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Endurance and Tea

Photo by John Hicks of Sea Run Pursuits
Photo by John Hicks of Sea Run Pursuits

Good things comes to those who endure. Thats the best way for me to have a positive outlook on the life I have. Enduring hardships, loss, but most importantly, disappointments have been a powerful factor in my outlook and way of going about life. Positivity has not always been so easy.

As I described in the previous post, I enjoy the simple things everyday as much as I can. With a day off and a quiet morning here in the apartment, I am enjoying a strong Irish Breakfast Tea, the only tea worth drinking in the morning in my opinion. Tea, like beer and coffee, should be black, strong, and filling. My youngest daughter woke up rather early jabbering to herself, after the rest of the family left for school we hung out playing and talking before she decided to zonk out on me and fall back asleep. The amount of happiness and energy a baby wakes up with in the morning is down right unfair. Little minions have never been a stress for me except during birth, and with this third kid being my final, I take every chance I get to slow down and hang out with her.

I enjoy these slow mornings, sitting in my little room under the stairs at my tying table, typing, the wispy tendrils of steam rising off my tea, the lingering smell of smoke from my pipe at rest, a rolling bluegrass tune in the background, the thoughts of trouts swimming through my head.

A long journey to be able to enjoy the simple things. Seems rather backwards really. I feel as if I was lost for too long and am finally realizing what life is supposed to feel like for the wary but young trout bum. Life seems to be more and more like the river and chasing trout than ever these days. As if I had just finished developing a relationship on the most difficult part of the river, the torrent, upstream section, hard to access, hard to land fish, but worth the journey to learn how the river and fish begin.

Now I am on the prime water. The long stretch of “good” water. That 70 mile stretch if you will. There are still hard days on this part of the river, difficult and finicky trout, troublesome weather and water, but the days of great moments and easy floating are upon me. Indeed, life seems to be more like the river and chasing trout these days. When I do find myself on the actual river, not the metaphorical one that comes out in the cliches I write, there are days I fish less and enjoy embracing the river more. Don’t get me wrong I fish…like a lot. But there are days especially when I float solo or with the dog, that I find myself parked along the bank listening to the trees sing back and forth with the wind. The river adds her talking and babbling to the chorus. I hear a slight dimple in the water upstream and see the ripple of a now less hungry fish. Another rises, and another, I see the insects hatching, I feel the pulse of the river change as the life within her bursts into the fray. But my fly rod is at rest on my shoulder, I am just watching and enjoying this moment of life the river is showing me. Enjoying the simple things, of a caddis hatch, a slight breeze, and rising trout. Life should be more like the river.

Of course the angler in me always gets the better of me. I wouldn’t be a fly fisherman if it didn’t. I false cast three times and lay my fly and line upstream at the rising trout. A decent cast, a perfect drift, an eager but wary quarry, and a connection between angler….and trout. The disappointment, and memories of loss and hardship fade away. There is only the moment, the calm simple moment. What more is there really?

Another cup of tea and a few flies tied this morning is in order. Take a moment and enjoy something simple…and think about trout.

Tamarack

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Bytes, bits, and a life of bites.

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I enjoy the slower side of life. Being 28 I feel as if I stumbled on some secret almost a decade ago. Fly fishing seems to be the driving force behind my, “enlightenment” if you will.

I fell into a field of study at college that fed on the technology this country has such an appetite for. Even as I type this app and manage my website, check Facebook, send emails, and listen to internet radio while doing it, I realize the irony that sometimes presents itself here. Using the very tools I am somewhat condemning to write and promote myself, for a lifestyle that feeds on the complete opposite.

We live in a world of bytes and bits. Bytes of computing speed, bytes of internet speed, small sound bits, small clips and bits of video, bits of text coming on bytes of data, fed directly into your eye and ear holes. The more we use it the more they pump into it. Now I can watch how to tie a fly on the Internet, while watching a video of fishing in New Zealand, filling out a fly tying order, and checking my facebook feed, while also looking at whats trending, checking the flows for tomorrows float, and reading the news and blog articles. Oh wait someone just messaged me, and I have a new guide trip inquiry, and a voicemail!

Its a never ending comma stream of things we do every day on auto pilot at mach 10 going full speed all the time! Its exhausting to even type it all out.

STOP…

Fly fishing is the complete opposite. For me it all about the river. The river moves slow around the bends, fast through the drops, and light and airy through the riffles. It has deep slow troughs that can move trees, it carves canyons and hews rock with its very touch…slowly over time. A slow powerful giver. All a river does is give, it gives life to the valley, it carves beauty into the mountain side, and is home to species upon species of life. The river is the matriarch of the wild, if the mountains are the father.

