Montana Bound

  Our stay in Colorado has been enjoyable and comfortable, thanks to our friendly hosts Lauren and Matt.  My birthday was yesterday, May 31, and Lauren couldn't hold herself back from making a delicious strawberry rhubarb pie.  T'was the best pie I've ever had. Thanks again Lauren!  We had to continue our mission to Montana and Colorado was becoming very old very fast.
  We weren't sure if we were going to be able to drive I-90 all the way to, Bozeman, MT, our next stop on our journey back to Spotted Bear Ranch.  The town of Hardin, MT and the interstate running through was under a severe flood warning thanks to the Bighorn and the Little Bighorn Rivers flooding last week.  Luckily the interstate had become navigable  and we had a straight shot through Wyoming and into Montana via I-90.  Saw plenty of antelope, a few bucks.  It was perfect driving weather.  Every river or creek we traveled over was chocolate.  I-25 heads along Longmont up into Cheyenne, Wyo. and runs into I-90 just south of Sheridan.  We made it into Montana in 6 hours.

  After leaving Longmont at 7 am,  9 hours on the road and 3 stops later we made it to Bozeman.  Such a comfortable college town.  Surrounded by the Bridger mountains, the Gallatin and the Madison ranges, the Horseshoe Hills, and the Tobacco Root mountains.  The Gallatin and East Gallatin rivers, less than an hour from the mighty Missouri and its other two tributaries the Madison and Jefferson rivers, and only twenty minutes from the longest free flowing, undammed river in the lower 48 states; the Yellowstone.
  We met up with our buddy and past co-workers at Spotted Bear, Nick Larson, his fiance Jocelin, and their black lab Willard.  It was a long day of driving so after catching up and chowing down on some gargantuan elk burgers we hit the fart sack.

  The next day was our other co-worker, Morgan Cannons birthday.  We wanted to celebrate and  decided to try the Dirty Babcock Triangle (DBT) by hitting three bars on Babcock St. that are located within 150 feet of one another.  To make a very long story short, we only made it to one bar and had a blast.  I think we may have partied to hardy but you only turn 34 once, right Digger!?  
    
   Damn it feels good to be back in Montana. Even though were still 8 hours from where our journey finally ends it feels like we made it.

Rocky Mountain National Park

  Since we are crashing at Ian's buddy's, only an hour from RMNP, we figured it was a must to go visit and maybe fish the National Park, since we are a little addicted to fishing.  On Sunday we drove straight west from Longmont into the Wild Basin entrance to the park.  The North Fork of the St. Vrain creek creates this rugged basin.  We were told that we may be able to catch a brook trout in this water.  After buying our parks pass we didn't have to drive very far to access the St. Vrain.  The weather was very sunny and the creek was running clear.  The North Fork is a smaller creek.  We were fishing it during run off and it was still pretty small.  It looked very fishy too. Yet we fished it hard and Ian was lucky enough to pull out what we came for, a nice 11 inch brookie using a deep nymph rig and an indicator.  The scenery won us over, the fishing was a little dissapointing, but all in all twas a nice day in the park.
  Two days later we returned to RMNP to fish a different stretch of water.  We had learned that the Roaring River which is a tributary to the Fall River which flows into the Big Thompson.  To get to the Roaring River we had to drive through Estes Park and through the Falls River Park entrance.  Just out of Estes Park was a six point bull elk munching on aspen leaves along the road.  Cars and people were clustered around this almost unnatural sight.  I was kind of hoping the elk was going to get ticked off enough to put his velvet tipped antlers through those ignorant tourists who, I felt, were invading his space.  The elk here are celebrities.  The heard that lives in and around Estes are not wild in my opinion.
  After seeing a herd of cow elk in a meadow along the Falls River we turned into the Roaring River trail head parking area.  Snow started to fall when we stepped out of the car and loaded our packs with our fishing gear.  Not sure on how large the river was going to be we packed our waders and wading boots just in case.  This trail leads to Lawn Lake, 6.4 miles up the Roaring River.  We new we were going to encounter snow but weren't sure how high up.  The weather was bizarre.  Snow coming from the south yet there was nothing but blue sky as far as we could see.
  The hike started out switchbacking 1000 feet up in elevation and around 11,400 ft. Bighorn Mountain.  We were at 466 feet above see level in St. Louis only 4 days before.  This hike was hurting, bad.  It felt like the air was trying to push my head in and squirt my brains out of my ears.  Needless to say we took a few breaks going up this steeper section of the trail.
  After switchbacking up the hill, the trail leads to an overlook which stares down and into the Roaring River basin.  Still sunny and snowing.  The trail follows along the river with plenty of easy access points to get to the water.  The stream was a lot smaller than we thought. Didn't need our waders.  Though small, the water was flowing briskly.  It was very difficult to get a drift.  Ian saw a trout come up for his parachute Adams but couldn't hook 'em.  That was the only fish we saw up there.  We explored up the trail as far as we could but got snowed out after only two miles from the car.  Where there was snow there was over 2 feet.  We turned around and made our way back to the Jeep.  The mysterious clouds that were throwing snow at us had moved in and the weather was turning sour anyways.  We aborted RMNP.


