmdJOwfr97V_LaWScQ4dyJKaIFGIjIBaCRwRAq7IxrI3c4v1waCBIo3p9QqAdfVvg/s1600-h/100_2760.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe2h6Csos4Mb1IU9UINHscL3EccAYZ9f_UYuALkYF3xA2KfrVOCh1Otll1kMxKW0x1TioPU_YkFPmdJOwfr97V_LaWScQ4dyJKaIFGIjIBaCRwRAq7IxrI3c4v1waCBIo3p9QqAdfVvg/s400/100_2760.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384143534278835170" border="0" /></a><br />So my cousin and fellow fly fishing obsessive compulsive came down to visit my family and I over Labor Day Weekend. Johnny is great to be around and also somehow manages to bring fun with him wherever he ends up. Therefore he has been dubbed by some as "Johnny Good Times".<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08go8tEhLBkUlAIAY5DOBshgkBSqy6Gjk4a0aOpUXEdhH0QHlfn0ohwxlc9t_n-LeJXg583A4MqVop_qPzJdZefQx7YEAgZ-dygdpAkid1K1Vya1_0LPPZImw6xzp-nG5gX54jsYM0A/s1600-h/100_2737.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08go8tEhLBkUlAIAY5DOBshgkBSqy6Gjk4a0aOpUXEdhH0QHlfn0ohwxlc9t_n-LeJXg583A4MqVop_qPzJdZefQx7YEAgZ-dygdpAkid1K1Vya1_0LPPZImw6xzp-nG5gX54jsYM0A/s400/100_2737.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384143503844418674" border="0" /></a><br />So Johnny called me during the week to suggest coming down to visit and do a little fishing. So I approached my lovely wife about it (she loves when Johnny is around) and I told her we would "probably" do a "little" fishing. Well she knows me to well and what started out as one evening outing turned into a full on binge!<br /><br />Good times arrived in time to watch my youngest kids and the neighbor boy (see last post) catch a few bass and a sucker. Him and I played around with a few top water poppers but didn't get into any bass.<br /><br />The following evening I took him to "lunker alley" in hopes that one of us could match or beat the 21 inch brown I had caught 2 weeks prior. Streamers were once again the ticket and we both landed a few respectable rainbows and I lost a fish that may have been pretty big.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmjZ-XrbgZtJwrmtLy4uqD_FyOwMDyDufLMNW14mVxHEiyKgwWSrdVuSlOZ1p_3Qw1tDYMrXo51o59NaHgGkR1UIg_LDQyRZLdVFSUuYJJCavcc1crUN5_6LbrcJLxiheLx1HAwj1RrQ/s1600-h/100_2740.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmjZ-XrbgZtJwrmtLy4uqD_FyOwMDyDufLMNW14mVxHEiyKgwWSrdVuSlOZ1p_3Qw1tDYMrXo51o59NaHgGkR1UIg_LDQyRZLdVFSUuYJJCavcc1crUN5_6LbrcJLxiheLx1HAwj1RrQ/s400/100_2740.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384143508632780162" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhei4jd-zM7CXxzAjuHxU2F5Mwt5dXWoss7-6ZJ3ipmUVne7n5FO3wv27qKslMFX3LFDNJyDNIpxisGN6RClUGT9RdiIc5oPjqZA0I1qeJ4AsmwXcDog8GLe0Zi_YOFrzzbWuqMuwiTEA/s1600-h/100_2755.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhei4jd-zM7CXxzAjuHxU2F5Mwt5dXWoss7-6ZJ3ipmUVne7n5FO3wv27qKslMFX3LFDNJyDNIpxisGN6RClUGT9RdiIc5oPjqZA0I1qeJ4AsmwXcDog8GLe0Zi_YOFrzzbWuqMuwiTEA/s400/100_2755.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384143525197271474" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKoo_J8rVYwC3o7WfSrSQIpYBfsV4p8WV8_G-RhmI3hpBykBq2YqXSxQ3iLYJJqQVk-faojTHfRvGBzUrBmRLU_9zWoXL4QYvQw37bB-f6GXO-jmbDlfoDG37Dw5IWLioJZ3n56X45LQ/s1600-h/100_2746.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKoo_J8rVYwC3o7WfSrSQIpYBfsV4p8WV8_G-RhmI3hpBykBq2YqXSxQ3iLYJJqQVk-faojTHfRvGBzUrBmRLU_9zWoXL4QYvQw37bB-f6GXO-jmbDlfoDG37Dw5IWLioJZ3n56X45LQ/s400/100_2746.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384143515157026818" border="0" /></a><br />It was a great night and we fished long into the evening. We then headed for down town Bozeman and sampled the nightlife.<br /><br />The following evening we threw Noah in the car with us and fished the Yellowstone near Pine Creek. Unfortunately the "Stone" was in one of her moods and either of us touched a fish all night. The wind was also up which was a little discouraging. Noah out did us both by catching a 6 inch brown and a 10 inch rainbow on a little panther martin. Despite the lack of action the Paradise Valley was beautiful as always.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGRGznQ2J65gWEXOz2vDsvTSARU8yvFW-26A3vUL16yaIN4WlpbgapgvjTlYI3J6FPBlz1y9HeA_Ly6LgPgyn7FBt1oogQFL3RwgV6VkEzimNljJM_Z9JxTG738LC6G3HGtDbHt3Rww/s1600-h/100_2761.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGRGznQ2J65gWEXOz2vDsvTSARU8yvFW-26A3vUL16yaIN4WlpbgapgvjTlYI3J6FPBlz1y9HeA_Ly6LgPgyn7FBt1oogQFL3RwgV6VkEzimNljJM_Z9JxTG738LC6G3HGtDbHt3Rww/s400/100_2761.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384144370278158802" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjey_4If5FryGea4yrFEo0PjuI8Q7FXTQdEOtmA2x8c15t49D21aL7v5F6PrZc7RI_pHlu3icsMt4xBWDyG8E5tEk6SKHLE9XAjNYOgd8AmBV_NDprOztyL-zk-A4hqQhUyuIgnZcit7g/s1600-h/100_2763.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjey_4If5FryGea4yrFEo0PjuI8Q7FXTQdEOtmA2x8c15t49D21aL7v5F6PrZc7RI_pHlu3icsMt4xBWDyG8E5tEk6SKHLE9XAjNYOgd8AmBV_NDprOztyL-zk-A4hqQhUyuIgnZcit7g/s400/100_2763.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384144379138946930" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizci409O8ifpqQDc8bhidfm4wdK723g0j9Iod7FCZc8OowJgotAe6fibchgp8cGh1AY_03sRd7QY7bYRKyR_uXMYb-IFLtZ1DNSq6BHdndtRkuGYM5wV_PpBFeH2puyoi7zDH1BxCuqw/s1600-h/100_2770.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizci409O8ifpqQDc8bhidfm4wdK723g0j9Iod7FCZc8OowJgotAe6fibchgp8cGh1AY_03sRd7QY7bYRKyR_uXMYb-IFLtZ1DNSq6BHdndtRkuGYM5wV_PpBFeH2puyoi7zDH1BxCuqw/s400/100_2770.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384144391882740818" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLeOldPymog7pf_VhRbyQNEl1SBFPvbzHPVfXZWENK5BQZt3RkXltm_nxQWIky687piJCgElakNFJPRCglqnqoB1prfka5ye_1GlKtrjV0QIRE7ez5PeFMEgnDZR25_I4jPNemZC4dw/s1600-h/100_2764.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLeOldPymog7pf_VhRbyQNEl1SBFPvbzHPVfXZWENK5BQZt3RkXltm_nxQWIky687piJCgElakNFJPRCglqnqoB1prfka5ye_1GlKtrjV0QIRE7ez5PeFMEgnDZR25_I4jPNemZC4dw/s400/100_2764.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384145037536471122" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We then drug our tired bodies out of bed the next morning and hit my favorite stretch of the East Gallatin. The early morning was ridiculously slow. I was begining to wonder if Johnny thought I was trying to keep him away from "my fish." I lost a decent fish early on a copper john but we fished for the first 2.5 hours with basically zero action.<br /><br />Finally we located a pod of risers and Johnny pulled some small fish out of the crowd with a small blue winged olive. I grabbed a snap shot of the trophy rainbow as Johnny sheepishly held up the "lunker". I snapped the pic just as he broke out laughing.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyqshVwhtq1GtNLAqROcTQDjJN51VpgkwNThY1q4ndqewLNnCIIN-WcYs_A4a9CXMOiKKnCvRrmNN5ge7z-38FaXWub58XUSG6bcOzGS3vXTdobiPkcHvyIF1jEawFgJ-yFKGMo0c1cg/s1600-h/100_2772.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyqshVwhtq1GtNLAqROcTQDjJN51VpgkwNThY1q4ndqewLNnCIIN-WcYs_A4a9CXMOiKKnCvRrmNN5ge7z-38FaXWub58XUSG6bcOzGS3vXTdobiPkcHvyIF1jEawFgJ-yFKGMo0c1cg/s400/100_2772.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384144400157303874" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I apparently thought I was fishing for paddle fish becasue I didn't hook a single fish in the mouth. I was nymphing in a nice run when my indicator paused. I set the hook and thought I had hooked into a new state record. I dramatically worked the fish and screamed for Johnny to bring the net. I was a little embarassed when he netted my 14 inch rainbow hooked in the fin.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtU7UiyyYht6iMYDH2O-WelwwGPR6GdhkrwzgneovX9CmBZOqjVrBkKFa6GbzS0Wzic02p8Et_DdGBX3vAlVn-Oaza29apFYhDkgNjtgUxXfT9VahyphenhyphenfS87XYBYgb9WpezCAdRvEhkSQ/s1600-h/100_2774.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtU7UiyyYht6iMYDH2O-WelwwGPR6GdhkrwzgneovX9CmBZOqjVrBkKFa6GbzS0Wzic02p8Et_DdGBX3vAlVn-Oaza29apFYhDkgNjtgUxXfT9VahyphenhyphenfS87XYBYgb9WpezCAdRvEhkSQ/s400/100_2774.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384144409519641810" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjkf0C_Ydcx9mJGba8wwMSMGUeRVmOD8gUHYc-_qjiQBiZzELGQxZJY95xkz4y9vlUFNLmeIEAfJTrEFxhabsutWe5AyyIfYTbVcge_oDK7n1cPkMt1ARuqGOMbB0I-MbJan-Rx2dYPA/s1600-h/100_2777.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjkf0C_Ydcx9mJGba8wwMSMGUeRVmOD8gUHYc-_qjiQBiZzELGQxZJY95xkz4y9vlUFNLmeIEAfJTrEFxhabsutWe5AyyIfYTbVcge_oDK7n1cPkMt1ARuqGOMbB0I-MbJan-Rx2dYPA/s400/100_2777.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384145016457123218" border="0" /></a><br />As we were working back to the truck and started pitching a black muddler to the banks. I watched as a fish bolted from the bank to grab my streamer. Once again I over dramatized the situation and judging from my rod bend the way the fish wouldn't move I thought I had another above average fish on. Once again Johnny scooped my 13 inch brown from the river to find that I once again foul hooked the poor thing.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj4NFFPykQRm-EbjFhBDPuMg5d-9GwdjptnMG9uC1MwCmFOC5CTBnVprJt43EcDZXwrjvg1MJBkPY695eCpUClE2c23GzVlLNhdG8IGz5s2HfJ-4hksMTnCSIRer-1mS9iaUQquG7Ybg/s1600-h/100_2778.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj4NFFPykQRm-EbjFhBDPuMg5d-9GwdjptnMG9uC1MwCmFOC5CTBnVprJt43EcDZXwrjvg1MJBkPY695eCpUClE2c23GzVlLNhdG8IGz5s2HfJ-4hksMTnCSIRer-1mS9iaUQquG7Ybg/s400/100_2778.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384145022706020690" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Johnny left later that day and hit the Missouri for a few hours on his way home. I will have to let him tell that story though. Check out his blog. http://theriverconstant.blogspot.com/<br /><br />It was a great weekend and as far as good times go, Johnny never fails to deliver.JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-62338158582124682952009-09-03T10:45:00.000-06:002009-09-14T10:04:56.169-06:00Take a Kid Fishing<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2tcoTOvefKQ7Ak1VqH0xIvqbJpP7RzvvHF5Jujyj3sYTGPb5qUnIrJVXi-TWOVE7glzlYGV2P03kjznanIigP0u3NqGSjJ0ypLZcRL099nCelb1S1O7QhA6o80sSma-TlaCoc2zZZBg/s1600-h/100_2728.