Author: tamaracksguideservice

The Spring comes on slow here in the mountains.  The headwaters of the Yakima River slowly wake, with fits of runoff that redistribute silt, gravel, and nutrients throughout the river.  Already the Canadian Geese are about the riverbanks finding mates, making nests, and laying eggs.  Getting rather protective, so watch your step.  The Eagles frequent the budding trees, the smell of new growth in the thickets and forests greets me every morning I find myself riverside.  While clients gear up and chat about the basketball game or how work was last week, I take deep breaths through my nose, losing myself in the smell of spring, and the sound of running water at my feet.

The spring brings about big fish.  Which is the hope most anglers have when I shake their hands in the morning.  I make it a point to enjoy the little things that some people miss while riverside.  I do my best to point them out, but I find myself selfishly reveling in them while others are so focused on trout.  The trout will come…I become distracted with the life around me, the sounds and breaths that river life has.  The angler in me gets the better of me.

The things that steal my attention: The dance of two male geese fighting over a mate, the pairs of Merganser Ducks gliding together, otters bobbing among the current, a beaver carcass ravaged by raptors.  The sound the river makes when a fish rises and everyone’s breath leaves them, the force of the current reverberating through my oars and into my bones.  The speed of the rapids, the soft edges of the eddy, the deep emerald water of spring time, the infrequent but glorious wild trout.

I need to fish.  I need to pick apart riffle and run, to feel bend and head shake.  I need my patience and skill tested to frustration, only to be rewarded with wild and awesome trout.  I yearn for that connection, to feel the power of my quarry against my arm, to feel the trout calm before the release, the cold water…shocking to me, but embracing to the trout…that touch of wild, that disconnect from the human and that plug in to the primordial.  Where the sounds and worries of the life off river are paused for a moment and all that envelops my world is the one I am standing in…the river and the place of wild animals lurking in the depths.

My job is to introduce people to this world, or to reconnect them.  But connection through association is not the same and watching is not the same as doing.  Trout…and I…need time to ourselves.  I hope to see you out there…I’ll be lost in that world tomorrow.

 

Tamarack

Just a quick little shout out!

The Skwallas are here. And fish are starting to look up. Got a nice fat cutty on the dry this afternoon during todays trip. 

So…the river is on the drop, the bugs are a poppin’, and my big ‘ol Hog Island drift boat is a rocking…time to chase trout my friends…bring a rain jacket…it’s moist out there. 

Skallwa Holla!!

Tamarack

The start of the season is always an anxious time for me.  I am more than ready to get out on the river and live on its schedule again.  This winter was long, filled with snow, and ridiculously cold.  I wake with the sun, the days are longer, the birds are here, things are thawing out…I’m ready.  But I’m not in a hurry.  The spring has come in slow.  Taking its time.  Testing the patience of anglers.

I’ve been out a few days the past few weeks.  After a few days on river I realized that things just weren’t ready yet.  Yes we caught fish, but spending an entire day on the river for a few hours of prime fishing time where you have to pester trout with nymphs and worms just isn’t my style.  The fish are just now moving onto a more regular feeding cycle.  Water temps and air temps have moved above 40 and the river is starting to wake up.  Now…I am excited to chase trout.

The winter is a time when fish and anglers take a break.  I fish a handful of days between November and February.  Mostly to keep the shack nasty at bay.  But this is also a time trout get to recharge in peace so I try not to mess with them.  As Spring approaches anglers and guides start hitting the river en mass on the warm ‘good’ days.  Already access roads in the upper are rutted with eager anglers.  I’ve kept myself out of the upper river for two main reasons this spring.  Access isn’t great, and I’m not about to damage the only few access points available to me by mucking them up so they have to be closed for repairs later…(and we all know how repairs on state and public land go around here).  The other and more important reason I haven’t fished the upper…its not ready yet.  The Upper river is always behind the lower in the spring.  We may get summer bugs and mayflies before the Lower as things warm up, but the spring is a slow creep up here.

I want to fish when things are on.  When trout are awake, active…acting all trouty.  When they move about their world doing what they do.  I want to float when the river has a schedule, a routine, that natural order that breaks up a trouts day.  When trout are on a schedule…they are easier to target and to trick.  If you’ve fished the river the past few weeks you probably found good fishing between noon and 3.  Pretty standard. You probably also found pods of fish staged is slow froggy water feeding on nymphs and worms.  Pretty standard.  But that’s all we’ve really had the past few weeks.  A small window of fish being somewhat active in that winter staging water.  For me…as an angler…and a guide…that type of fishing is pretty…meh.  I’ve fished this river a lot over the years and I am able to sequester that call of the river when trout are still on their winter routine.

