Month: December 2022

We are coming up on the halfway point of the off-season for us guides. The winter has been pretty chill so far. I spent a good chunk of the start of the winter in Michigan, which helped get me through the first part, which can be the toughest. The body and mind want to keep going, but mother nature says otherwise. It’s takes a while to come down from the season and rest and settle. Traveling makes that process easier. Also, sharing the offseason and living the trout bum life through the offseason has been something I’ve always wanted.

The business takes care of itself, and finally, post covid is allowing me to live close to the way I want. Less stress, slightly financially comfortable for once, and a 2023 season filling up with trips before it even starts. For once… being content…its nice. Takes some getting to used to…my generation has issues when things get comfy…we aren’t sure how to operate.

December brings about the midpoint of the offseason. The offseason shuffle. We hit the winter solstice this week, and slowly but surely, the sun starts to shine longer each day as we move towards the thaw. January will bring more snows, thick ones, and it will get cold. But then it breaks in mid Febraury and gives us a taste before the river takes its time waking up throughout March.

With no pressure to work prior to March this coming year, I get to ramble into the trout season at my pace. I don’t know if it’s how long I’ve been doing this, or if it’s my age, or just how this winter is going, but this offseason has been one I’ve looked forward to and now that we creep up to the downhill side of it things start to change.

The first thing I notice is the sun. It starts to wake up earlier, and my body starts to reset its internal clock to match. The days start to get longer, and as someone who spends 80 percent of their time outdoors, you feel it. As we get through January, the itch to get out increases. The days have a other hour to them by then. When February hits, the sunny, warm days are usually fished. If it gets close to 50 degrees, it’s fishy in February. As a guide, I have to perform and produce when guiding starts. So, I typically spend February prepping for the season. Get the chops back up. I haven’t touched a boat in 3 months by February. So, each week, wading and rowing are important no matter the fishing just to get back into shape for the year. If you don’t, the chances of hurting yourself in March are much higher.

Spending 10 to 15 February days on the river gets you ready. Fishing in the cold works the winter insulation off the body, gets the muscles fired up and working slowly. I get familiar with the boat, work, out any kinks or maintenance issues, give myself time to check gear, establish what needs replaced, and tuned up. All part of guide work.

I also get a chance to feel out the river. She tells you a lot as she’s waking up. I feel out when bugs hatch, I’m able to determine fish movements, water temps start to change, food starts to move, fish start thinking about spawning. All these things start to show themselves and give me a picture of what the river is going to do as we move into the spring. When you pair those 15 days, with a handful of years of experience, watching the snowpack, 10 to 3 month weather forecasts, air temps, river flow, and barometric pressure predictions, and you can get an idea of what goes into guiding and how I prep for the season.

As the winter subsides, the brain wants to be in that space again, constantly troubleshooting and prorblem solving. By February, I’ve had a long enough mental break. I want to be moving again, both physically and mentally. The cabin fever and sitting still, 4 walls, feeling trapped, it’s ran its course, and it’s time to get back into the guide life.

The holidays approach, and I take a little break from the social media stuff. I tie through the next 5 to 6 weeks. I’m doing holiday stuff. I even have a trout bum Christmas tree. My kids will be here for New Years. I’m planning a trip to Florida in January or February prior to the season starting. Not a bad offseason anglers.

With March and April dates filling up quicker than any previous year, I’m stoked to get to the 2023 season. I’ve got a goal to book 75 to 100 trips before the end of April. Fill out the schedule. I know there’s enough after doing so many last year. I love spring fishing more and more each year. It’s less crowded, and it’s consistent fishing compared to summer. There are big trout all colored up from the cold water and the spawn coming. There’s BWO and March Brown dry fly headhunting, and aggressive streamer takes. Plus skwallas.

As December rolls through, I wish all of you a Happy Holidays. Thank you to everyone who continues to support your local trout bum guide. Enjoy time with loved ones and those you hold close and dear. Be kind to one another. I’ll see you riverside after the thaw anglers.

Tamarack

The guide life is fast-paced. At least the way I do it. I live almost every day on the water. From February to October. And eventually, during the off months, too. There is little time for much else during the season besides guiding. All that guiding encompasses the physical work, the mental work, the patience, the driving, the lack of sleep, the grind a guide goes through to perform, produce, and entertain. It’s a lot, it’s fast, it’s constantly changing, and leaves little room for much else when it’s guide season.

The off-season becomes important for that slow down of things. The waking up late and sleeping 10 hrs a day. The lack of movement, there’s a lot of nothing that goes on. During the season, I’m never sitting still. Always moving doing something. I take my time in the mornings and evenings, enjoying the actual time I have to just settle, hover, and enjoy it. I don’t get that during the guide season. Things get done at a lieusure pace in the off-season. I worked hard to be able to enjoy 8 weeks of things moving a little slower.