They give the angler many things. Why everything starts with the river for me is two fold. It brings me silence, and it demands patience.

I suffer from some wicked tennittus, playing drums in bands when younger will do that do you. The ringing never ceases. Like most who suffer from this annoyance of a problem, it can make things rather uncomfortable sometimes. Sleep is a big problem at times, crowded areas with lots of crowd noise make it worse making it difficult to hear, staring at computer screens for extended periods also make it kick up. The river…is the ultimate cure all for it. It combats the ringing with its constant running and the silence that surrounds the river makes the annoyance disappear and I find relief. It sounds silly but it works. It doesn’t work for any real scientific or health reason. It works because of what the river does to me.

All that noise, the plugged in nature of everyday life today, can flare up all sorts of problems for people. Stress being the biggest. The river takes that all away. She gives me my cure, by drowning it all out and I can focus and find a sort of peace in the form of chasing trout and all that it entails.

There is none of the regular life on the river. The river doesn’t care for any of it. Mobile phones should be off in her presence, not always a reality, but try it sometime. The river demands your attention, your focus, and your patience. She gives, but not without testing. The gift I love most is the silence.

The river is anything but silent but it is silent to the world away from the river. She drowns out the world around with her subtle flow, birds sing and chat along her banks, squirrels talk at one another, a river otter chirps, a beaver slaps its tail, a bugle of a distant elk in the fall, or the loud call of an osprey or eagle riding the air in search of prey. The river uses all of this to clear out all the noise and fill me with silence. A silence we have lost touch with. Imagine a world without the noise? Just you and nature….some people can’t handle it. Its intoxicating to some who find a place of such silence. A mountain top where no plane flies overhead, a river with a roaring rapid around the bend, a snow filled day and the sound of a cutting ski, these bring silence to the noise.

Patience. A skill hard learned for an angler. The world off river is a fast paced one. I find that if life doesn’t slow down, insanity will ensue. It starts with that cabin fever you get. Some people don’t realize its cabin fever and they snap after 30 years of doing the same grind everyday and buy a sports car. Screw the car, buy a drift boat!

I get cabin fever about every three days to be honest. I find myself yearning to be outdoors and on the river more and more. The winter has not been kind, and even when I am not on the river she is teaching me patience. Be patient for spring Nate, its coming.

I hone my patience through tying when not on the river. Sitting and focusing on a singular activity for extended periods of time that is not plugged in helps my patience. All the while I am thinking about trout and the river that holds them. I’m like a drug addict. A patient, angling addict.

That patience has trickled and infiltrated into my everyday life. I am patient with my children, my lady, my co workers, the general public. I keep a cool, calm, steady, and patient demeanor, a giving outlook on things, and deep powerful passion; the river has no room for anything else so why should life? Why do those with money, large houses, and lots of things, envy the trout bum with a simple happy life? Because life is slower, and they see it, and they want it. It’s worth more than any amount of money. Pretty sure we are missing something about this thing we call life. Fly Fishing reopens a door for me. I enter into a world that is devoid of the very things we think make up life. Money, job, car, family, bills, the stuff that clogs up what life actually is, isn’t on the river. Where would it be…there is no room for it.

When you spend enough time on the river you start to figure some things out. The biggest one for me always comes back to patience. Life, much like the river, necessitates patience. My life has slowed down. I take my time to go about my day. Always trying to stray from feeling rushed or constrained. I take my time on the little things: the mornings are for slowly waking early, with the sun is best. A strong cup of tea is recommended, always taking the time to drink it fully. I typically enjoy a tea and a read, or I will write in the mornings. This sets up the rest of the day. Taking the time to enjoy it is the best method for a proper day. A good groom of the beard and a curl of the mustache in the morning makes for a dapper day as well.

I spend time enjoying the simple things. The turn of the thread while at the vise or holding my baby daughter and listening to her tell me all about her day requires attention and patience. Brushing things aside and rushing everything means you miss the whole point. You don’t jet boat down the river fishing one cast in every hole and moving on! You float or walk, with the river, at her speed, you slow down to spend more time and give each fish the proper attention. Should life be any different? Why not approach life as if I were approaching a wary rainbow lurking in the under cut. When you spend enough time on the river….you learn things.

The pace of my world has slowed so much I enjoy the simple pleasure of rolling the perfect smoke, tying the perfect fly, making the perfect cast, or spending hours with legos and a couple of kids, all of them making me fill fulfilled for the day. I may work 8 hours a day a few days a week and get a paycheck every month but it does not fulfill me. It pays for the off river world that is a necessity and allows me to spend more days on the river and chase trout with friends and clients. There is always the hope that my days of work are always ones that involve trout, but taking your time to accomplish your goals seems to be the best strategy in my experience. Rushed never works and sometimes doing things solo is the best method, much like a walk and wade trip into the mountains in search of trout and solitude.