But now…when the overnight lows are above freezing consistently, the water temps stay above 40, and the fish are displaced by swelling and falling flows due to the melt and runoff of spring.  Trout move, they are forced about the river by flows, they begin to feed because they are expelling energy, spawning becomes their focus.  And suddenly…the river, the trout, the insects, the birds, all the faun and foliage begin to wake up.  I can feel the change happening.  The air is lighter, the sun brighter, there is a warm sweet scent to the river.  The damp underbrush and thickets come alive with little buds and birds.  It’s as if everything, including me, is able to breath.  As if I am awake now too.

That call from the river can no longer be muffled, its overwhelmingly loud.  A constant roar in my head that beckons me.  Like a class 4 rapid in the background.  When I sleep I hear the river, when I dream it is of feeding lanes, water to read, and the feel of a wild trout leaving my hands back into that world that calls to me.  My patience and anticipation for this period comes from a place of experience and respect.  I do not eagerly await the trout season so that I can guide.  I do not chase trout for money.  Yes I pay my bills and support my family from guiding…but I am an angler first.  And over the past several years I have learned much about the world of trout.  I fish with a purpose, with a plan, a method.  I don’t hit the river just to hang out, and spend the day deciding which bar to hit when the float is over.  I fish because I would be lost without it.

Interacting with the river and trout is a part of me.  Something  I need.  Guiding is just facilitating that need for others; and a logical decision for someone who desires to live on the river most of the year.  The energy that presents itself when I fish whether guiding or angling myself…is organic, natural, and I rarely filter it for people.  I warn my clients that I can get excited for fish.  I always make my trips about clients, the day they want, and sometimes those days aren’t on the same energy level as a personal day for me, I am facilitating other people’s river time…but I always get excited about trout.  Otherwise what is the point?  That excitement comes from the anticipation that I feel each day when the trout are on that routine and we get to be a part of it.  As a guide I revel in my ability to decipher and read the river.  It’s the juiciest part of the day for me.  My jam.  That groovy goodness when the boat, guide, and anglers are all syncopated with the river and the wild trout that we chase.  I have become that type of angler and guide because of experience, and the respect that has developed over the course of that experience.

As a guide I am a steward for the river.  On the front lines, a first responder so to speak.  My patience at the beginning of the season, the method to how I approach the river and the trout, all have the best interests of the trout first.  I always attempt to float different stretches, or fish them differently if I am fishing the same section multiple days.  I stay away from the spawning trout up high in the spring.  I only book so many trips to make sure I don’t over do it in the spring, and am able to be flexible with inconsistent river conditions.  I work hard in the prime season so make sure I am not dependent on the income from the first few trips of the spring.  I fish and guide with that respect for the resource and the wild critters that call it home.  I plan to guide for a long time and I want the river and trout to be well looked after during my time with them.   Be an example to my children, to my clients, to the other anglers that frequent my text messages, emails, Instagram posts, and river time.

I used to be one of those crazy guys, fishing every day, throwing my hard boat over guard rails, bombing down snow locked roads, using tow straps and guide ingenuity to get in and out of the river before everyone else.  Just for a chance at a trout or two.  Now I know to wait…patiently, and prep.  You can’t force fly fishing.  It is fluid.  From the cast, to the way a fly is tied, to how the river moves, and the trout react….it is all fluid and filled with intricacy and finesse.  The wait also makes the days to come that much sweeter.

Trout are a finicky critter, and I gave up on conquering them a long time ago.  I strive to be a part of that world on my days of fishing.  To become a part of the routine of the river.  When the fish move, when the bugs migrate, when the hatches come off, the lies that hold trout from one time of the season to another, I know when and where.  It is a constant part of my life that keeps me busy from February to October.  The never ending fine tuning of the skills to read and seek out wild trout are fascinating and intoxicating to me.  The ability to interpret everything from the river, the bugs, the trout and make sense of it and be able to translate it for others is a skill that can set an angler or guide apart from others.  Coming back to guiding the past 2 years has shown me that my time learning all that I have, was not wasted.  It does set me apart as a guide and angler.  It has taught me that a guide or fishing days’ success is not wholly based on how many trout came to the net.  The past two years back at guiding and especially last season have also shown me that the majority of clients just want to learn those interpretation skills and will come back again and again to learn and to have me take the brunt of the work of plugging people into that river routine.