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2tcoTOvefKQ7Ak1VqH0xIvqbJpP7RzvvHF5Jujyj3sYTGPb5qUnIrJVXi-TWOVE7glzlYGV2P03kjznanIigP0u3NqGSjJ0ypLZcRL099nCelb1S1O7QhA6o80sSma-TlaCoc2zZZBg/s400/100_2728.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380997905227762706" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Just a quick note. As one digs deeper and deeper into the obsession of flyfishing, sometimes it is refreshing to take your self back to the roots of the craft. <div> </div><div><br /></div><div>I took my my two youngest kids Noah and Gracee and our neighbor boy to a local pond the other night. Gracee and Noah have both caught fish before but the neighbor boy had never even been fishing. This was exciting to me and it was neat to see Noah step back and unselfishly "guide" his new friend into his first fish.</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>It was a refreshing experience to watch the innocence of young children fishing. The neighbor boy landed his first fish, a sucker. It was awesome to see the excitement over what most of us consider a blight to the fishing world. The boy kept the fish and took it home to ask his folks about mounting the "beauty." </div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>This is what it is all about, finding joy in the most basic components of this sport. If your feel you are ever losing touch with this just take a kid fishing.</div><div> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6PN4w7n_oYjgScqAHYLVoQ6Hex5fr_5Eewy8YkFTepKdElVixxcalV0o9FtFRiVio6sFJ7QG-NZXH5CDf-TyjaTvbIpwg7v8mVpTcNAeiSKkvb6stm6BdLqgyAzmGwbzRy268ZPUbfg/s400/100_2727.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380997887728536002" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-KxL3LA38wqd_T0i7TdjVhBxHjxd3X95eM_bZm0uv0Fg1J5hqMuGejXFYVCA86YEuDgkyabegqomkDZNZ3UEDmc8oa0W_50Z6vxJg6ULWpfty7hahPndnE8rVIeRQr98fgJyjaBKMmQ/s400/100_2725.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381354445726175650" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div> </div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-15961257824829084392009-08-30T20:27:00.000-06:002009-09-16T12:59:45.102-06:00Big Fish on the Gallatin<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiizGeuH7WLIUJczTTHOW1pXiAmPjzcgjtp1WLvUpLWkpR-r77kxV-Uc9sj40ozfa7biONN149sJhxDYBvCit34ot21plivng7derSeqbrcGQBmE3DsuqKZVuFK72fU872smT2876pKgA/s1600-h/mail.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 221px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiizGeuH7WLIUJczTTHOW1pXiAmPjzcgjtp1WLvUpLWkpR-r77kxV-Uc9sj40ozfa7biONN149sJhxDYBvCit34ot21plivng7derSeqbrcGQBmE3DsuqKZVuFK72fU872smT2876pKgA/s400/mail.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380281092704969154" /></a><br />Good news and bad news. The bad news is I haven't been blogging much. The good news is that a big reason for that is that I have been fishing a lot this past month. I also moved (which may be the most painful thing in the world), and the school year just fired up so I have been pretty busy.<div> </div><div><br /></div><div>I found a new stretch of water. This a perfect <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">piece</span> of water for me. It is very <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">underrated</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">therefore</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">does not</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">receive</span> a lot of pressure. Although fish numbers are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">probably</span> low in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">comparison</span> to many of our blue and red <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ribbon</span> streams, it produces some BIG fish. I am reaching the stage of my fly fishing life where I am now searching for quality as opposed to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">quantity</span>. I am content casting all day with little to no action just knowing that on any given cast Mr. Big may explode from the bank and destroy my streamer. Speaking of streamers...</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>I believe I am official hooked on rabbit hide and marabou. I have always enjoyed fishing streamers but as of late I am <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">absolutely</span> hooked on throwing the big junk. I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">have</span> had more and more success and I think I am starting to fish them quite well. This <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">excising</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">interest</span> exploded into full blown <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">obsession</span> after my most recent outing.</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>So I had been eying this particular stretch of water for a month or so. I had past by it a few times and even fished near the bridge for an hour one day. I was suppose to be doing something else but a few casts turned into 50 and I ended up hooking up and landing a nice 16-17 inch brown right under the bridge...on a streamer of course.</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>So the other night I went for it. I hit the river on a Thursday night at about 6:30. A rainstorm had just past, the weather was cool and getting cooler, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">skies</span> were overcast and the sun was sinking low. A perfect evening for streamers. I tied on a basic black <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">wolly</span> bugger and began swinging and stripping it through a nice little side channel run. Within 3 casts I was hooked up on a small but <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">feisty</span> little brown. The little guy shook the hook at the last minute. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">continued </span>wading down the center of the river and working the long and appealing rip-rap bank. I cast my streamers as close to the bank as possible and then try to keep them perpendicular as long as I can. As they drift a give a few small twitches and strips. As the fly begins to swing a begin to strip with short erratic pulls until it is directly below me and about 8 feet away. I then take a few steps downstream and repeat the process.</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>I soon snapped off the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">wolly</span> bugger and changed to possibly the greatest streamer of all time...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Sculpzilla</span>! All of the sudden the pace began to quicken. I fat and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">healthy</span> rainbow grabbed the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">sculpin</span> pattern only to go tarpon on me. This fish went <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">airborn</span> 5 feet four consecutive times and he was coming right at me. I desperately stripped slack but the fish spit the hook.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyiDEu5MUcVlAxuHH1LE-Sbx_902kDPK0lOGA6qOZuXZBsaEBbfms8OFA5vy-4vo6tIVOfzXny2ikBrevRClIqlYM6MlXsqQVS6HD7RA-dag5ov4wguuTggSm4u17rhx0pBIL7X33vZA/s320/3286339839_717be12abb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380284371613465778" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>A dozen casts later I felt what it is that creates streamer addicts. My rod was suddenly greeted by a violent jolt. I strip set into a large fish and raised my rod high. The head shakes were violent and wide. Suddenly my line went slack... Fu@# !!!!! I literally <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">hit</span> my knees in the middle of the river. I quickly regained composure and headed to the next appealing spot.</div><div> </div><div>The next fish hit where I least expected it. I was standing mid river and casting to a deep bank. When my streamer swung it was into a very fast section of water. Strip, strip....whack!!! My reel <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">immediately</span> started screaming. I was pulsing with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">excitement</span> but also petrified with fear. </div><div>I didn't know if I could take the loss of another huge trout. The fish and I played tug of war for a good 8 minutes. I didn't have a net so I was trying work out the best way to land this fish. I never really saw the fish until moments before I gingerly drug him to the waters edge. But when I finally saw what I had caught I came unglued. Picture a grown man dancing like a 5 year old all by himself on a river. I quickly unhooked the now sacred <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Sculpzilla</span> from the fishes mouth. I then spent a good five minutes reviving my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">exhausted</span> opponent. There is something special about this moment. I just admired the beauty of this creature and literally thanked him for what he had just done for me. The beautiful brown taped out at just under 21 inches. By far the biggest fish I have landed this year. The wonderful fish finally swam away only to stop and rest in the shallow water. I was able to watch him swim in the shallows until he finally retreated to the depths. I was unable to get very good pictures using my cell phone, they came out blurry, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">probably</span> because I was shaking...</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>I took a few more casts and then reeled in and headed for the truck. For the first time maybe ever, I felt no more need to fish that day.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYbsk7HJ_KqvIqI178toR_thTrFVYmzJghGJCaijf9sCBb5Gz-pf1xa8y9QQ-LVuYQ96aCwxHlbNO739TxjCN1UyUpN7DwU7V0GsxwKGrlzAlgnQhUdwlYk2dOaXsKt-_dhLgln8qCGg/s400/mail-1.