So there it is! A few insights about life from a fly fishermen. Going the speed of the river seems to be a better way to get through things. Making a goal everyday of downloading less bytes and bits and making the only bites I have…from trout keeps me happy and content.

Tamarack

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Cars Suck, Drifboats are Better

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I hate driving, with a passion. In fact I don’t much care for anything that is motorized really. Its just not my speed. My speed is foot speed. A good 3 mile an hour pace with a pack on my back, a fly rod in my hand, and a good pair of boots. Headed farther up the trail to secret fishing spots and undiscovered riffles and pools.

My speed is more around that of the river. A slow but powerful churn, that can be swift when needed but calms and ebbs just around the bend. More my speed indeed. The speed of a drift boat and a strong back row for one more cast, feels more right than most.

While most around the river enjoy the winter from the back of a snowmachine. I never cared for snowmobiling in the winter months. Far louder and too fast to enjoy the outdoors properly in my opinion. You miss the softness of the winter. The quiet fall of the snow, the light babble of the low river, the lack of wildlife noises opens a world of solitude and silence. I for one, find it utterly refreshing,

I found that the winter months were better spent skiing or snowshoeing into the woods and discovering the wonderfully different side of them, This winter has made that rather difficult but I have fond memories of past seasons. Winter also offered me something even more desirable and just as intoxicating.

The river typically goes through the winter with little angler presence. The few die hards and anxious trout bums like myself will venture out when conditions line up, or even when they don’t. Sometimes just being on the river casting a rod to troublesome and sleepy winter trouts is all that is needed. The winter brings a stillness, peace, and absolute quiet that cannot be found any other time of year.

I have always enjoyed the lonely winter months along the banks of the river. A nymphing rig set up on a fast rod, a double haul with a big open loop, a 30 foot cast to the top of a deep trough, and that sweet sight of an indicator going down, the powerful tug of a hungry trout at the end. I have never been much of a streamer angler. While I love to strip flies for bass, and occasionally when the time of year or conditions demand it for trout, but I have a deep love for nymphing. A high stick drift, over the cross currents into that small soft spot between the boulder and the seam, the trouty place that only a large winter trout would hold in, ya…thats the stuff.

Tricking the quarry of an angler on the nymph requires patience, determination, and damn fine mending skills. A small bit of insanity is also needed. While dry fly fishing is…well dry fly fishing, nymphing is a game of fine tuning and dialing down to the result of tricking the trout. A proper dry fly placed in the correct lane with a excellent drift will entice a strike. A nymph through the fishiest water 300 times may never produce a thing and you would never know the difference, and miss an opportunity at the pod of 12 fish 2 feet deeper below your rig. An understating of current and hydrology helps immensely, spending time observing fish feeding on nymphs with a snorkel also opens up an entire world of enlightenment to the nymph angler.

Studying how the nymphs run through the water column and how they react to water temperature, air temperature, pressure, and the time of year all factor into where the trout will hold in order to feed. Try fishing the Salmon Fly Migration before the hatch, so many fish are left uncaught by the dry fly fisherman because they are full on nymphs. Some of the larger smarter fish as well. During the winter this process becomes a slightly tougher game mostly because less fish eat and fish need to eat less.

Trout slow down and almost hibernate during the winter. Typically in pods in deep slow water, trout hang out and literally chill while the winter months pass along. The fish all eat, but depending on the day they may eat just enough, not eat at all, or eat very little. This means anglers must pay close attention to temps and flows as well as sunlight. Warmer days with warm nights keep the water temps up which means fish need to feed. The greatest thing about winter fishing, especially on the Yakima, is that the larger fish are much easier to catch during the winter months. This is because the biggest fish need to eat more. The little fish may only need a small helping of nymphs to keep their energy levels at nominal for winter time. Larger fish need to eat, and therefore are easier to target.

During the regular season fish will gorge themselves on naturals, mostly because they require more energy to keep up with higher water temps which fuel their metabolism and they expel enormous amounts of energy during faster currents. Factor in fattening up for spawning in the spring and holding for the winter; and the regular season fishing is fairly straight forward. Winter fishing is an exact science surrounded by absolute frustrating chaos within the mind of an angler. A process of whittling down the sections of fishy water until the river takes the win or the angler gets a chance to prove oneself.