The spring is here.  My stoke is at its highest level.  My patience is waning as the snow melts.  The river is moving back onto its spring routine and so am I.  The season is here, and I for one am done hibernating…its time to chase trout.

 

Tamarack

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flood Advisory in effect, reports of flooding already coming in. It’s raining off and on pretty hard. And the LC doubled its cfs overnight. It’s here!  

The upper stretches are starting to swell as the small creeks and tribs start their annual thaw. Spring has come to the river. We have overnight lows above freezing, warm days, rain and wind. Awww ya!
The river flow forecast calls for typical runnoff conditions with large swells and dips in cfs. Once the upper small creeks above the Teanaway melt out, which is relatively quick, the upper river will be in shape for the spring. I’ll be floating it this next week. I’ll be doing a riverside run report tomorrow and I’ll check the Teanaway. But the Teanaway rose just over 200cfs last night and I expect that to increase dramatically over the next 7-10 days. Last year we saw nearly 10,000 cfs come out of the Teanaway…there’s more snow this time of year than last. Snotel sites report 104% for the upper basin and 106% of average for the lower. We’ve got snow to melt. 
The river is gonna get funky, and then it’s gonna get wicked fun. Bugs will be poppin’ fish will be slurping’, and we’ll be chasing ’em!  
Here we go! Trout Yo Self 2017!

Quick update, I know it’s been a while everyone. But spring is finally coming to the river. It’s been a long cold and snow filled winter but it’s finally coming to an end. 

The upper river is still 7-10 days out with the current state of access points. But the LC and Farmlands are open and with the forecast this next week the melt should really ramp up, and so should the fishing. Overnight lows are still on the mid to high 20’s for 10 more days but daytime highs are upper 40’s. So it’s starting. 

Fishing will start to pick up over the next 10 days and I expect us to be in full swing by the.  BWO’s and Skwallas should be popping in the lower river by then. 

So now is the time to start looking at possible dates. Runoff will be a major factor this season so make sure you call ahead and get a condition report. I’ll be posting them daily on the FB and Instagram feeds and try and throw up reports here every few days. 

Skwalla Special is running through the month and into April so get in on some spring fishing at a good price. 

It’s the 2017 Trout Season…Let’s go chase ’em. 
Tamarack

The morning is crisp.  Winter’s grasp still lingers on the evenings.  The river is soft with her speech, a low heavy mist all but silences her.  A whisper…

I have not felt her embrace in months.  The days have become longer.  The sun’s angle has changed, the alpenglow from atop the snow covered mountains gives me respite.  An eagle swoops through the barren tree limbs silently…on the hunt for the mornings prey.

The snow crunches under my worn felt, caking along the bottom with every few steps.  My breath heavy from the long walk along the river bank.  I hear an otter chatter breaking the softness of the ever increasing morning light.

My hands are cold. My joints stiff.  The cork feels slightly foreign in my hand, but the worn spot near the hilt where my thumb rests is so familiar.  I rub the cork insistently, my anticipation peaked.  Months worth of a cold snow filled winter have only stoked the fire and drive to chase wild trout in the waters of my beloved homewater.

~The longing to embrace the wildness of that world has been at the forefront of my every thought of late.  The trout I chase in my dreams are all out of reach.  The freedom of the wild and raw nature of trout is what pulls me towards the river.  It echoes through the mountains and forests that surround me, it blasts through the sound of the rail cars that pass by every day.  It silences all that surrounds me with its enticing call.  My siren, or muse.  Bordering on obsession, my passion for what chasing wild trout with fly and rod gives me is sometimes beyond explanation.  Only known to those that share in the same blessing…or curse…of understanding that connection and freedom…becoming involved with the river and trout that live within.~

My body aches against the cold.  The rod feels heavy in my hand as I sling it through the air.  It takes a few casts before everything settles into that familiar rhythm.  Oh that rhythm.  The pull of the line as it loads the rod, the vibration of the pause that ricochets through my arm, instinctively bringing the rod forward.  I hear the line in the air, a sharp slice as it cuts through the mist.  A slight grinding sound as the line runs through an eyelet with ice forming.  The fly landing softly, delicately along the seam below a boulder.  The small puff of CDC feather my only indication of where the fly rides.  The dorsal fin of a large trout rising a few feet below the fly.  The world stops.  My lungs feel like they will burst as I’ve held my breath for the entire drift.  The fly passes over…I breath.