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380281093638370194" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 166px; " /></span></div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-32186545902656424032009-08-09T19:00:00.000-06:002009-08-12T19:10:43.388-06:00Happy Birthday Noah<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR7DJqFGSkcK9V6Q05I6NWmtg03inmOfX18AIx6AGJjuFePo_44WMHih1DpA7DpvGtJTxu0re_H87xYdwpPms00G1pPDM4QiG0psr20dZrL5ilfnE3BZmFPlQy-N_OJVdA8rpxQYjHLQ/s1600-h/Noah's+Fish+013.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR7DJqFGSkcK9V6Q05I6NWmtg03inmOfX18AIx6AGJjuFePo_44WMHih1DpA7DpvGtJTxu0re_H87xYdwpPms00G1pPDM4QiG0psr20dZrL5ilfnE3BZmFPlQy-N_OJVdA8rpxQYjHLQ/s400/Noah's+Fish+013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369249117805640722" /></a><br />Noah, <div><br /></div><div>Happy 7th Birthday my boy. I will never be able to tell you how proud I am of the boy you are now and the man I know you will grow up to be. Thank you for being my son and the best fishing buddy anyone could ever want. We are just getting started...the adventure is only beginning...it is going to be epic!</div><div><br /></div><div>I love you!</div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-8510091917889655532009-07-30T18:12:00.000-06:002009-08-09T18:39:09.859-06:00Noah's Fishing Extravaganza<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDD6tLUev4SUutp1bxb7dFgOJJr0HU3Zj8H4_G7HuNszgHxJKW5L-ewdtql1QyClDVfTf6VFLginzgRdFBsgu5v5zkw9mLGXFSQFtXIfAcCcxcDxbDwo2jmUwHtKp6i7L6q5qLze9SRw/s1600-h/Noah's+Fish+009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDD6tLUev4SUutp1bxb7dFgOJJr0HU3Zj8H4_G7HuNszgHxJKW5L-ewdtql1QyClDVfTf6VFLginzgRdFBsgu5v5zkw9mLGXFSQFtXIfAcCcxcDxbDwo2jmUwHtKp6i7L6q5qLze9SRw/s320/Noah's+Fish+009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368126544622201058" /></a><br />So the lucky boy got to get away from home for a few days. He packed his bag and fishing gear and headed south to Gardiner to stay with his grandparents for about a week. His Grandpa had a week of fishing trips all planned out. They stopped at a few sporting good stores on their way out of town to stock up on tackle and off they went. Noah was a machine...as usually. He will fish from sunrise to sunset. He was actually a bit peeved about Yellowstone Park's rule about not fishing after sundown.<div><br /></div><div>Noah's first destination was Joffe Lake. This beautiful lake lies in the northern part of the park near Mammoth Hot Springs. It is filled with eager brookies and is a popular place to take children. I was pleased to hear that Noah took many of his brookies on a fly. He rigged a clear casting bobber to a spinning rod and drifted a Joe's Hopper to nail his limit of brook trout. He returned to the lake several evenings and filled our freezer with very tasty brook trout. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5-zh-Bahs0XLMxJPBmkI0P8TFezhQEXw3JVLpBwkrU6vsuZvHcloVuFzDtRygvTN1-0lBs03Zom0zsHPgUVZWY-UlnIrQfIR83B7N0OeGAwPYx2GI4VLk0Y0QP6NJx2mi1n_VNSfvA/s1600-h/Noah's+Fish+028-1.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5-zh-Bahs0XLMxJPBmkI0P8TFezhQEXw3JVLpBwkrU6vsuZvHcloVuFzDtRygvTN1-0lBs03Zom0zsHPgUVZWY-UlnIrQfIR83B7N0OeGAwPYx2GI4VLk0Y0QP6NJx2mi1n_VNSfvA/s320/Noah's+Fish+028-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368127502959422754" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4i29TvgwRX32rpTn8ToCkzVmRuNuP-Eil8Unbkw24k9OxGMsEGCYdaP_O0NKJVpM_YIG7lE0tBG-RQkVhf4t2C6gDgWPcu8eqZDOhkUIiaYb9J3dhb55MczWZd3hKdu2_AKW1MdjmSg/s1600-h/Noah's+Fish+012.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4i29TvgwRX32rpTn8ToCkzVmRuNuP-Eil8Unbkw24k9OxGMsEGCYdaP_O0NKJVpM_YIG7lE0tBG-RQkVhf4t2C6gDgWPcu8eqZDOhkUIiaYb9J3dhb55MczWZd3hKdu2_AKW1MdjmSg/s320/Noah's+Fish+012.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368127492958212626" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div>So if Noahs trip was a movie, Joffe is a romantic comedy. Pretty easy going, but predictable. Now for the epic...enter Yellowstone Lake. The huge and vast body of water is intimidating to even the most seasoned anglers and the fish get BIG! This was not your kiddy brooke trout pond, this is one of the largest freshwater lakes in America! Noah fished hard all day with no luck. He watched as several very large yellowstone cutthroats narrowly escaped capture through violent head shakes and the snapping of fishing lines. Finally he struck pay dirt. He landed a whopper. A pig of a cutty. He couldn't hold it with his hands so he just hugged it like a load of firewood. The fish well surpasses the width of his shoulders and almost as big around as it was long. Every bit of 4 pounds, this fish is offically Noah's biggest of his life (and I hate to say, bigger than anything I have caught in a long time!)<br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyePmwC3hUWI0wbWkuTPk7XXoiPDsXpLjV0FldjEvAJK8q6_8Id-DaOwp-QW89TG_pB6cFQq9L5aZIdm-6AaC21N8JJ0-g8WQ5An31vr-MDNPBmcChnx69MhzMx0pNsE02N4TYWOo-6w/s1600-h/Noah's+Fish+013.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyePmwC3hUWI0wbWkuTPk7XXoiPDsXpLjV0FldjEvAJK8q6_8Id-DaOwp-QW89TG_pB6cFQq9L5aZIdm-6AaC21N8JJ0-g8WQ5An31vr-MDNPBmcChnx69MhzMx0pNsE02N4TYWOo-6w/s320/Noah's+Fish+013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368127512403613394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div>The boy couldn't have been more proud of himself. He called me and talked and talked...and talked. He was fired up and I was so happy for him and thankful that his Grandpa gave him that wonderful experience. It will be hard for me to match.<br /></div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-67540644859013326562009-07-21T11:52:00.000-06:002009-08-09T18:11:52.000-06:00Home Sweet Stone<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYU-Mu05PBDJPJ6J3wJS5npb60jm-OFWkb4mkv8PFc47PYoxkY_AHAsdR8voIQaaXu-jqhDRRLCEedgeZHHpjMCSjJf7EfEvBj_5rf-X7yIq_O2ys0K_kOY_bIsgK_-nJXXdcQuh5QIg/s1600-h/6056_121587570670_570630670_2898020_3375915_s.jpg"></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQRu6AwMHdJDr7vHQU52pnuysIbt8ohY1y5bkRqq6sSZN_HBcGw-3ut4lpsluox8ZY30xyc75sfJKvitRhHDPNx1wRTTvKlSYq07TJEcN0Gk5eVaqA6Wa3HKKy_YXjHwQZTTJD2NpAw/s1600-h/6056_121570625670_570630670_2897443_7149767_s.jpg"><span><span></span></span></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0N7tchX0p0rDYn7XZe_t4H1LPfQd-sUjmbhewRO6MIGAMlX-vybFpDxQMJLJ4iJcDXeasH74xtZeCZ9WUVqIRsepzwILg3fv0IqcXJLSJKH-TATMq1v3E-IcJu3dtr-sjISBowm4MkQ/s1600-h/6056_121587535670_570630670_2898015_8109416_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0N7tchX0p0rDYn7XZe_t4H1LPfQd-sUjmbhewRO6MIGAMlX-vybFpDxQMJLJ4iJcDXeasH74xtZeCZ9WUVqIRsepzwILg3fv0IqcXJLSJKH-TATMq1v3E-IcJu3dtr-sjISBowm4MkQ/s320/6056_121587535670_570630670_2898015_8109416_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368036456248819282" /></a><br /><div><br /></div>I returned to my home river this past weekend for a whitewater/fishing float from my hometown of Gardiner. My good friend Zach Jerla was generous enough to offer his raft so my wife and I, along with Zach and his fiance', hit the mighty Yellowstone at about 3 p.m. The weather was not as hot as we would have liked and the temps hovered in the high 7o's with overcast skies for the majority of the day. The "town stretch" thru Gardiner out the McConnell fishing access is the main whitewater on the Stone. The rapids were at prime flows and we tackled some pretty intense rapids ending with the grand finale, Sleeping Giant Rapid. The Giant wasn't sleepy at all, wide awake with fury and power. <div>By the end of the whitewater, the beers cracked open and out came the florid. I casted streamers most of the day and was able to hook one decent brown. I fished on top a little but was only rewarded by the enthusiasm of undersized and over eager trout. The float was great and we pulled out right at dark. The fishing was mediocre to say the least and as you can tell from my wife's netting skills, what we really caught the most of was a good buzz.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8RoevLwyS6qlG7mP19kKH_yPMo6VKvjIxZd_jHjtTj0lFyfTT6IVGKgB15NzBFk0GLPtfDhgcgFujah_RcsjImqxeIHPh0VwNqCftYzX87GJOx43Z8gbDG9vyY3ENQwBpH2ejTqHSpQ/s1600-h/6056_121570625670_570630670_2897443_7149767_s.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8RoevLwyS6qlG7mP19kKH_yPMo6VKvjIxZd_jHjtTj0lFyfTT6IVGKgB15NzBFk0GLPtfDhgcgFujah_RcsjImqxeIHPh0VwNqCftYzX87GJOx43Z8gbDG9vyY3ENQwBpH2ejTqHSpQ/s400/6056_121570625670_570630670_2897443_7149767_s.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368037041726753442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 97px; height: 130px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYU-Mu05PBDJPJ6J3wJS5npb60jm-OFWkb4mkv8PFc47PYoxkY_AHAsdR8voIQaaXu-jqhDRRLCEedgeZHHpjMCSjJf7EfEvBj_5rf-X7yIq_O2ys0K_kOY_bIsgK_-nJXXdcQuh5QIg/s400/6056_121587570670_570630670_2898020_3375915_s.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368037355075645970" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 97px; " /></span><div>The next day I walked Noah down to Chapman's beach and we continued our summer quest to catch Noah his first fish on a fly rod. He is coming so close! He makes the cast, mends the slack and has even had a fish on, we just haven't been able to land the fish yet. The trout were still keyed on large dries due to the recent invasion and passing of the legendary salmonfly hatch. I was able to stick a nice yellowstone cutty on a big orange simulator. I let Noah play the fish to hand and snapped a nice pic.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQCbgvOovP4-X0k43DEJAFqRK-RmANpgwY6WkcJ4MWIVzkYqFBXlt1N3q1S0WNZE4YoHqS44NH3cgr-x5Y0x4IjoS2TX8u_Gp3xCjOlwTmqKXjWLqsytPLPA_a1v5sxgx84gKQ1DmYQ/s1600-h/100_2714.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQCbgvOovP4-X0k43DEJAFqRK-RmANpgwY6WkcJ4MWIVzkYqFBXlt1N3q1S0WNZE4YoHqS44NH3cgr-x5Y0x4IjoS2TX8u_Gp3xCjOlwTmqKXjWLqsytPLPA_a1v5sxgx84gKQ1DmYQ/s320/100_2714.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368042229521554146" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div>I love the Yellowstone. It is filled with memories and makes me long for my youth again. Noah has also fell in love with the river. Every-time we drive into the Paradise Valley and spot the epic estuary Noah says, "There's our river Dad." It is wear it all began for him...and I.