  Drinking beer and fishing, again, for carp was all we needed to bring our spirits up from this dismal day in the park.

Courteous Companionship in Colorado, and Carp.

  Matt, Lauren, and their dog Beatrice live in beautiful Longmont, Colorado.  Ten minutes north of Boulder and only an hour from the gates of Rocky Mountain National Park.  They live in a very comfortable house next to the Longmont City Park.  Ian knows Matt from growing up and going to school in Illinois, Lauren is Matts lovely girlfriend and chef extraordinaire, and Beatrice is a ponderous Newfoundland/Golden Retriever that make up a very mirthful nest.  They are kind enough to let Ian and I crash in their top floor.

  We have spent the Memorial weekend here with delightful weather and plenty of different species of fish on our flies.  The past few mornings we have been sleeping in because the weather conditions seemed far from nice in the A.M.  But not too long after our coffee cakes and red bulls the would peer down through the clouds onto the eastern front of the Rocky Mountains.

  Ian and I found Laughing Grizzly fly shop, north of town and entered for a fishing report.  The word sounded best to go and find the Big Thompson River just north near Forth Collins.  The Big T flows from the Estes Park Reservoir and dumps into the South Platte in Eastern CO.  We were to fish the upper stretch.  Being the time of year, waters were high, a little murky, and FAST.  But fish gotta eat and we wanted to tease them with our talent.  We ended up sticking probably a dozen browns and a rainbow.  Nothing huge, maybe 15 inches, and lanky.  The highway towards Estes Park was annoyingly busy with Memorial Day campers which kind of made the beautiful scenery feel a little over-loaded.


  The guides at Laughing Griz also told us about some good carp fishing.  They pointed at two different  reservoirs in the area.  We thought we'd try our luck warm water fishing, after fishing the frozen Big Thompson waters.
  It must be the time of year but the carp in this lake were going INSANE.  I think it was their spawning season.  They cruise  the cattail laced banks feasting on crawdads, sculpin, minnows, small nymphs. Almost anything that makes a "poof" in the mud, they'll eat.  They almost submerge themselves along the shores playing and fighting with one another.  It's a little alarming when your standing next to this quiet lake when all of a sudden three eight pound carp explode in the brush right next to you.  We had to catch one!
  It was a first time for both of us and it took some patients to figure out how to catch them.  They tail just like red drum, which will make your heart jump straight out of your chest when you see it. The water is so clear you can see them swimming thirty feet away.  You must place the sinking fly right in front of their face and make it pretty enough or they will just swim on by.  This got very frustrating after a while.  But with enough persistence you may get lucky, as we did.  I landed a phat carp, probably seven to eight pounds the first day.  Ian landed one too.  They fight hard.  One will easily take you past your fly line and into your backing.  The shortest fight we saw was over five minutes. Holding that 8 weight fly rod like a bear would grip a caught salmon with his mouth.
 We came back the next day with even better luck and more caught carp.  Ian held two today and one was a beast.  Damn near nine pounds!  I can't talk enough about how flawless the weather has been. We feel very fortunate because it's snowing on our friends in Montana and our friends on the east coast are baking away in 100 degree heat.
 Happy Memorial Day wherever you are....