The next cast places the fly along a better drift.  My thumb tapping the cork as the drift comes together on target.  Everything around me fades away.  The sound of the river drowns out the world.  There is a slight dimple and I lose the fly.  I raise the rod soft, but quickly.  My heart shakes my body with a thump as I feel the ferocious shake of a wintered wild trout prepared to battle.  The trout is smart, large, well versed in the dance that is unfolding.  The deep pull and bend in the rod against the animal brings a smile to my face.  There it is…the call answered.  What I have been seeking, longing for.  Ended all to short…as the trout gains leverage and fights its way to freedom before I can greet it with a proper handshake.  I tip my hat.  A proper welcoming from my homewater on such a glorious spring morning.  There are more trouts to chase.  Another rises just out of reach.  So I reel in my line, check the fly…and answer the call.

 

Tamrack

So…the snowpocalypse has subsided. It’s still snowing here in Cle Elum and we have roughly 18 new inches of snow over the last 36 hours. The snowpack data isn’t in yet but my guess is we’re are close if not over our 100% annual average. 

 

This means a few things for the upcoming season. This snow has to melt and go somewhere. That means the lower river is going to be a runoff mess for a lot of the spring. I expect 10,000 plus cfs to come out of the Teanaway this season. Flooding will happen this year. And Ringer Access in the LC is going to more than likely be out of commission for the better part of the year.   
This means that spring fishing will be all about hitting the sweet spots. When the weather and runoff align and give Anglers a handful of days every other week where the fishing is stellar. I will communicate those windows accordingly as the season starts. If you want to fish the spring it might be a year where its a last minute call saying “The river is perfect who wants to go!?” So be ready for that. 
I will post daily reports as we get rolling here in the next week to 10 days. We have 35 degrees in the forecast later this week…with rain…so it’s gonna get wicked messy out there over the next 2 weeks. Cle Elum has a few feet of snow on the ground and I expect it to still be here through March. As access points become open I’ll let people know. Also keep in mind that the upper river may have a lot of new deadfall and debris in it this season due to the super cold temps, heavy snows, and flooding. So make sure you check to make sure floats are clear before you hit a stretch of river. 
There’s a lot of ice that still has to make it’s way down and I suspect that this warmer weather this weekend will make for some crazy ice jams. We are still 2 weeks out it looks like before things start. So…tie up those flies, go ski, sled, snowshoe, and/or snowmobile…because winter ain’t over just yet. 
That being said…I am going to ski down to the river tomorrow and sling a few streamers. Mostly just to see the river with all this snow before its gone.

Climate Change is real.  I will not debate that with anyone.  If you can’t acknowledge its existence and its threat to future generations I don’t have a lot of patience for you.  It is personally the single most important issue for me.  I work in the outdoors.  I depend on cold clean water for my work, and I want my children to have a planet that is better than it is now.  Now…moving on.

It’s F’ing hot.  The summers are hotter and longer, and the winters are shorter but more intense.  Every few years we have a bad winter, and every few years we have a bad summer.  2015 was a shit year for water and anyone who depended on it for their livelihood, which is all of us…so ya.  Areas of our homewater heated to lethal degrees for aquatic life.  Small creeks and tributary streams dried up.  We lost fish, we lost invertebrates, damage we are still seeing today.  Everywhere you look there are no solutions.  Just deniers, more questions, and no movement on the issue.

As a young voter this is frustrating because the effects of climate change are alarming.  As a fly fishing guide the issue is a concern, as a father, an outdoorsmen, it is a core value to me…the environment.  Maybe it is because I live in the pacific northwest and I am able to see its effects first hand.  Rampant wildfires, low snow packs, hotter dryer summers, absurdly cold winters.  All the signs are there for even those that don’t understand basic science.  We are part of the problem and I want us to be part of the solution.  Now I’m not about to get into my opinions on how we should combat it on a national or even global level…but ya know…stop burning fossil fuels…and maybe something might change.  When I started delving into the issue back in college I found that there was no real solution.  The policy changes needed on a national level were to hard to put through due to the stranglehold of the oil industry on our economy, but there wasn’t a lot going on on a local levels because of lack of funding.  We were still learning about climate change and its effects while I was in school.  I remember it being a hot topic of discussion in many a science class.  I didn’t get a degree in science or anything, I just found sciency stuff intriguing and enjoyed getting easy A’s.  I’ve got an IT and Management degree and I am a fly fishing guide so figure that one out.