</div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-33156866834093698152009-07-08T10:16:00.000-06:002009-07-09T00:36:03.702-06:00East Gallatin<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5QmjbGAbYHuBDuv8yH2TND102lxmu4FEE07ffztePYS3PDdAkBBgf6U92BqMHr5fsilLL_TDaMtbOIWXzCN2mNauOlWJWq5hunS3HyH7aN5P1S3_DD38RayHvUchst3NDiAMf5ttCg/s320/100_2685.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356342984186819538" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Everyone has a river they call their own. We develop a bond to waters that are always there for us in time of need. For some it may be a pond in the middle of town. Regardless of the quality of the fishery, it is always great to have a spot that you can go to on 5 minutes notice. You learn the intimate details about the water and it becomes your campanion.<br /></div><br />The East Gallatin River near Bozeman is my river. Often referred to as the "locals" river, it is wonderful fishery that wanderes through the Gallatin Valley from its head waters near Bozeman to its conflunce with the West Gallatin near Manhattan. The stream is filled with fish and on average produces larger fish than it more popular sister river. Much of the river is fed by spring creeks. This helps the river maintain its flows through most of the winter. Stories of a 13 lb brown being surveyed by FWP linger in the back of your mind everytime you swing a streamer through a deep dark hole.<div><br /></div><div>I like to explore the river as much as I can, but more often than not I ended up at the bridge crossing 5 minutes from my house. I then usually head down stream and start working the runs, riffles and undercuts that have become as familiar to me as a good friend. Some times I show up at dusk to fish the evening rise for an hour. Other times I am there at dawn. Many trips are just quick trips, and serve more or less as a means to "get it out of my system" so i can focus on other things. I often lay in bed at night and think about the deep undercut outside corner bends, mangled with roots and fallen trees. I imagine a goliath that in my mind inevitability stalks these waters. I have already named this fish actually, even though I have no evidence of its existence. I refer to this obsession as my quest to catch "The Beast of the East."</div><div><br /></div><div>Now don't get me wrong. I am not exclusively a big fish person and the East Gallatin is not the river for anyone who is. It has its share of over-eager under-sized trout and on a slow freezing day in January you are very thankful for them. The fish you catch consistently are on average about 14 inches, with a few larger ones on good days.</div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwnV-sCQeGsFl7LnjGjZ6CuKr0GLHw2JbmSFQXPy40Hys0YOUqIbm-9ftzD3-5AVlkVNwOK7c_Px0Q9xeAZrA-p2N1ANJWtdqZwtcr3vIHxO1jIEuIAGlCFa45tHXyenAMe3axMJ4iA/s320/100_2708.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356343298598758418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span><div>Noah and my two daughters accompany me to the river at times. I think its great that instead of watching a bobber at the Bozeman Pond, my kids stalk wild trout on wild rivers. Noah catches 18 inch browns out of freestone streams, why go worm fishing for 6 inch blue gills.(We do do that sometimes when we have to).<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Noah and I had a great day yesterday. We hiked about a mile down river and started fishing a good run at about 3:30 p.m. On my 3rd drift a good fish hammered my pheasant tail nymph. This fish hit so hard I would not have needed an indicator, I felt it big time. The fish gave me a pretty good fight. He took some line and had my rod tip bent hard. It turned out to be a healthy 16 inch rainbow, but he fought bigger than his size. So I released the fish and let Noah have a go. He had just bought a brand new gold Thomas Cyclone with his own money that day. He pitched the spoon across the head of the run and slowly began reeling across the current. About mid way his rod bent and he landed a beautiful healthy brown. We spent a few hours at this one spot and pulled several more fish out of it. The rise was on and I switched to an elk hair caddis. I couldn't get much action but I missed a good fish. I saw the brown role and miss the fly. I would guess this fish was 18-20". I never got him to rise again. The fish were more keyed on small PMD's and a size 16 parachute adams did the trick nicely.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahwWOAvb4PBKFKNMq7iMpqW49fOykfY02EQMUrKylb4PsQRiUylr2mroZ7LNcPyXz1NfmKxHzNF3MWj_0WKz31wW66TTp3fC31oeJqyco5qT8mVmJl8fZ-dQgTt__u028rwuiP-nb6w/s1600-h/100_2709.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahwWOAvb4PBKFKNMq7iMpqW49fOykfY02EQMUrKylb4PsQRiUylr2mroZ7LNcPyXz1NfmKxHzNF3MWj_0WKz31wW66TTp3fC31oeJqyco5qT8mVmJl8fZ-dQgTt__u028rwuiP-nb6w/s320/100_2709.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356343685900551458" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNRHyBDdmykxCkZSfKgoNyY46DmFyWUe6t8L2ZVQu4Ugf6dG3Idh4RAVJu_2_9aLDQC25jUsk4nQvWv92FK8eZb3UkP5dw1mRkd2vJaQ1B-60zwyd50yoGAW3-G7S5kvZRcnuqws1IA/s1600-h/100_2712.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNRHyBDdmykxCkZSfKgoNyY46DmFyWUe6t8L2ZVQu4Ugf6dG3Idh4RAVJu_2_9aLDQC25jUsk4nQvWv92FK8eZb3UkP5dw1mRkd2vJaQ1B-60zwyd50yoGAW3-G7S5kvZRcnuqws1IA/s320/100_2712.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356344042651096562" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div>So why do I deserve to call the East Gallatin "my spot?" Why do I deserve to get pist and cuss a little when I see cars parked by "my" section of river. Well I don't probably. But I guarantee the majority of the people fishing in "my river" have not payed their dues. I fished the east gallatin all but one weekend through the winter (completely frozen over) I have spent hours in 10 degree weather trying to dead drift miniscule nymphs through a 3 foot opening in the ice. I have lost countless streamers and crayfish patterns trying to lure "The Beast" from his fortress. I have skated mouse patterns along deep undercuts at midnight. I was skunked the first 5 times I fished the river and I kept coming back. I have dove into a deep pool to retrieve my stupid cell phone! Yes, I would like to say that I have at least earned a share in the wonderful stream named the East Gallatin.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEH1inRNVvmAMxGV9bNXGD0f3qOmKM-vodHasSWT1SkT5HtF6GtNcoK4I0BGQM8VwPsI3MJMYsguBwp-8u1j5_3EycQd8t0QhUWx_vOtUvE7xIRe8nSiZwtd2n7Ti3mhBe-bHTWGt_g/s1600-h/IMG_5365.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEH1inRNVvmAMxGV9bNXGD0f3qOmKM-vodHasSWT1SkT5HtF6GtNcoK4I0BGQM8VwPsI3MJMYsguBwp-8u1j5_3EycQd8t0QhUWx_vOtUvE7xIRe8nSiZwtd2n7Ti3mhBe-bHTWGt_g/s320/IMG_5365.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356344887943968258" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-48221135498651258622009-06-27T18:17:00.000-06:002009-06-27T18:46:38.163-06:00Fairy Lake Trek<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUaEKl9_eVEmPy37-PMpR8cKkj_AY8vkynY-kjr9N39tX1ohD3-RMNRE_-WvJ3KuxeUc3bYeYgYtH0T0ODgBU66llTS_jA_BlZJsxfE35Px_vGny4UnQs36JQ7e2zRldUrLGW5I9h2Q/s1600-h/CIMG0590.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUaEKl9_eVEmPy37-PMpR8cKkj_AY8vkynY-kjr9N39tX1ohD3-RMNRE_-WvJ3KuxeUc3bYeYgYtH0T0ODgBU66llTS_jA_BlZJsxfE35Px_vGny4UnQs36JQ7e2zRldUrLGW5I9h2Q/s320/CIMG0590.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352173327619567490" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09Hon5g6_ZlVS5zlWVnLKaI_-TUibNBEJyhGJ4QGQAjIyUFiXf84pCbeFI4evvI07LtE_KlL8e4lf41IYDOD9ToQQWOXgRhAjdgtA9_XtZHP0pm8Zhycqw8R5IhwcgqIEQbXxoz0GPw/s1600-h/CIMG0593.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09Hon5g6_ZlVS5zlWVnLKaI_-TUibNBEJyhGJ4QGQAjIyUFiXf84pCbeFI4evvI07LtE_KlL8e4lf41IYDOD9ToQQWOXgRhAjdgtA9_XtZHP0pm8Zhycqw8R5IhwcgqIEQbXxoz0GPw/s320/CIMG0593.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352173320631568850" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHMqFuHd33FcFKICzkoSheh7hpfkPIZXXpRtYml6Fc65rXpZMWUC6o3R7G3QnbK4bKBvPusTbr7QzIho8S-3IvYX4Yh48M-zHG0tBV7rIgdXYI7X6LFsWIxHLcxelRFkEMKBjh9dW9Q/s1600-h/CIMG0579.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHMqFuHd33FcFKICzkoSheh7hpfkPIZXXpRtYml6Fc65rXpZMWUC6o3R7G3QnbK4bKBvPusTbr7QzIho8S-3IvYX4Yh48M-zHG0tBV7rIgdXYI7X6LFsWIxHLcxelRFkEMKBjh9dW9Q/s320/CIMG0579.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352173313882783170" border="0" /></a><br />So on a whim one Saturday I packed up all 3 of my kids and headed up Bridger Canyon. I of course loaded the rods and tackle. I had it in my mind to go check out Fairy Lake. Fairy Lake is a easily assessable local lake nestle high in the Bridger Mountains at about about 7600 ft above sea level. My family has camped there a few times in mid summer. The lake is crystal clear and is as far as fishing is concerned is noted for its highly visible and ever so picky cutthroat trout population. On one visit I literally sat and watched as pods of cutthroat past within 10 ft of the shore. They just do laps around the lake. I never could catch them. Some of these fish push 20 inches.<br /><br />So the plan was to fish this lake earlier in the year with hopes that the long winter would have bolstered the trouts appetites. To our dismay the road to the lake was closed about 3.5 miles from the destination. I don't know what I was thinking, but I lightened my gear and, a 3 year old, 6 year old and a 10 year old and myself started hiking.<br /><br />Now its a moderate pull up to the lake and the road was covered in many places with huge snow drifts (hence the road closure). We literally stopped to rest every quarter mile, but some how through pure persistence my little buggers made the climb.