It’s important to rest the body, which I am still feeling little tweaks and strains from physically. And I do. But also resting the brain. It’s a lot to dial in trout, teaching, coaching, setting lines, rowing, managing, talking, observing, and all that fun stuff. So, resting the brain is necessary. It’s also a time to reflect on the business, see where it can improve, change things, expand, and think about different ways of sharing fishing through guiding. It’s a time to think creatively and get outside the box to keep things fresh and growing.

The off-season is also a time for me. I get to fish a lot, but I give my all to guiding, so this time of year, I take time for stuff I like. I still play a decent amount of video games, I tie flies for work and pleasure, do some reading, Netflix, and chill. It looks like a whole lot of nothing from the outside, but there’s more going on during the off-season than it appears. And I work. I’m a small business owner. I work most days for a few hrs. It’s not near as much during guide season, but this winter has been busier than usual. I’ve never had 30 days booked this early. And I live off of guiding and selling flies. I don’t do other work. This is it. Full time career choice. So it’s nice that the hard work is paying off and allowing me to live the lifestyle I set out for. The off-season has given me time to think on that part of guiding.

The slow down, the quiet, the chill. That’s the offseason for me. It’s not always easy, and sometimes others think I’m aloof, don’t care, or am lazy. But it’s not that. It’s just the time I get for me, and I take it seriously.

Skwalla Special Dates are booking up! $375 5hr 2 people float trips for March.

April dates are filling up, too, for those juicy March Brown Mayfly days. I’m only booking 150 guide trips on the Yakima this season. I’ll be gone May and June during high water.

There’s a plug for work stuff. We will also have new wading options and clinics this season!

Till next time anglers.

Tamarack

The desire to explore, to discover, to experience. A very important piece of what makes us human…our ability to wonder. To be curious. Our travels take some of us to water. Water is an integral part of what makes us human. It’s necessity, its ability to bring us peace, sustinence, strike fear, bring forth industry, be tamed to an extent, water is filled with wonder and connects us all.

Water. In a river. A river that flows from high mountain tops. Trees like a think blanket abide here, with just the stone faces of the mountains peeking from their evergreen slumber. Small waterfalls and brooks feed the start of our river. A small tarn seeps nearby, the bugs buzzing above its glassy surface. Boulders break up the river as it cascades down the mountainsides, the tree roots gripping and grasping along its banks. The river is fast, a torrent in places, angrily pummeling the rocks, the stones stoic, and steadfast as they bathe in the cold mountain water.

A cacophony of current, rapids, riffles, and swirls, with the sounds of insects humming, birds singing, a deer snaps a twig as it walks through the brambles along the bank. The river singing, breathing, hosting life in all directions, with everything it touches. It connects us all. A muskrat builds a small dam, fish frolic, and dance among the bubbles as the river carves its path downward and forward. An otter peeks its head, an Osprey chirps from its perch. It is not quiet, but the sounds of man absent. The sun warms the woods, the forest smelling of pine pollen, sap, warm dirt, and that distinct smell of a river rolling through.

The temperature of the air is cool along the corridor through the forest the river creates. The heavy conifer branches create a canopy the sun just breaks through, the rocks along the river cold holding onto the early morning, wet with dew, as if perspiring away the morning hours. An elk passes through the current on its way from one ridge to another. Drinking lightly from the water before cautiously walking into the woods. A squirrel chatters, a fish jumps for an insect, the river continues on.

Our river slows and widens, and a small, sleepy town sits along its banks. A valley forms, food is grown, as are animals, water feeding the town as it meanders now, grass thick like animal fur along its edges. Cotton woods hold tight and give the river shade from the warm sun. Beavers swim and tinker away at dams, fish abound, and the river grows. Another river joins ours further from the sleepy little town. The river spands the valley in places, wide and shallow, with riffles between sweeping bends. The water slows more as we meet a small man-made dam. Drawing resources from the river to feed industry. A lake forms, we see boats, people playing and enjoying the river.

The river continues on flowing from the dam into a canyon. Sheer walls of red stone hold the river in place. Slow and deep, the river rolls onward. Bighorn sheep looking on and down at the river from the steep walls they call home. An eagle laments as it is spooked from its perch by the sound of a car driving by. A road follows our river, above the canyon, looking out at a vast valley. The river and road twisting and turning in unison as they streak across the landscape. Eventually, our river is alone again on its journey. Flowing through shrub and sage land. It meets fellow larger rivers and joins in a journey oceanward. Breathing, flowing, giving, and changing as it moves further towards its end.

We all have a river. That river. Our river. Mine looks like this when I think about it. Each of us has our ideal water that brings us that sense of connection. Something that fills us. I have bore witness to many types of water. Our ideal water can change as we discover, explore, and seek out experiences and connections through water. When rivers are running cold, with ice and snow, fish sleeping, and the life a body of water brings; the song a river sings are more subdued. Muffled by the winters embrace. Think of your ideal water. Imagine new things to discover and explore. Seek out adventure and new experiences to chase when the thaw comes.

Tamarack