Rocky Mountain Bound

  We were lucky enough to stay at a friend of Ians house just east of St. Louis.  Ians friend Ashley and her housemate Sarah were hospitable enough to let us crash at their nice home.  A tornado warning was issued for this area we were in, so with the nasty weather we went to kill some time by going to a movie.  We were rudely interrupted by a theatre bellhop, warning us about a tornado that had touched down not too far away.  So we never finished the movie, but we were able to witness a much more entertaining scene.  The front of this heavy storm didn't come through lightly.  Wind had to be whipping over 60 mph with a torrential downpour.  Being from Montana I was nervous, but talking to a couple of the locals who see this every other day, I was a little more relaxed....a little. We escaped with no damage in our area.
 We arrived at Sarah and Ashley's place with a warm welcome.  We, both, were in desperate need of a shower.  Sarah had just recently bought a new shower curtain that gave the bathroom a bright new look.  It was pink! It fit the shower perfectly, I thought.  Being a all-womans shower it felt impeccable.  Twas the best shower I had since the Blue Ridge Mountains.  I want to thank those lovely ladies once again for their hospitality and the colorful shower.
   (I forgot to take pictures of the shower curtain. Sorry!)
 That night we all feasted on some great Vietnamese food just west, in St. Louis.
 We woke early in the morning to make a 13 hour trek west, towards Denver, Colorado.  We drove over the Mississippi, under the St. Louis Arch, around Kansas City and through most boring state in America: Kansas.  Flat and irksome are the only two words to describe Kansas.  Long story short, 13 hours later we could see the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.  Ian has a buddy that lives just north of Denver, in Longmont, Colorado.  It feels good to be back in the rockies. Where the air is crisp and the sky ends with a mountain top.

Illinois Bass

  Our journey has brought us to Edwardville, Ill.  Ian has a few friends here that are welcoming two smelly ass fish bums into their homes.  We left North Carolina early.  Drove west through Knoxville and Nashville, TN.  Through west Kentucky over the Ohio and Tennessee Rivers into Illinois.  It's so humid here. I cant imagine summer in this neck of the woods.  We drove 9 hours to Springfield, Ill. To Ian's sisters home.  For three days we drank, and laid low.  We were feigning for more fish.
  Ian's college music teacher, Rick, has a pond behind his home near Edwardsville.  He has maintained this pond, which is shared by a few other neighbors, by himself for a couple of years.  This pond holds largemouth bass, bluegill, crappie, and a few carp.  When we first walked onto Rick's dock we spooked three carp that had to have been up to four feet long.  And thats no fish tale!
  We set sail onto the calm, reflective pond in Rick's canoe.  Right off the bat we were catching bluegill.  Then bass, then bluegill.  It was too easy. A size 12 fat albert beetle was all we needed.  We lost count at two.  Fished all afternoon and into the evening.  From reds to rainbows, brown to bass we have been f*#king up fish across america.

Fishing In Da Hood

  This is our seventh day fishing in and around Banner Elk, N.C.  We slept in and woke up to a beautiful sunshiny day.  We started out driving to the town of Foscoe and fished the Upper Watauga River.  We were told there was a really nice brown trout in one of the pools along this section.  We did see some nice fish.  I hooked a descent rainbow but it was smart and went straight under a rock and snapped me off.  Ian landed a largemouth bass which was really weird seeing a bass in this high mountain river.  It only took a dead drift with a black bugger in front of its face to get a bite.

  After lunch we fished in a creek that went right though Banner Elk.  It was pretty much a ditch.  Any water pocket bigger than a basketball held a rainbow.   Mostly diminutive little fish.  But i did pull out a twelve incher.  Using a caddis with a copper john dropper.  Fishing this creek was more for a laugh than anything.  We tried a few spots. Parking next to Lowes hardware store and in the park next to a volleyball net.  We caught some beautiful fish and didn't have to try very hard.  Twas perfect.