<br /><br />We descended down a snow covered trail into fairly lake. The lake was still 95% iced over. I was a little surprised. It was the 2nd week in June and only a few patches of shoreline water was exposed. The water was gin clear so we sat and watched hoping to spot some hungry trout emerging from their winter prison. No such luck. The ice must have just broke in the past day or two at most. We only stayed 45 minutes and then made the descent another 3.5 miles back to the car. It took us a little over an hour to climb back down the trail that took us 2.5 hours to come up. The kids were bushed and they all passed out on the drive back to Bozeman. I was proud of them. 7 miles is a pretty good day for anybody, let alone a 3 year old!JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-20294493602536096992009-05-29T15:55:00.000-06:002009-06-27T16:34:14.810-06:00May in ReviewMay was a busy month. The kids were busy finishing school and I (as a teacher) was doing the same. The rivers began to rise and we did not fish much. Let me rephrase that...we did not catch much. The trouble with this blog is that I feel pressure to catch fish. You can only post so many entries with words in the title like..."skunked" and "fishless" before you start to reveal yourself as a bad fisherman. A perfect example of that was an all-day excursion Noah and I took in mid May.<br /><br />As I usually do, I had it all planned out. I had made calls, checked weather, and read fishing reports. Noah and I woke up early on a Sunday, loaded the truck, packed lunches and headed out of dodge. (Not before a quick stop for cream filled donuts of course.)<br /><br />We headed up the Madison River. We drove through the picturesque town of Ennis and up into the beautiful Upper Madison Valley. What a beautiful drive. I had called the day before and the ice had just come all the way off Cliff and Wade Lakes. Now anybody who has even browsed through the Montana angling records has probably heard the name Wade Lake. Can you say 29 lb brown trout!! We had to check these out. We fished Cliff first and had no luck. We watched as a few float tubers landed some 14 inchers, but we couldn't find the magic.<br /><br />No big deal, we still had another mountain gem to fish only a half mile back up the road. We fished Wade hard. I tried everything. I stripped buggers, I twitched buggers, I fished chromonids, san juans, copper johns, scuds, leaches, crayfish...and nothing. Noah threw spinners while keeping an eye on his bobber suspending his gob of nighcrawlers. Not a single strike. Wade Lake was filled with crayfish. Noah caught one damn near as big as a lobster! We even rigged those bad boys on a hook for him...but it was not to be. So we left after a lunch.<br /><br />We then made tracks for Hebgen Lake. I was optimistic to say the least. I had heard the lake was on fire as the ice was just starting to recede from the shore. I was just worried about crowds. To my suprise and joy we found a stretch of shore with no one in sight. The ice was off the shore line about 30 feet. I just knew we were going to nail them. It was late afternoon by now. We tried all of my limited stillwater tricks and could not catch a single fish. Seriously! We were like 8 hours into this and had not even touched a fish. We fished into early evening and finally our hungry bellies lured us to West Yellowstone for some McDonalds. We were tired and a bit down. Noah fell asleep ten minutes after he finished his cheesburger. <br /><br />We drove home down the Gallatin Canyon. The sun was sinking low and the canyon was on fire with light. It was unbelivable. What a beautiful day. 2 or 3 fish would have made it perfect but I was in awe of the country and waters that we had passed in a single day. Then I had a thought. Imagine this trip. You would need about 10 days. Make it early September.<br /><br />Day 1: Leave Bozeman. Float Bear Trap Canyon. Chuck Streamers. Camp on Ennis Lake.<br /><br />Day 2: Fish Ennis Lake. Float Tube or boat<br /><br />Day 3: Fish the Upper Madison Chuck Streamers, Hoppers.<br /><br />Day 4: Fish Wade and Cliff Lake. Float Tube or Boat. Camp on the Lake<br /><br />Day 5: Morning Fish Quake Lake: Float Tube or Boat/ Evening Wade the Madison between Hebgen and Quake...Chuck Streamers. Camp at Hebgen<br /><br />Day 6: Fish Hebgen:<br /><br />Day 7: Head down Gallatin Canyon. Fish Gallatin River...River Runs Through It style.<br /><br />Day 8-10: Hike into Golden Trout Lakes. Camp. Catch Golden Trout<br /><br />Day 10: Return Home. Sleep.<br /><br /><br />It is thoughts like these that ease the pain of paying rent in Bozeman MT!JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-88230995792923281732009-04-27T20:28:00.000-06:002009-04-28T07:17:01.856-06:00Big Water, Big Fish<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigSt0E3n1inJO1IE3q48AW9wAQTz57QdlyVTwvjM-sESeT5_38HxxaGE4ABoZoHyx2ByoGJHYZYDDxLOZnYfeGOdN5rzpCWTRD9EmU6w8oaTQ3w6lqkpblOFIEj9cRUGOIugKmt5QmDg/s1600-h/IMG_5631.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigSt0E3n1inJO1IE3q48AW9wAQTz57QdlyVTwvjM-sESeT5_38HxxaGE4ABoZoHyx2ByoGJHYZYDDxLOZnYfeGOdN5rzpCWTRD9EmU6w8oaTQ3w6lqkpblOFIEj9cRUGOIugKmt5QmDg/s320/IMG_5631.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329579871687434082" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6DR0-tAY5ieWYBOXfoLEvVE5YTza_UdAZOh14-a2ZFRpFiwvu79i90jX5812yVSDHmQSkUwSKJ8d6Ha0YfOKR_Z9T095TvDqneNjju96F1sN91mRCrx5NAvUPJmqH3O7rA16vswA6A/s1600-h/IMG_5617.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6DR0-tAY5ieWYBOXfoLEvVE5YTza_UdAZOh14-a2ZFRpFiwvu79i90jX5812yVSDHmQSkUwSKJ8d6Ha0YfOKR_Z9T095TvDqneNjju96F1sN91mRCrx5NAvUPJmqH3O7rA16vswA6A/s320/IMG_5617.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329579864959135506" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1TA4VCyoqvJahPOuQc1XAccSErToEH6vgdCck4fCZsizMrIXUooXzbkNTRQ24iUCL_MHy60pfzdnlKF7n0Ml5JTNwwNzR2K3y0YTqHt8AYbYeJoEs2Nqe__lj1pzXsnM61ybyahtVOg/s1600-h/mail.jpeg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 221px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1TA4VCyoqvJahPOuQc1XAccSErToEH6vgdCck4fCZsizMrIXUooXzbkNTRQ24iUCL_MHy60pfzdnlKF7n0Ml5JTNwwNzR2K3y0YTqHt8AYbYeJoEs2Nqe__lj1pzXsnM61ybyahtVOg/s320/mail.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329579862291966274" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtZIgwHyExyNc4u8bP0QzXo4XJMF0fZ8UJhLVdH88F6Qp7iFvl0KrvyKNnktKHSRJ74aTuSSiesHTkKtlvFKbBpPIMcK8oHqz8zGrpHQts0arVXkExvtVoa57WB3tFNXck9ktIQlSXRQ/s1600-h/IMG_5624.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtZIgwHyExyNc4u8bP0QzXo4XJMF0fZ8UJhLVdH88F6Qp7iFvl0KrvyKNnktKHSRJ74aTuSSiesHTkKtlvFKbBpPIMcK8oHqz8zGrpHQts0arVXkExvtVoa57WB3tFNXck9ktIQlSXRQ/s320/IMG_5624.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329579861628930562" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkomCiRAcARGVq0shRxn5RSbDdYVYL2rhZanHK7zansJdo5GlsPU9UJXGgmC92hK4YtIG0-G3PR40-rR7bYs-0BBhun_8-Fmn8DFj-SjebfoW0_q1NO4sqvS5n3uSUz-rImfKxBT99cw/s1600-h/IMG_5619.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkomCiRAcARGVq0shRxn5RSbDdYVYL2rhZanHK7zansJdo5GlsPU9UJXGgmC92hK4YtIG0-G3PR40-rR7bYs-0BBhun_8-Fmn8DFj-SjebfoW0_q1NO4sqvS5n3uSUz-rImfKxBT99cw/s320/IMG_5619.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329579852060710338" /></a><br />Well, there are some sure signs it's spring in Montana. It must be Mother Nature is moody as hell lately. Earlier last week the temperatures topped 80 degrees. As you can imagine this really got the snow melting which in turned stained all of our rivers brown. It is not impossible to catch fish under these conditions but why try when we are blessed with great spring still-water fishing. Spring is a great time to fish lakes. The ice is off and the fish are prowling the shallows where a fly caster can present them with deceivingly tasty morsels. When you throw rainbow trout into this equation you complicate things. Although they should be hungary from a long winter, but they have spawning on the brain and some take some convincing to eat. I guess I understand this...would you be thinking about a cheeseburger if a pretty lady wanted to spawn with you?<div><br /></div><div>So Noah and I mounted up in the old Dodge Ram and headed out of Bozeman toward Canyon Ferry. Part of Noah's love for these little trips is the special diet he gets when fishing. I generally throw out all the rules and let him have stuff that is otherwise contraband. He grabbed a root beer and some powdered sugar donuts for the 1 hour drive to the lake.</div><div><br /></div><div>When we pulled up to the lake shore I was surprised to see no other fisherman in sight. Canyon Ferry is one of the hardest fished waterbodys in Montana so this was amazing. Then I realized why. It was about 35 degrees and the wind was howling. The lake was covered in white caps and some waves reached 3 feet. It was going to be a tough day, but as I told Noah, "We are tough men!" </div><div><br /></div><div>I bundled Noah in full on ski gear, snow pants, boots, hat, gloves the works. I brought two rods for Noah. One rigged for throwing lures and the other for bobber fishing with night crawlers. (I know, but you have to catch the boy some fish if its that darned cold!)</div><div><br /></div><div>I rigged the fly rod with a red blood work tied to a 9 foot leader. From the lead fly I trailed a egg pattern about 12 inches behind. I placed a strike indicator about 5 feet above the first fly and prepared to do battle with the gale.</div><div><br /></div><div>Things started pretty slow. On a calm day a person could sight fish for these rainbows, but with the rough seas, this was impossible. Its hard not to get discouraged. Canyon Ferry is immense in size and it seems like scratching a lottery ticket. Its daunting to think that somehow a fish is going to find your tiny little fly in that amount of water. But they did. </div><div><br /></div><div>We found a small bay protected from the wind somewhat. I was able to cast 30 to 40 feet of line. Then it was simply a game of patience and concentration. I would strip in a few feet at a time and then just let the indicator bob in the surf. I was moving slowly down the shore line, kind of trolling my fly 20 feet off shore when the first fish hit. What I sensation! These were heavy fish. No they did not take off screaming to the middle of the lake, but the sheer power of these things was great. The fish had taken the red blood worm, which in my opinion imitates a chronomid. Noah was jacked, and immediately asked me to fish in my spot. The fish was beautiful. A classic colored rainbow with a disproportionate sized tail. I did not have a tape with me but she had to have been close to 20 inches. But it was not the length of these fish that made them big, it was there linebacker like physiques. They were so thick! That first fish must have weighed 4 to 5 pounds.