Break Away

"The unexamined life is not worth living."

-Socrates (according to Plato)

Why is it so hard to break away from some patterns of living? Sometimes we get stuck in a rut and form a white-knuckle death grip on habits and patterns.  At times I find myself just existing rather than living a deliberate life. I think we all fight the monotony of the everyday grind.  Some say that life is about doing what you want to do. I think there is some truth to that, but at the heart of that ideal is the temptation for the person to live a life focused inward.  Being selfish or living a life miserably for someone else's sake isn't really living either, there is a balance.  Doing what has to be done is a necessary part of life, but there needs to be purpose, a plan, and a deliberate (examined) approach to decisions.  Anyone with small children understands that life is not always fun, entertainment, and personal time.  Personally, all the selfish "what about me?" thoughts melt away (and they are there every now and then) with one smile from my 2 year old, with one squishy hug from my 4 year old, or with one "Dad, I love you" from my 6 year old.  There is something unbelievably satisfying about pulling into the driveway after work and having at least two of my little boys run out the front door screaming "DADDY!"

Concerning selfishness, I'm not necessarily sure it's having kids that makes all the difference, though I think it can make it much easier to forget yourself (I highly recommend the experience for lasting happiness).  Having children demands sacrifice, but if you do not require children to be a better giver and a more compassionate person, than you my friend are far ahead of this selfish old codger and are headed in the right direction.  Thank goodness for moments, people, and experiences that jolt me and shake me out of the inward patterns of living.  Sometimes the blinders are slowly removed from our eyes, one small portion at a time. Other times they are ripped away, but either way we are helped and we can see there is so much more to life than our daily routines.  It is hard to do, but when I break away from the plain, selfish, and unexamined and try to focus on others, I find I am truly happy, not always entertained, but truly happy.

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Lately I have been lucky to have even one day every other week to get out on the water.  You would think I'd be more guarded about those precious days and where I chose to spend them since they have grown much fewer.  On those free days I would normally opt for chasing large trout in water that is not kid-friendly for wading, and often requires a decent hike. I'm not sure what happened to make me let go, but something has helped me let go and break away. Something opened up my mind and softened my heart, and spending my free days with my family has been far more important than chasing large healthy trout. I'm sure my fishing mania will return to some degree (it always does), but taking these extra days with my wife and children has been exactly what we all needed. (This makes it sound like I am never with my family.  We actually spend quite a bit of time together, but I think this is all about having more quality time.)

Birch Creek

The day started with a pretty laid back feeling, something I'm not used to for a day dedicated to fishing.  About 10 o'clock the van was all loaded with our gear, and Will and I were on the road. After two trips back home for forgotten knickknacks we picked up Mark. This was to be Mark's second time fly fishing and so we planned a day trip for a small creek full of hungry little trout.

Birch Creek is an excellent location for beginners. Just 20 minutes outside of Mud Lake, Idaho it has 15 miles of easily accessible water.  It is very wade-able, holds many smaller wild rainbows and brook trout up high, and is heavily stocked with planters down lower in the campground stretch.  It fishes about the same year round, and isn't touched by the runoff.  It really is a neat place, and one of the reasons I grew to love fishing so much.

It's been years since I have really fished it, since I usually opt for a bigger quarry, but it felt great heading back to a place I consider my homewaters. Sometimes it is easy to forget that these kinds of fisheries are what generate a love for the sport.  The drive up through the desert is enjoyable this time of year since it is in that small window where much of the desert is green with new life.

After arriving, we geared up and tied on big royal wulf patterns. Will was excited to get on the water, despite the chilly breeze.

Will got hooked up with a couple small nymphs and a thingamabobber since it was so windy.  I pointed to a small barbwire fence upstream a bit and encouraged will to go try by it while I helped Mark figure things out.  Not but a minute after he started casting Will was yelling "Hey Dad, I got one!" I went and helped him release the little rainbow and returned to helping Mark. Will kept catching fish all by himself throughout the day.  I was sure proud of him.  You don't hear of too many 6 year olds who can hold their own with a fly rod.  I did get hooked twice and spent a decent amount of time untangling knots and line from bushes, but I'll trade those hazards anytime for a smile like the one on this kids face.

First of the day.

One of the biggest treats for the day happened toward the end. We had been fishing up higher for the smaller, wild trout, so we decided to go downstream and scope out the campground to see if there were any holdover planters.  My grandma loves fish, so we wanted to bring a few home for her.  After wading a short distance toward the top of the campground I couldn't believe what I thought I was seeing. Stoneflies (salmonflies) were hatching!  I was blown away!  I had no idea Birch Creek, a tiny creek in the middle of nowhere, had stoneflies.  They were everywhere, so I quickly tied on one of the three patterns I happened to have with me and indeed the fish were keyed in on them! The fish were small, but the takes were remarkably aggressive.
 