Being scientifically inclined, I began thinking about how a global problem could actually be fixed.  Especially when every one is talking doomsday scenarios instead of how to fix shit.  Early on in my fishing I began seeing the effects of climate change.  Those big ass cutthroat in the Teanaway aren’t there anymore for a reason.  As well as the bulltrout.  Years ago there weren’t as many organizations working in the field of conservation, but as climate change and its effects have become more of a problem, more organizations have popped up to facilitate a solution.  There are multiple conservation groups and their work is on the front lines of climate change.  If you dig science and seeing how the environment is all connected together man…hang out with some river conservationists.

Recently we’ve had the Paris Agreements, countries have made commitments to less fossil fuels and more renewable energy methods, just this past week Ireland began the process of divesting from all fossil fuel companies and turning to renewable resources.  That global change is coming.  I will see it in my lifetime.  But more needs to be done.  Recycling, reducing your personal and families carbon footprint, all these things help.  But more needs to be done.  So much damage has been done that we have to step out of the menial tasks of separating plastics and glass out, more than just conserving water.  We have to save things.  Go out of our way to make a contribution.  Hundreds of years of take and take, and more so than ever in the past 50 years, we can no longer just sit idle and wait it out.  Its time to give back.  If we want it to get fixed.

This works two fold.  One, we are giving more back to our home, the planet, gotta balance it all out, and two we are cultivating a culture of being mindful of our environment.  I see the lack of this culture all the time in the wild and public lands I visit and use to work.  Trash left…everywhere, lack of respect for damn near anything, did I mention trash, shotgun shells left, fishing tackle, pop bottles, beer cans, there is always something.  That needs to change.  It changes by teaching our children that littering makes you an asshole.  My kids know it, they call people assholes who litter, and they help their dad clean up after assholes all the time.  But I take it a step further.  I had the opportunity to get involved with one of these organizations that is working on the front lines.  A non profit that works more in depth with cold water conservation and in turn battling Climate Change.

I volunteer with Trout Unlimited.  Like a ridiculous amount of time.  But my job and how I live allows me to be able to do that.  I don’t make a lot of money, nor do I need a lot living small and simple with my family.  This allows me to chase my passions.  One of which is fly fishing and the pursuit of wild trout.  But the second and what has become a deep passion of mine these past few years…is conservation of cold water fisheries.  I am a Trout Unlimited Endorsed Guide which means I spread that message of cold water conservation and support it through my business.

Trout are my climate change barometer.  They let me know how we are doing.  Better than we were a few years ago I can tell you that.  Becoming involved with Trout Unlimited has given me access to all sorts of tools and weapons to use in the fight against climate change.  I get to work with real life scientists…and they are just as nerdy as you would think.  I get to listen to all sorts of experts, sit in on financial meetings that decided the fate of millions of dollars of grant money.   Money that goes towards massive projects that benefit our natural waterways and help alleviate the stress of climate change on our world.  People ask my input, I am able to contribute and develop partnerships with people who are all striving for the same things.  I am part of something.  A movement, one that spends its time in the forests and rivers of our public lands.  I give back more than I take.  A negative footprint.

I am not working on some far away river, this isn’t benefiting some other country, or state, no I am doing this right in my backyard.  Sometimes within a few hundred yards of my apartment.  Other times high in the mountains away from any sense of people.  I get my hands dirty working to better our public lands that I recreate and work in, for others, for my kids, for future generations.  It is incredibly fulfilling. And with everything going on right now in our country, volunteering…is something that will always be held in high regard among your fellow citizens.

“Volunteering is the ultimate exercise in democracy. You vote in elections once a year, but when you volunteer, you vote every day about the kind of community you want to live in”.

When I leave this world I want it to be better for it.  I want my children to not have to worry about a solution to this climate change crisis.  Instead I want them to enjoy their lives knowing that myself and others like me put forth the time and effort to fight climate change for them and set us on a path where we are mindful of the environment and our relationship with it.  Politicians and world leaders can continue to argue and deny facts.  They are of little consequence in the end, as they change every few years anyway.  But we as individuals are each given a set amount of time on this planet.  It is our duty to watch over it and leave it better for the next generation.  Climate Change will not be solved by massive policy changes, or sweeping renewable energy revolutions.  We have to change the way we think about the environment, we have to fight for it, and then safeguard it for generations to come.  It starts in your community, in your local public lands, talked about and discussed in your community meetings and at the coffee shop every morning.  Then you have to get involved in some way.  I battle climate change with conservation and science.  And I’m just a trout bum….What are you doing?