</div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately (and surprisingly) The old bait and lure thing never paid off for Noah. He had a short period of jealousy and frustration, but I reminded him that we were a team and when either of us caught fish it was a victory. His spirits eventually lifted and he finally stopped fishing and began watching me and waiting for the next highlight. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the grand scheme of things the fishing was not exactly red hot. We only caught 3 fish in 5 hours but it was more than worth it. This fish took the fly hard and were a thrill to catch. As I set the hook on the final fish and it thrashed the surface near shore, Noah shouted, "Dad! You are awesome!" That is the best part of children...their naive minds. I am certainly not an awesome fly fisherman, but to Noah I am, and thats all that matters.</div><div><br /></div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-46983880409839018452009-04-27T11:17:00.000-06:002009-04-27T11:38:32.783-06:00Happy Easter Noah<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTwkn84RcDv8EdviSZzOjMS5z_SGASpLNwmauUz3sBNn0W5Of14hCO61Kco45gpGuqJYrsQRobsavE9-DPb9Y49giYtETjYjPlAIrzUJpsMorgVmj6wr4wmuDiCmVY_uikR0xhot1ww/s1600-h/IMG_5600-2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTwkn84RcDv8EdviSZzOjMS5z_SGASpLNwmauUz3sBNn0W5Of14hCO61Kco45gpGuqJYrsQRobsavE9-DPb9Y49giYtETjYjPlAIrzUJpsMorgVmj6wr4wmuDiCmVY_uikR0xhot1ww/s320/IMG_5600-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329426907346884354" /></a><br />After we got home from the trip to the ranch, we loaded the rest of the family up and turned around and headed south to Gardiner to spend easter with Brenda's family. After being away and fishing for the past two days I left the rods at home. (What?!!)<div> </div><div>We spent a nice easter morning being with family, hunting for easter eggs and eating. As evening approached, I began to get the itch. Noah did to apparently because he began to working on his Grandpa to go fishing that evening. It turned into a guys night out. Noah and I, my brother and laws Jason and Kenneth and Grandpa Gary took a short drive 5 miles north and got on the Yellowstone to do some spin fishing. Remember, we left the fly rods at home. I remember thinking to myself, "I guess its ok if I cheat just once and fish with shiny metal and treble hooks. I anticipated hot and fast action and honestly was kind of excited after making about 500 casts to catch 2 fish earlier that week in central Montana. I deserved it.</div><div> </div><div>After fishing for a good 45 minute only one of us even had a fish on. Ken has hooked a small fish that got off near the shore. Noah was going to work. He was not happy to stand in one spot and cast. He was working the water, making bomb like cast over half way across the river. I was about 100 yards from him when I heard the splash. A large fish was thrashing the surface near the center of the river. Attached to this fish was a fishing line, followed by a pole which was held by a 6 year old boys intensely working his reel. He maneuvered his rod to keep the tension on the fish. The whole time he hadn't said a word. The fish was on the bank by the time I got to him. He turned and looked at me with a smile on his face and said rather calmly "biggest fish of my life." It certainly was. He had landed a beautiful brown trout. I pulled a tape measure on it and it measured just over 17 inches. The fish was in great shape, thick and heathy with beautiful red speckling against his chrome flanks. </div><div> </div><div>Grandpa caught a small cutthroat later that evening and I managed land a 6 incher. Noah was the king and he was very proud. The fish of his young lifetime. When we got back he showed everyone the picture, told everyone the story and asked me to make a few phone calls to tell some other people of his epic accomplishment. I could not imagine a better easter present for a boy.</div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-170692258364499882009-04-25T12:09:00.000-06:002009-04-25T13:35:07.467-06:00Central Montana<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQMdhwuD1HgOXqi9nimqhdnZtzDkecPkLZBAEVlYQF5DR1sUnq0yuiaVKQGaZ5dZLwFFgVI0s5B0VqL1tVC182_mns6ljhbmwtaru0rTgQtyTTi12WvLVIa59EyOLZvAjH2k89qJXAg/s1600-h/IMG_5468.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQMdhwuD1HgOXqi9nimqhdnZtzDkecPkLZBAEVlYQF5DR1sUnq0yuiaVKQGaZ5dZLwFFgVI0s5B0VqL1tVC182_mns6ljhbmwtaru0rTgQtyTTi12WvLVIa59EyOLZvAjH2k89qJXAg/s320/IMG_5468.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328714607403954242" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaR7lKU9bCOOHlA-dgn5f_IJ3CC3z-0nwThm_yNfqC53uhY7KNAmxreFeA5IIvFMyZr7tf9yQJRqz2PsHfrdXbxHIfHYiyeCDT7so5u3JkF7KczQKBFwK1qVl4BaR27ELOvx-jwqezg/s1600-h/IMG_5472.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaR7lKU9bCOOHlA-dgn5f_IJ3CC3z-0nwThm_yNfqC53uhY7KNAmxreFeA5IIvFMyZr7tf9yQJRqz2PsHfrdXbxHIfHYiyeCDT7so5u3JkF7KczQKBFwK1qVl4BaR27ELOvx-jwqezg/s320/IMG_5472.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328707259813115746" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpOg5f5weMGfS2dP2xbC_AjvbBjTac0bvUKPDDsN5bV5n-ahPdNQBkTmKPjoxmmZ9l9oU72lXmmSXnrF7qTLlnNeO1oiQ18UqotSPMms-kniKpDJq96YWfQ4ZfXl9dpooH1awMZdhxA/s1600-h/IMG_5611.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpOg5f5weMGfS2dP2xbC_AjvbBjTac0bvUKPDDsN5bV5n-ahPdNQBkTmKPjoxmmZ9l9oU72lXmmSXnrF7qTLlnNeO1oiQ18UqotSPMms-kniKpDJq96YWfQ4ZfXl9dpooH1awMZdhxA/s320/IMG_5611.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328707258463866482" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPEbKP3_ZNE5nX4F8SCSdglfiGSTCwRD6xW3NLKo-nU73CUQtgCXt5gmvCN4SwR3sBwyQPTMnqMflpIPOseXt-I0OrPuzxXPkzCPSu0abVQsBYDn4tOyr5b0ePs951-8DjdmuhYY1Gw/s1600-h/IMG_5448.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPEbKP3_ZNE5nX4F8SCSdglfiGSTCwRD6xW3NLKo-nU73CUQtgCXt5gmvCN4SwR3sBwyQPTMnqMflpIPOseXt-I0OrPuzxXPkzCPSu0abVQsBYDn4tOyr5b0ePs951-8DjdmuhYY1Gw/s320/IMG_5448.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328707251197206562" /></a><br /> With a 4 day weekend at hand, I decided to go visit my dads ranch in central Montana. Gracee actually hitched a ride up on Wednesday and Noah and I followed her Thursday after school. We spent some time at the ranch and helped with a few ranch chores. One great bonus to this trip was the somewhat unknown brown trout fishery only minutes from my dads front door.<div><br /></div><div>This steam is technically a river but is very small in size. It is much like the East Gallatin near Bozeman. It is a winding water, characterized by riffles, run and undercut banks. At first glance one would never guess that lurking in these waters are big brown trout. The standard FWP info claims that fish average 10 inches in this river. But an inside source who had fished the river last spring said that it was more like 16-18 inches. Others report fish in the 5 pound range being caught frequently. When fish are getting this big it is not unlikely that there are some 30 inch fish in this thing!</div><div><br /></div><div>Noah and I set out with much excitement and anticipation. We first arrived on the river at mid day. Noah was casting lures and I began swinging streamers. 4 hours later, Noah and I trudged home...fishless.</div><div><br /></div><div>The water was fairly muddy, and the day was very warm and bright. These were also brown trout and they are not known for feeding out in the open on a bright sunny day. Noah was pretty much over it. The stream was hard for him to fish. It was narrow and brushy and he snagged up quite often. He did give it a valiant try and I am always impressed with the diligence that he displays for being so young.</div><div><br /></div><div>He was tired so I drove him back to the house. It was now almost 6 p.m and I did not want to end it that way. I figured the evening would be better anyway. I drove back down to the river and began working the banks with big streamers. A lot of casts went by before finally a got a hook up. The fish fought hard and it was defiantly larger than any of the fish I had caught so far this year. I landed the fish and pulled a quick tape on it. It was just a touch over 15 inches. Not a big fish by any means but after so many fish-less hours I was feeling like a just caught a steelhead. This fish did create one milestone for me. It was the first fish I have caught on a fly that I tied myself, a black and green woolly bugger. I released the fish a fished on with a little more adrenaline in my veins.</div><div><br /></div><div>It took another 2 hours to strike pay dirt again. By now the excitement of the last fish had worn off and I was beginning to tire. The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky. I had no more luck on the self tied wooly bugger so I went bigger and brighter. I tied on a natural and yellow double bunny and went to work with it. I spotted a deep undercut bank and casted across and slightly upstream. I mended once to let the fly sink and then let it swing into the deep water adjacent to the opposite bank. I suddenly felt a jolt unlike anything I had felt in a long time. This fish had my rod bent double and made a quick run that took about 30 feet of line. I actually had to strain to keep the rod tip up. I finally landed the fish. It was by far the biggest fish I had caught on my fly rod in a number of years. I taped it at 19 inches. Once again, not a trophy trout, but under the difficult circumstances I was thrilled. I released the fish and being a little caught up in the moment, looked toward the beautiful evening sky and spoke out loud..."Thank you."