The typical single and double nymph set ups work just fine. I find myself light line nymphing with midge and pheasant tails frequently, but a large stonefly nymph and a zebra midge usually will result in success during the winter. I enjoy taking a piece of water and working it out fully. Picking lanes 6 inches apart from each other and casting through them, adjusting my depth every few casts looking for that sweet spot where the trout are holding.

Hitting them on the head is the best method and if you have ever seen trout feeding under water during December, let me tell you, they move very little most of the time, even for food. Working and entire section of water patiently and methodically will usually result in a proper winter trout. Winter nymphing is a matter of working all the variables out until you get that trouty result. You may only get one shot at a trout in the winter. Mostly due to time, the window for good fishing most winter days is under 3 hours. Fine tuning and finding the trout can take up most of that time but an ambitions angler with a good mind set can get the job done.

I spend the winter months tying and chasing the larger 4 and 5 year old fish that live in the deep pools and runs of the Yakima. The river is peaceful, and nothing is better than a soft snow and a quiet river. The silence being broken only, by the sound of a reel slowly fighting against a deep pulling trout.

Our destination is only a couple hours now, I look forward to a change of scenery, a different river, and a new quarry.

Tamarack

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Thoughts on Flies…and Winter…or Bleh as it shall be referred to.

In my Harry Potter room, tying a MB Emerger.
In my Harry Potter room, tying a MB Emerger.

Yet again we are given a dose of warm weather and rain.  The river has jumped up a few hundred cfs.  It should settle by the end of the week again.  That seems to be the mode of operation for this winter.  No snow, lots of rain, and a fluctuating river.  Why doesn’t it just be March already, without any consistency its like a precursor to Spring.

UGH! MEH! BLEH!  Its kind of a downer really, all this pretty great weather in between all the rain and frozen H2O particles coming down, and no fishing.  Water temps are still topping out around 39 degrees which is damn cold but fishable, so when the river is in shape it is worth it to nymph or streamer fish some holes.  I am not getting my drift boat out until it decides to officially be spring and with February looming and big snows still anticipated for that month, it looks like it may be a late one.

If I have learned anything about the winters here its this (this is applicable to the months of November through March): “Winter is Coming…eventually…maybe around February 4th…but maybe next week…I don’t know…get back to me.”

DAMNIT!
DAMNIT!

Where is the bloody snow!?  Literally everywhere else in the country that it is supposed to be snowing it is, but not here.  While I have no doubt that it will snow, and it will probably be one of those miserable snows that just never stops, causes problems.  Then when it all settles it will be March 15th and everyone will be bitching about how the winter was too short.  Dude, the winter was shot like two weeks ago.  Its so late now anyone that has a weather dependent business has already took the hit and is just playing the waiting game like the rest of us.  The upper elevations are finally starting to get better but with crummy snow, warm winds, and rain mixed in, the conditions just plain suck.  I haven’t even got my skis or snowshoes out of storage and at this point I may never this season.  It’s too late to be playing in the snow, too much stuff to get ready for the spring…if it ever shows.  My fear is that the winter will finally arrive…and then never leave.  Like a few years back when the damn snows up high didn’t melt until late July.

I keep looking longingly at my fly rods all secured in their tubes propped up in the corner by the door.  My wading boots have a permanent spot next to the heater in the bathroom where I dry them between wade trips.  I say permanent because I have been out two times since November.  Its driving me bonkers really.  The saying, “Winter is Coming,” can suck it as far as I am concerned.  Pretty sure Winter got lost and when it does show up its just gonna make everyone mad with its tardiness.

The tying has been my salvation.  Without the ability to unplug from the day and the world by visiting the river, my cabin fever gets the best of me.  Anglers everywhere know what I am referring too.  That need to be outside, in the river, the smell of trout on your hands, bugs in your beard, a strong tug, a tight fly line, and a filled net, its becoming overbearing now.  Late February is so close but the weather may have other plans.  The vise is the only refuge I have, besides youtube videos of New Zealand and the Lapland.  I have been taking my time and relearning a few techniques, fine tuning a few newly acquired ones, and getting creative but simple with my patterns.

I love developing new patterns, trying different materials, working out different ways to replicate and imitate the natural.  My need to get into a decent fly shop with a plethora of tying choices, and a wad of cash is increasing dramatically as we get farther into this snow-less winter.  My supplies are dwindling which is a good thing, I get a kick out of perusing the feathers, hair, and synthetics for flies, much like some anglers look at the fly bins.  The other thing that short supply does is it forces you to try new things.  Shit, I ran out of that, well lets try this instead.  Then, bam!  I have a sweet ass new fly to try.  That’s how a few of my more productive patterns came about.