 

Tamarack

 

Trout Bums, Fly Fishermen, Feather Chuckers, Fly Anglers, whatever it is that you may be labeled on your homewater there are always a handful of those peculiar people that are just a little…too involved with it.  Take any western river (but really anywhere anglers chase fish with flies), from the Hoh to the Gallatin, from the Dechutes to the Elk River B.C. you will find those anglers that live that way of life so many of us seek and are envious of.

They come in all forms.  I’ve met many in my travels to trout filled places.  I remember when I was in Steamboat Springs and I was introduced to that Colorado mountain town hospitality at the local guide hang out.  Sunpies if I recall.  Amazing little bar and eatery.  Great sliders, loud and boisterous crowd the night we were there.  I remember talking with a handful of local guides from competing shops.  A thing they laughed off.  They didn’t compete, except how some guides will while riverside of course, but at the end of the day when the trip was over, the client back at the hotel, and the pressure was off, the guides were just colleagues.  Fellow river rats, trout bums united.  I was in Steamboat to pick up my Hog Island Drift Boat in order to chase my own dreams of becoming a guide.  I was ecstatic.  My own driftboat.  Telling these much older and seasoned gentlemen why I was in town was one of the coolest things of the trip.

There was no jesting, no jokes, no newbie bs, there was just a congratulations on a new boat, a welcome to the fold, and a drink bought for me with the days tip money.  A different experience than I was accustomed to on my homewater or in the local bar when the guides came off river.  It humbled me, it made me realize that this business was about people, the stories, and the trout met.  It was a brotherhood of river stewards that put their life’s passion into trout and the rivers where they lived; and the people that enjoy them.

I left Colorado with a new sense of what I was becoming a part of.  I never understood why my homewater had so much tension between those that worked the river.  Granted it was quite a bit worse back then, and worse before I even knew what fly fishing was.  The Yakima is a much different river these days.  It has its moments of testosterone driven stupidity but what activity with a bunch of dudes doesn’t.  But I remember a lot of BS thrown around when I started floating the river in my big hog.  Haters gonna hate.  They hate us cause they ain’t us.   

When I traveled to Montana for the first time the trip turned into an epic failure.  Broke my boat trailer, limped out of Rock Creek and back to Missoula on the frontage rd at 8 mph with a busted spindle and a guide trip in three days.  Good times.  But before the shit hit the fan I was cruising around a dirt road on the backside of some field with the Bitteroot in sight.  I wasn’t really chasin’ trout, I was more trying to get lost in Montana.  I ended up in Darby.  One of the quirkiest and coolest little towns in MT for me.  I walked into one of the many fly shops looking for a map and maybe a place to float.  Talked to this older lady tying flies in the back asking about the usual.  She asked where I was from.  We got to talking, and she showed me the flies she was tying up, simple prince nymphs, but elegant and perfect.  Then she showed me the flies that she had tied and that were on sale.  Got some of the best salmon fly dries ever from her.  I remember the creak of the floor under my feet.  The dust on the unpopular flies in the bin.  The old photos, some with a younger version of the fly tier and beautiful trout.  The country music in the background, old school, I remember the end of a Willie song when I came in.  Old clangy bell on the door.  She asked me about my boat, saw my guide permit at the counter and asked me where I guided.  Told her the Yak.  She knew it, knew it wasn’t the kindest river.  I chuckled.  She sold me all the flies for $1 a fly.  I told her the total wasn’t right.  “Nah hun, you’re here to get away from guiding, you go enjoy the river.” I thanked her and left for the Bitteroot.

I visit that shop when I go through Darby every time now.  Just in hopes I might see her again and hear another story and see what she’s tying that day.  There is a genuine and very human connection that can happen with anglers.  Even anglers that don’t know each other or meet in passing.  Its something that I began to crave almost as much as trout.  The people the stories, that shared experience.