</div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-81782595983064400662009-02-08T23:30:00.000-07:002009-02-19T00:20:50.238-07:00Skunked in the Bear Trap<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhneW4luc6Jnh7vDdswOXjFlRT4_hUb3AIpKu6OJToVcgGnF0tX2-1Gg9Vv9TEkulRnhVXdaHBavi8xLmUevrI5Za0bXgC5luS9uLYf2Wv1KPxjTFWej0w4sf1z72qTz1BsO1k2Jkv-TQ/s1600-h/IMG_5358.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhneW4luc6Jnh7vDdswOXjFlRT4_hUb3AIpKu6OJToVcgGnF0tX2-1Gg9Vv9TEkulRnhVXdaHBavi8xLmUevrI5Za0bXgC5luS9uLYf2Wv1KPxjTFWej0w4sf1z72qTz1BsO1k2Jkv-TQ/s320/IMG_5358.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304405021230797682" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErgXyGQdpazBsK2V1lVyFF87205O5R0xU9amRg_TC0sud2ndu4VUV-cLEyZjzUhwnBc_VojakHtZYlh-q6qCvarQJMRt8EL_9UNR9Vuz6W16McKpor_oZ1evlYR26rXShStZ79x-JNg/s1600-h/IMG_5362.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErgXyGQdpazBsK2V1lVyFF87205O5R0xU9amRg_TC0sud2ndu4VUV-cLEyZjzUhwnBc_VojakHtZYlh-q6qCvarQJMRt8EL_9UNR9Vuz6W16McKpor_oZ1evlYR26rXShStZ79x-JNg/s320/IMG_5362.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304405016926195330" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I spent the past week planning a little fishing trip. Noah and I were due for an all day outing that would take us further than our typical 1/2 day trips to the East and West <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Gallatin</span>. Being that we live only a 20 minute drive from one of the most famous trout rivers in the world, I decided it is probably time that we fished the Madison. I am <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">embarrassed</span> to say that after living here for almost 6 years and in the state my entire life, I had never fished this river.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I began thinking and researching were on the river to fish. I looked up a few fishing reports and contemplated a few options. Being it was early February I decided that the head of Bear Trap Canyon just below Ennis Dam would be a logical choice. I friend also informed me that the river was more defined there and one could wade the bank and fish the pocket water in the canyon. This sounded perfect for a day out with Noah.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I of course then began to read about the monster fish that reportedly stalked the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tail waters </span>immediately below the dam. The thought of even the possibility of hooking a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">lunker</span> gets me a little excited and I might get a little carried away with my imagination. Needless to say I was pretty excited as Noah and I packed the truck and headed towards Ennis early Sunday morning.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This would be the first time that Noah would only take his fly rod. I hoped we could get at least one fish so he could receive the gratification that he has seemed to obsess about lately.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The drive over was absolutely beautiful. As you drop into the Ennis area it seems all you can see is beautiful mountains surrounding the ice covered waters of Ennis Lake.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We parked the truck in the Canyon at 9:30 and there were no other fisherman in sight. This is what I had wanted, even though the fish would probably not be very active until about noon. <br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The canyon was beautiful. It reminded me a lot of Yankee Jim Canyon near my hometown of Gardiner. We waded and fished through various riffles and pockets with no luck. Noah stuck to the red <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">san</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">juans</span> while I experimented with some black stone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">flys</span> trailed by <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">various</span> small nymphs. Not a single strike all morning.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We ate lunch in the truck at about 11:30. Suddenly fisherman began appearing all over the place. By the time we had finished lunch there were 6 fisherman fishing the short stretch we had spent the morning on. We waited patiently for a guy to move from a nice spot that we had not covered yet. We decided to set up shop there and work the spot hard.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Noah struggled through his day of casting. He did well at times, but the waters were a little advanced for him. He rarely was able to get his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">flys</span> to were fish might be. We tried everything, nymphs, streamers and even a dry fly in response to a few random rises that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">occured</span>.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Under less crowded circumstances I would have started to work down the canyon further, but it seemed like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">everytime</span> we would head to a new spot, 1 or 2 fisherman were on it. I really don't like fishing in crowds and to tell you the truth I don't really know the rules and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">etiquette</span> of it all. Plus I had the little guy with me and we needed more space. You never know when a 6 year old is going to get board and chuck a big rock into the river and ask you if you heard that fish jump! <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Probably</span> not a part of crowd fishing etiquette.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We gave up. We called it good at about 1:30. We drove back down the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Madison</span> and tried a few pull offs on the lower river, but once again...crowded with fisherman. I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">either</span> need to get more use to this or stay away from the Madison. This is February mind you, the "off season". <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Imagine</span> what it looks like in August!<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We did stop and make a few cast from a boat put in. The river below the canyon turns into a wide spanning indecipherable riffle with no real obvious holding areas. I put a huge nasty double bunny on and swung it through the current for about 30 minutes. I was brought back from my building depression by a huge strike. I set the hook but had apparently missed. I got back into it again. I mean any bad day can be saved by a 20 inch brown. Two cast later another jolt...and then nothing. I made at least 20 more swings but nothing. Noah was over it by now and was now on a mission to collect as many dried cattails as possible to make his little sister a fishing pole...uh ya, he had lost <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">interest</span>. Who could blame him, six hours on the water and...nothing.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We loaded back into the truck and limped home, tails tucked, ears back...defeated. But, as always Noah showed his appreciation by telling me "thanks for taking me fishing dad. It was fun even if we didn't catch anything." He is amazing that way. We have been skunked together more than I would like to admit, but he keeps coming back, keeps saying thank you. Then it always hits me, there is a little more going on here than just catching fish...<br /></div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-44863875758573658212009-01-18T13:27:00.000-07:002009-02-18T23:27:40.549-07:00A Great Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gnwBht6pMdyqiJM8UAcLFfpfNyuNY-jPN2vZlj_W3UX82qe-4wy94GQr0-RU7spmxnz6tStoT0GFuRC-_TFt-Z9SrdUTtc673Up5Ru7UMRJraethyp7FrQpLzwDgb2__HV4U5zgDOg/s1600-h/IMG_5193.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gnwBht6pMdyqiJM8UAcLFfpfNyuNY-jPN2vZlj_W3UX82qe-4wy94GQr0-RU7spmxnz6tStoT0GFuRC-_TFt-Z9SrdUTtc673Up5Ru7UMRJraethyp7FrQpLzwDgb2__HV4U5zgDOg/s320/IMG_5193.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304391360881602786" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> Noah and Ashton and I packed some snacks and our fishing stuff and took a drive over to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Gallatin</span> River near Belgrade today. We brought our 5 month old yellow lab <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Jax</span>. We hiked up river from the access about a mile to a nice deep run that I remembered from last summer. We have had some very warm temperatures for this time of year (it got up to 60 this week!) and the river was flowing very good. <div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This particular fishing spot brought back memories of a wonderful day last summer when I took all 3 of my kids to this spot and spent a great afternoon. The kids played in the sand and splashed in the water. They caught a handful of minnows from a shallow pool. We ate lunch and I even had time to catch a fish or two out of the deep pool. The sad part is that i actually caught my biggest fish of last summer from this run...an 18 inch whitefish. Needless to say last summer wasn't a good one for large trout.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Back to the present. Our "secret spot" looked very different than it had in August. The sand bar was nothing but a sheet of snow and ice and the pool itself was crowded by a thick ice shelf that shrunk the river by at least half. Despite these changes, the spot was still very <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">fishable</span> and by standing on the ice it was an easy cast and drift to get the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">flys</span> to where the fish were. <br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Noah brought his spinning rod rigged up with nymphs and a casting <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">bobber</span>. I tried a few different small nymphs with no success. I then tied on a small red <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">san</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">juan</span> worm tied from very ultra <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">chennile</span> on a size 16 hook. I raised the indicator to well over the depth of the water and placed a small split shot above the fly. I wanted to make sure I was on the very bottom.