We wandered around, looked at the big bugs hatching, fished here and there, kept a small handful of fish, and by that time the light was failing. Will begged to make some more casts so I let him take my rod for a bit while I cleaned the fish. We then loaded up the car, munched down some cold sweet watermelon slices, and began the trek back home. 

Stomach contents: a few adults and a bunch of nymphs.

It was an amazing day.  I love watching my son grow to love fishing.  I had to laugh when he didn't want to stop.  I caught a glimpse of myself at his age, with all the happiness it brought me, and thought if this is what it's like to break away, I need to do it a whole lot more.

Hard Knocks: School's In Session!

The sun came up over the foothills in the east with a fierce red hue that reminds everyone that half the state is burning.  Man it has been a hot dry summer!  I was headed north to meet up with Shane for a day-long float.  I was late as usual, but Shane was a good sport... as usual.  Despite the hot, bluebird skies predicted for the day our plan was to throw tandem streamer rigs for some big shouldered trout.  I was filled with that excitement that all passionate fisherman feel preceding a full days fishing.  With the possibility of large aggressive fish it's hard not to feel a bit giddy (in a manly grunting sort of way).  Little did I know that the day would punch me in the face with a boga grip, swing me around in the air, and finish with a release that a Greek discus thrower would be proud of.

School's in session...

We shuttled the vehicles, rigged up, and were on the water without a hitch.  There were a couple grabs in the first few minutes of floating even, but nothing stuck.  After a short while Shane picked up a decent 18-19incher.

I followed with a handful of little guys.  It was enjoyable exploring new water.  We even rowed up a tiny side channel, and were rewarded with about six fish.  Here I picked up a similar sized fish to Shane's first.

Things were looking good so far.  We kept fishing and floating, picking up fish here and there.  There was a crazy hatch that was hard to identify.  Surprisingly, no fish were up top.

After rowing through some slack water and throwing a couple dries, we came to the money stretch.  We pulled the canoe to the side and began slinging the tandem streamer rigs.  I managed a healthy 17" bow pretty quick right were we stopped.  Shane headed to the other side and I worked my way through the hole to meet him.  Midway through I had the take I was waiting for.  Line peeled off the reel.  The fish fought hard and wouldn't come out of the heavy water.  It was a BIG fish.  A couple minutes into the fight the tension remained the same, but there was a sudden stop in movement.  My heart sank.  This wiley creature swam my trailing fly right into a large rock.  A couple more head shakes and then nothing.  I was heartbroken.  He stuck the fly well enough that I ended up breaking it off, which takes some doing with 14lb line.

Lesson #1:  Know the pros and cons of a trailing fly.  They can considerably increase catch rates, but also increase the snag-potential.  Bottom line: If fish are going for the lead fly, take off the trailer.

With the wind taken from my sails I followed Shane over to a diversion channel.  I picked up another healthy fish there, but was still brooding over the lost fish.  We decided to fish the hole back through to pick up the canoe and keep going.  I followed behind Shane again and worked the water methodically.  I placed one cast deep into some rolling water and few strips in I had such an aggressive take that my brand new BVK snapped!  It must have had a weak spot or something because it was in a weird spot about 3/4 the way up the rod.  I fumbled the 20+ inch brown in as best I could.  About three feet from my grasp the beast of a brown shook free and was gone.  I was livid.  The second potential two foot fish of the day slipped through my fingers and I was left with a busted setup.  If I were a cursing man my words would have been colorful to say the least.  After slapping the water repeatedly with the destroyed rod, and yelling indecipherable words, I decided to head back to the canoe and have a sit.

Lesson #2:  Always carry an extra rod.  A long float can quickly turn into an I'll-row-the-boat-and-work-on-my-tan kind of trip.

I had brought my 3wt for chucking hoppers, but it was useless with the heavy artillery.  Fortunately Shane had brought his 5wt for the same purpose as my 3.  He was kind enough to take his 5wt and let me use his 8 for the rest of the float.  It may be that he was nervous that I would break his nicer rod, but it was swell of him nonetheless.  

After re-rigging the rods to the preferred streamers we began working our way down stream, looking for a good spot to stop for lunch.   We kept casting as the water still looked good.  Shane had a couple bumps so we worked the hole a bit more.  Swinging was making all the difference and seemed to produce more fish on the entire trip than anything else.  Shooting a long cast out there with a heavy mend, I let the line swing down and set into my third 20+ fish for the day.  The fish used the current and took a lot of line.  Shane headed down stream with the net to help me out.  After a good fight the fish was coming into some shallow water.  Shane went for it, worried that the shallow water would get the trailer stuck.  He had the fish in the net for a millisecond, but some things aren't meant to be.  A moment later and the fish was gone.  If I were a baseball player, that would have been strike three!  At this point I seriously considered giving up for the day (I can't recall the last time I felt that way while fishing.  In fact I don't think I ever have).  It was so painful losing such good fish in such a short period of time.