When I was in Wyoming I remember talking loudly over a football game at one of the many bars in Jackson Hole.  We met up with a guide after his trip for dinner. We had fished a side channel near Black Tail Ponds that day.  Was one of the best days I have ever had fishing.  Big techy cutthroat slapping big ol late season mayflies.  Grand Tetons in the background.  A grizzly bear was prowling around, my friend hooked a monster brown trout that broke him off, huge fish.  I was relaying the day to the local guide, I remember it being one of those conversations that turned into a back and forth of fishing stories from Canada to Louisiana.  Talking about the things that drive us nuts, when burnout hits, bananas, how we do lunches.  Just guide stuff.  That stuff we all get to talking about if you let us.

I started to realize during that trip that that peculiar group of too involved angers on my homewater…may include me.  It solidified that last day before we made the long melancholy trek back home.  It was cold.  Rock Creek in late September will be like that.  We had just finished our second day on the MO.  It was grueling with 30mph winds, which is nothing for a couple of guides that work the Yakima, but we did a 15 mile float like frattadas.  I rowed most of the day as I had already took the cake in terms of browns the previous day with a DECENT 25 inch male all spawny colored and hangry.  We stripped streamers in that wind and killed it for most of the day.  Then drove all the way to Rock Creek.  We were beat.  I remember curling up in my hammock, smoking a fatty, and falling asleep to the faint sound of the river and the Montana night sky.

The morning was frosty.  Heavy low wet fog was stuck in the pines above my head.  My fishing partner, which for all I knew had died in the night of exhaustion or was hauled off by a bear, was not having any of the morning.  I pulled myself into stiff waders, grabbed my satchel and fly rod and made for the river.  I was first on it that morning.  There were small mayflies and sneaky cutthroat.  By 9 am I was joined by a fellow angler.  He waved and walked by while I was tying up another fly.  Of course he asked how it was.  I told him they were sipping small para adams in the seams but were light lipping the fly.  We got to talking.  His camp was just next to ours.  He mentioned the swanky boat we were using.  Not mine, a flashy adipose, not my style.  Asked where we were from and why we got in so late.  Told him about the MO and where I guided and lived.  He was from Pennsylvania, loved Rock Creek, grew up fishing it with his Dad.  Was camping with his family and trying to get a few casts in before his kids got up.  He hadn’t even cast yet and it was 10 am when we finally parted ways with a handshake and a few stories exchanged. 

Tricking trout as the sun rose, waking with rivers, not the guy sleeping off a hangover, being exhausted after fishing for 6 days straight, driving over 1200 miles, listening and talking with a complete stranger and sharing that common fly fishing passion…that connection.  I knew it…  I was finishing up a week long fishing trip, fished 8 different rivers, caught fish everyday, did the whole trip on a budget of less than $500 bucks, tied all the flies except those sex dungeons on the MO, almost died in a class 4 rapid, guide trip the next day after I get home.  Trout Bum…yep.

On my homewater.  I find myself in these situations that remind me constantly that what I do, how I live my life, the stories and moments I share with others…they make up as much of this life as the trout and the wild places they live do.  Fly fishing facilitates that connection to nature and other humans that we seem to be lacking these days.  In a world filled with FB posts and picture filled feeds of fish conquered and products to sell; the essence of what makes fly fishing such a uniquely rich, natural, and human experience is hard to pick out of the scrolling.  I live a rich and happy life because of fly fishing.  I am a steward for the trout and their home.  It’s my home.  I learned early on that money really doesn’t make you happy.  Because if it did I should be miserable all the time.  Money is not necessary to live a rich and happy life.  The stories and people I meet, even if its only for a few minutes of riverside conversation, are worth more than any amount of money.  I found my passion, put myself into it fully, my family has followed me around that bend, and we live and breath rivers and trout.  As the offseason comes to a close I am anxious.  I love my work, cannot wait to share that passion with others.

I also cannot wait to dive back into that world fully.  Not for profit, not for clients, not for anything or anyone other than myself.  To be out on the river, listening to it, hearing its stories.  Meeting trout.  Meeting people.  Those early spring anglers…the ones who sleep in their waders, who are at the coffee shop before it opens, gear already strung up, boats with ice in the cup holders, each breath a visible puff.  The anglers that all know each other because they all share the same level of insanity in some form.  The ones not on a guide trip in February.  That need, the tug, that handshake, the release, that entrance into the world of trout that we all chase.  It changes some.  To their core.  To the point that it is part of their everyday lives.  Those trout bums, feather chuckers, full time river rats, they’re out there, and if you find yourself in the company of them more often than not…you probably are one.

 

Tamarack