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>On the first cast, I watched the indicator jig as the fly bounced on the gravel bottom and then it suddenly disappeared. A few seconds later I had landed a 10 inch rainbow. Ah ha! I thought. I tied the same fly on for Noah and we both began catching fish. By the time we had finished we had pulled 8 fish out of this one run, the biggest being a nice brown of about 15 inches (a decent fish for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Gallatin</span>). This of course does not include the fat sucker that Noah snagged off the bottom of the river.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We returned to the truck at about 4:00 p.m. Just a wonderful day on the river with the kids.<br /></div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-18602251751868290192009-01-12T18:13:00.000-07:002009-04-27T22:36:38.889-06:001st Fish of The Year<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgio5Z1hVoAKGVL0X_muaTl53K27ma00DDy8D3MSDOOiSZFDC4mGK2nFJC70GqXFTuhfuIwuERpfkaLFATgS8TmuyZ_eIILuiXQRyjn0Q5GHcEfaM_ezmdhfwOCwJELbGC5PRB_8kWfSg/s1600-h/Jake+Fishing.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgio5Z1hVoAKGVL0X_muaTl53K27ma00DDy8D3MSDOOiSZFDC4mGK2nFJC70GqXFTuhfuIwuERpfkaLFATgS8TmuyZ_eIILuiXQRyjn0Q5GHcEfaM_ezmdhfwOCwJELbGC5PRB_8kWfSg/s320/Jake+Fishing.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304186336765176290" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8-Bvin4ii-fuvQDQzMu4vxFeR1aTFVaO2ORfnS0qVxeoiSzjzyXqo3cVkaEmw5h2Y5Yn1gBj16dGXPSwJYj6ZaqnXzdytuVxe53Hd1UazQsAAczv8Cu8WK4Nj8syZ7DynWYXGspnV7w/s1600-h/IMG_0127.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8-Bvin4ii-fuvQDQzMu4vxFeR1aTFVaO2ORfnS0qVxeoiSzjzyXqo3cVkaEmw5h2Y5Yn1gBj16dGXPSwJYj6ZaqnXzdytuVxe53Hd1UazQsAAczv8Cu8WK4Nj8syZ7DynWYXGspnV7w/s320/IMG_0127.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304186329175725458" /></a><br /> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> I headed down to a good friends cabin in Paradise Valley in early January. I did not take Noah which always makes me feel guilty, but the ice shelves on the banks of Yellowstone where too dangerous to bring the little guy. (This will prove to be true a little later in this post.)<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I drove over the pass to Livingston and then swung south into the valley at about 11 a.m. I took the pine creek road across the river and then drove another 7 miles or so on the east river road to the Jerla's cabin.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It had been calm and in the 50's when I left Bozeman, but the Paradise Valley's trademark winds had things feeling a bit cooler. Zach greeted me with a beer and we rigged up our rods. I tied on a black and orange bitch creek I had tied the night before and dropped a yellow stone fly nymph about 10 inches off the shank of the hook.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We then hiked about 15 minutes upriver on the Old Yellowstone Trail. This was old wagon trail that was once the only trail to Yellowstone Park. As I had suspected the river banks were frozen out about 10 feet from the regular shore line, shrinking the river by a good 30%. We reached a bend in the river and spotted some promising pools. We stopped in an old historic concrete dug out the drink a beer and get out of the wind.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The bend in the river had a large pool of back water which was now a wind blown mixture of sand and ice. We carefully crossed this out to the main channel and began fishing a nice deep run. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Zach started fishing a about 50 yard above me. I made about 15 casts up stream, dead drifting the nymphs thru the fast water and then riding the back current back around. The drifts were long and covered a lot of water. I knew there had to be fish holding in this spot, but it was January and the trout were not likely to chase anything.I figured I should keep working the spot and if the fly moved close enough the fish would take. I patiently continued dredging the run, when the indicator made a slight pause. It was so subtle, I'm not sure why i even reacted, but when I lifted the rod I was pleased to feel the wonderful tugging of the fighting fish. <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The fish was heavier than I expected and got into the current and took a little line. I began playing it on the reel and then the thought first crossed my mind that I didn't know how i was going to land this fish. The last 2 feet of ice near the water was pretty thin and this fish was a little too big to jerk up onto shore. I then started to doubt that I would even have the opportunity because this feisty trout kept diving for cover under the ice shelf. I winced a few times as I waited for my leader to snap, but it never did. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Zach had walked over at this time and asked if I needed the net. I said yes, and Zach made his way towards the fish which had now made its way towards the top of the run near the faster water. Zach stepped out on what appeared to be sand and as he leaned to net the fish the whole bank disappeared from under him. Zach plunged neck deep into the icing Yellowstone. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He quickly turned back toward shore. I offered him my hand but for some reason that was insulting to him. He drug himself onto shore, soaked from head to toe. After all of this I still had the fish on.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The trout was tiring and I was able to swing him to a safer landing zone. Zach, acting as if nothing had happened quickly reach out and netted the fish. It was a fat and healthy rainbow, about 14 inches long. Zach being the great friend that he is snapped a picture, and I then released the beautiful fish back into the river.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>At this point I urged Zach to start running for home before he became hypothermic. It was about 25 degrees with a stiff 30 mph wind. The funny thing is Zach actually contemplated it! He finally made a b line for the house for some dry cloths. He returned in about 1/2 hour and we continued fishing.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We only stayed on the water for another hours and i was only able to snag a sucker with my dropper after it took a strike at my lead fly. We returned to Zach's place and warmed up some old pizza, had a few beers and watched the NFL playoffs. I headed for home just before dark.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The fish in itself was nothing spectacular, but it was the first of 2009, and was netted by a good friend. This in itself mixed with a little drama made for a great day of fly fishing in January.<br /><div><br /></div></div>JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440286155029637013.post-44860647447489514742009-01-02T17:42:00.000-07:002009-02-15T21:33:39.096-07:00Introduction<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xKvapBBd1x4UZBXf5Pk-l1qNxWzC9Fw5cnRodn3pO5anXt-xp8mjeWzoGXeAyvHGy3BnspmzlnA_QpkDo_bRMoUcVhdD7fNfNHJSnIALAU7iF8uyHeICQtwvpqa6XAaLtO5ZZoL3gA/s1600-h/IMG_4636.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xKvapBBd1x4UZBXf5Pk-l1qNxWzC9Fw5cnRodn3pO5anXt-xp8mjeWzoGXeAyvHGy3BnspmzlnA_QpkDo_bRMoUcVhdD7fNfNHJSnIALAU7iF8uyHeICQtwvpqa6XAaLtO5ZZoL3gA/s320/IMG_4636.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303248375474471202" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBQOkrTIUuHUTvCd7FW50zXePUg4-yIxtJBN9aLzO1Ramd8eHmoLR4yofKiqedS-pqNPxoLmftSGxbM2Jfx9YgiE16BvxEl3TaqlFDCWz0h8eV_lm4oYbLfdqHwfVIpC7ZbNxQddZKaA/s1600-h/IMG_4636.JPG"><span><span></span></span></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">It is now 2009 and Noah and I have entered this year with a shared passion for fly fishing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The spark reignited with me late last summer and as exploded with full force which has become even a little obsessive at times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As my fishing outing became more and more frequent Noah’s interest has grown and grown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="page-break-after:avoid"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>At first I always packed along a carton of night crawlers and let him do the bait and bobber thing, but he quickly graduated to chucking spinners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As he watched my catch a few fish on the fly rod he became more and more interested in fly fishing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We soon began tying nymphs and a casting bobber to his spin rod and fishing that way.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>At Christmas he got his first fly rod, a 6 1/2 foot eagle claw noodle rod.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We also began tying flies together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Although the last 1/2 of 2008 was filled with some interesting stories, I am choosing to let those go and begin a fishing journal for the new year of 2009.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Noah accompanies me on most of my fishing excursions so he will definitely be a central character.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I see this as a special year for both of us as we both learn and grow in this newfound love that we share. <o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <!--StartFragment--><!--EndFragment--> <!--StartFragment--><!--EndFragment-->JRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11796098843412113262noreply@blogger.com0