Lesson #3:  When possible, carry a large net.  There isn't any reason we couldn't carry a long handled, large net in the canoe. 

A bit further down stream there was a large rock that Shane had done well by previously, so we headed there.  On one of his first few swings, Shane set into a great fish.

Believe it or not, on his very next cast out into the same run Shane set into another fish.  This second fish tore into the air and was another 20+ fish.  We must have had some bad juju because just seconds into the fight the fish shook loose!  Bogus.  I walked down river and Shane kept fishing the run.  He picked up another 16ish incher, and then we set sail once more.

It was midday and warm by now.  Hoppers were coming out, so I picked up the 3wt and started throwing at the banks.  There were some fun takes on it and surprisingly decent fish too.

Fishing slowed down considerably on the second half of the float.  We still picked up fish here and there, but not as frequently.  We spent most of the day fishing streamers, interspersed with a dry fly here and there.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful, because it still was an awesome day fishing.  There were just a few lessons that needed to be learned the hard way.  Shane was kind enough to put up with my grumbling.  

A few other lessons learned this outing...

Lesson #4: Always check your camera batteries.  Both of our cameras were out of batteries from the get-go.  We managed to eek out some pictures by shooting a quick pic after the camera turned on, just before it shut itself off.

Lesson #5:  Make sure you're protected from the sun everywhere.  My knees were fried!  I'll be investing in a good set of quick-drying wading pants this coming week.

Lesson #6:  Gauge the distance you are floating by the amount of time you want to fish certain areas.  A lot of the second part of the day was spent rowing to simply reach the end of the float before dark.  If we had floated a shorter stretch, we could have fished longer in the areas that were more productive.

Lesson #7:  Enjoy the whole experience.  Learn to laugh when things go wrong, and still have a good time.

Did you get your learn on?  I sure did.

Business & Pleasure

Butte, Montana.  When I found out that this was to be the home base for a week long work trip my mind automatically moved to the location's fishing potential.  Then my fingers quickly navigated through the world wide web to find possibilities.  Friends, acquaintances, and people I didn't even know volunteered information.  Ivan from over at YGF was particularly helpful.  Thanks again to all who helped.  Fishing new waters is always daunting, especially when you have no foundation to start from for a particular area. 


The Big Hole River

Late Wednesday afternoon I rolled into town at the trusty Super 8.  The next few days I wasn't sure how much time I would have to get out and fish so I refrained from getting a license until my day off.  I should have picked one up right away because I could have fished all but one day, at least in the evenings. 

Half way through the work trip my day off finally arrived.  I should have been on the water just as dawn approached but I was too lazy to get out of bed!  It wasn't until 11am that I started to pull my things together.  I picked up some food, a four day license, and then made my way to the Big Hole River.

I put on my boots, buff, lanyard, and then rigged up my 8wt BVK.  I put on a mini black streamer, feeling maybe a bit overconfident considering the fact that is was a very hot, sunny day.  I started to hoof it upriver to get a ways away from the bridge and the more fished water.  I thought I was strong but when the first good riffle came into view, my constitution weakened and the next thing I knew my fly was splashing on the water.  Right away a decent fish chased!  This was a good sign, and may have unduly padded the overconfidence.  After a while had passed with no more chases or bumps I decided to tie on a hot wired hares ear dropper and began to run the streamer through runs as more of a nymph.  This produced a couple hooked fish, but they quickly came off. 

A thunderstorm began rolling in, and lightening scares the bejeebers out of me, so I began working back down river following another fork that led to another bridge.  By now I had succumbed to the realization that nymphing would be the ticket for this afternoon.  The water was WARM.   I traded my streamer for a tandem nymph rig and right away picked up this little beaut of a brown.  It was my first ever landed Montana fish, caught on the fly.

The Big Hole river is a beautiful river with weaving braided sections and an upper rocky canyon.  It reminds me of the Falls River in Idaho, only it has brown trout and grayling too. 

I kept working my way down to the other bridge.  Fortunately the thunder storm rolled by without incident.  One thing about this river, and it is something I tend to forget about fishing in general, is that the holding water can be anywhere.  Shallow water can hold big fish!  One particular shallow but fishy looking run taught me this lesson once more.  I casted up stream and after a short float my hoppicator shot under.  I set the hook and ZING!  The fish took off and fought hard enough for me to think it was foul hooked.  I was shocked to see just how respectable this brown was.  My love for Montana fishing was galvanized... that didn't take long.