Is this the river of my dreams? No seriously I found this pic and don't remember what river it is.
Is this the river of my dreams? No seriously I found this pic and don’t remember what river it is.

For me the trip starts at the vise.  Every time I tie a new March Brown Emerger, or Skwala Stonefly Nymph I fish it in my head.  With each turn of the quill or wire I cast the fly into another riffle or run.  When I head cement the fly at the finish, in my head, I am releasing the fish and casting for the next.  Sitting at the vise didn’t use to be that way.  I sat at a vise before I ever picked up a rod, but now, every time I tie its like a little dose of fly fishing on the river.  It gets so bad sometimes I tie flies in my sleep and come up with new patterns for the rivers of my dreams.  It sounds super dweeby but hey, I am a nerd for fly fishing.

The one thing that I am missing is that angler to angler connection.  My Lady listens to me talk about trout, flies, rivers, and everything in between all the time.  We stay up after the minions go to bed and talk about fishing.  Well I talk and she listens.  She thinks its cool.  A little nerdy but she has been watching me develop into an angler and tier closer than anyone.  While I love talking to her about fish, she doesn’t share the same passion for it that I do.  She wants to travel with me to rivers, learn how to better row the drift-boat, and there isn’t another lady I know that can rough it in the outdoors like she can.  She’s the best kind of fishing partner…the one that doesn’t fish, but can row.  My Lady is not an angler and that’s cool and she knows it.

I do miss tying with a group of anglers, talking shit and telling lies.  I saw that the local fly shop is having tying on Sunday mornings and I will try and hit it, but work gets in the way.  I should look into a group of anglers getting together somewhere like a coffee shop or something and tying for an hour or two one day a week.  It would be cool to be amongst other anglers, share patterns and techniques, talk about fish and the river.  I don’t get a lot of that in my tiny little room under the stairs where my vise and materials sit.

I love to tie, but I love to fish even more.  With tying for guiding now its a bit more fun because I am tying a huge amount of flies that I normally wouldn’t.  For myself, I typically tie a set of flies at the beginning of the season and that’s all I need.  A set being 6.  I do not intend to tie all of my flies but a majority of them will be tied and not bought.  Why not?  I still tie a set at a time, but I was taught that tying the same pattern 24 times in a row can make tying really boring and mistakes happen when you get lazy after about the 20th fly.  I switch between two and three patterns until I have 2 sets of each.  The next day I may repeat the same patterns or move on to the next hatch.  It keeps it from getting dull or feeling like a chore.  I finish a set of March Brown Emergers, I get tired of tying tiny little mayflies, and move onto a large Salmon Fly Dry, then maybe a Green Drake nymph, and then back to the Emergers.  I get special requests from friends for sets of flies, Craneflies are a big one, as well as my super tasty October Caddis Pupa, and those also give me an excuse to change it up as well.

A little troutsnack party
A little troutsnack party.

The other plus side of tying for the guiding season is I feel like I am working.  Not just tying for myself but tying for clients is a big push for me.  I have tied for anglers and sent sets of flies off in the mail from time to time but never the amount I’m tying for guiding this season. The guides at the shop I used to work for would have me tie certain flies for them.  It saved them having to buy a few before their trip. We also used to tie for each other all the time. Carp flies, for trout flies, a particular guide had some amazing bass flies that I still use, and we all shared patterns and tying lessons. They were notorious for stealing flies from the table before heading out on trips though. So don’t leave flies hanging around.  I always got very critical but always constructive feedback on patterns of mine so I welcomed the less flies in my box.

There is something quite satisfying to hear a guide or angler praise a finely tuned, personally tied fly pattern.  It always made me feel like I was doing something right when my flies were in other anglers’ boxes.  I never got nervous about my flies being out there, but I have always been laid back about my flies. Fish eat ’em for me.

It’s cool that not everyone can tie them, you can’t find them everywhere, and just because you have one doesn’t mean you are fishing it right.  I have met a lot of anglers that just put the fly on/in the water.  Its always a riverside treat to meet an angler or anglers that see you catch a decent fish and ask what you used and you show them something they wouldn’t have in their box.  I am always handing out flies on the river.  I never want someone to get off the river with a bad taste in their mouth.  If a few of my flies help make their day better than of course I am gonna hand them out.  What really get’s me is when they ask how to fish it!  Oh man, yes, lets talk about that.

Flies do a lot of things besides catch trout; they inspire anglers, help concoct stories of grandeur, enlighten and educate on the ways of the river, and each one is a tiny work of art.  Such simple but intricate things; much like the trout they catch, much like the anglers that tie them on.

Tamarack