I made it back to the bridge without touching another fish and hoofed it back to the truck with the intention of heading up into the canyon.  I wanted to find cooler water.  It was hard to keep driving along the river as I saw a lot of potentially fishy water but I persevered and headed to the suggested location. 

Once there I decided to tie on a heavily weighted leech/stone variation that my good friend Shane had introduced me too.  I put on the same hot-wire hares ear nymph to trail it.  From here on out it was all about the swing.  It's a bit of a trick to get the feel of a successful swing, but when you can the rewards are great.  Cast upstream, get your flies down low, keep sensitivity tension, and then let her swing.  The real trick is keeping the sensitivity tension while the line comes downstream to you, and then keeping your bugs on the bottom for the swing.  You gotta love when you make a good cast and KNOW it is a good cast.  Nine out of ten times you can expect the BAM!  This particular method allows you to fish the water that most other fisherman pass up.  The water that is faster, more choppy, produces more oxygen, and as a result holds fish.  Don't pass it, or you will miss out.  Learn to feel the tension and swing through the zone and you will be pleasantly rewarded.

I made some friends on the river.  This little guy blended right in with the rocks.  He was having his dinner whilst enjoying the show.

The evening rolled around and a tough decision presented itself, streamers or dries.  Fish were rolling all over.  I hightailed it back to the truck, rigged up the 3wt with a caddis and rusty spinner, and made my way back to the river with two rods in hand.  It was a good decision.  Fish after fish plucked the rusty spinner from the surface.  Most were feisty bows that rarely reached the 12 inch mark.  After I had my fill of catching on dries and the light was too low to detect takes I broke out the big guns again.  Two casts in with the large black streamer and the line was hammered.  This 14-15 incher fought great and was beautiful!  The dark made it difficult to catch how pretty this fish was.  After that I decided to head out.  Throwing articulated setups in the dark can be pretty freaky, especially without protective glasses.  

The Boulder River

The next day I was routed to Helena and I thought I might have time in the evening to hit up the Boulder River on my way back to Butte.  The fates aligned and I found myself parked beside a beautiful stream-like river littered with large stones and boulders.  It was full of willing little bows and an occasional brookie.  Give me a 3wt rod, dry fly, and gorgeous river like this and I am a happy man.

This guy was an odd greenish yellow and had huge eyes.  I'll chalk it up to the local mining. 

I wish I could have gotten a better picture of this brookie.  It was beautiful, but it was dark by this time and it was a wiggly bugger.

The Big Hole River Part II

The next day I was routed in Butte and found myself done around 6pm.  The Big Hole River was calling my name so I hustled back to the hotel to grab my gear.  I was on the water about 7:30pm.  This time I made sure I had bug spray. (My first trip I was eaten alive.  It was a kind of mosquito acupuncture!)  I re-rigged both the 3wt and 8wt.  This time I put on a larger black streamer, hoping for a hungry brown.  The nymphing water was a bit of a walk and time was short so I threw the 3wt for a bit just waiting for the magic hour.  During the wait I picked up a couple spunky dinks.  Right as the sun started to go down I busted out the meat.  Second cast in I let the articulated offering sink down a bit, followed by a slow and steady retrieve.  The third strip in the fly was hammered.  It was a beautiful healthy brown.  Right after the hook-set I'm sure the residents living close by were unnerved by my victory howl.  No more takers came on the streamer so I went back to the dries for some more little guys.  It was another great Montana evening.

The next day I hit the Boulder River for about 45 minutes, on my way back to the hotel.  The only reason I did not fish longer is that I was in a hurry to get back home to my family and had planned on driving back to Idaho that evening.

Montana has some beautiful water and I only saw the very tip of the iceberg.  There may be another trip up there in a week, and if there is you can be assured I'll be mixing business with pleasure.

Class is in session...

School started back up yesterday.  I thought I would visit some old haunts and give the 3wt some exercise.  She doesn't like it when I don't take her out for long periods at a time.  I think I managed to get back on her good side though.

There are plenty of surprises to be had whilst fishing.  Here is one I did not expect from the Henry's Fork.  I must say it made my "fishing" day.

Love me some brookies.

These fish were healthy.  This guy was a chunk.

I am learning that it is folly to underestimate the drive fish have to spawn.  They will travel quite a ways just to find the area they once knew as a little minnow.

A quick chop job with a different location.



Some pics of the event.  I'm still trying to decide whether or not these cuts are in fact residents, or just seasonal visitors.

 And just like me, he went back to his school.