 The Blue Ridge Mountains treated us well.  It was an awesome experience that taught us a lot about fishing.  I will be back to fish these mountains again.  We are heading west again, towards  Illinois and the Mississippi River Valley.

South Holston River, Tennessee

  Ian and I have fished in and around Banner Elk, N.C. for six straight days now.  Catching native and stocked rainbow and brown trout.  The biggest was maybe 13 inches out of the Upper Watauga River yesterday.  We had parked at a nice park in Valle Crucis, just over the hill from our condo.  Walked to the rivers edge onto a man made fishing platform.  First cast, Ian landed a nice brown and we caught maybe a dozen more after that.  From san juan worms to olive caddis.  The rainy weather had finally let up but was still overcast.

   Today we met up with Ians guide buddy Ollie. He floats and wades on the tail waters of the Watauga and South Holston River, both in TN.  The weather was sunny and warm.  FINALLY!  About an hour drive west brought us to the Holston.  The river flow is regulated by the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) for power.  So to fish it, one must call TVA and find out when they are releasing and holding the flow.  When in full flow, the river can be muddy and way too high to wade fish.  But when the water is held back the level drops and the clarity increases.  So at 10 a.m. we had our waders on and were walking up the river bank.  The water level was dropping dramatically.

  Ollie knows this river well.  The first spot he wanted to fish was looked amazing.  About a mile downstream from the dam.  It was weird watching the water flow drop right in front of your eyes.  Not seeing very many flying bugs or any rising fish, we started out nymphing.  That didn't take long before one of us had a nice rainbow in the net.  Only twenty minutes into the day I landed a marvelous rainbow on a size 20 caddis pupa with 2.5 lb. test!  "Jedi sh*t!" Biggest bow I've ever caught.
  About an hour later we started seeing sulphers (PMD) on the water surface.  The fish were rising and we were catching.  The browns and rainbows on this river need a more than perfect drift to hit your fly.  They are very tippet shy so your line has to be upstream of the fly and perfect dead drifts.  A lot of huge mends are necessary.  If you present the fly impeccably you might get lucky and have a trout look at it. It's techy fly fishing at its best We lost the fish count about noon and fished in a 150 yard stretch until 5 o'clock.  Beautiful fish all day.

  We drove down the river to a new spot away from the dam because they had begun to release water out of the dam.  Blue wing olives were the fly to be here.  A few rainbows were dumb enough to bite our lines.  The weather held up all day to make this the best fishing day on our journey west to Spotted Bear.   Not sure what to do tomorrow.  Maybe go fishing......  

Elk River, North Carolina

   Our journey west has brought us to Banner Elk, N.C.  About a 4 hour drive west of Wilmington,  Banner Elk lies near Boone in the Blue Ridge Mountains along the border of Tennessee.   We have the privilege of crashing at a sweet condo Ians aunt shares.  We are staying at Sugar Mountain, a ski resort in the winter.
   We arrived on Sunday, May 15.  These mountains have dense, impenetrable forests with rolling hills more sublime than anything I 've seen in the east so far.  Reminds me of Montana.
   The Elk River starts in Banner Elk, N.C. and flows into Watauga Lake, Tennessee.  The section we fished was catch and release and has hatchery supported browns, brookies, and rainbows.  A marvelous river with luscious vegetation and cascading water falls.
  Big Falls is located just downstream from Elk Park, N.C.  This was our first fishing spot.  Ian caught a rainbow below the falls and another about a mile downstream.  The scenery kept me from concentrating on fishing.  We returned to the truck for a little sardine and vienna sausage lunch.  We drove to a different access along the Elk.  This spot was much more fishy.  It seemed like every hole had  at least one fish in it.  Mostly browns but a few rainbows.  Too many fish to count.  Any dry fly seemed to work.  Caddis (size 16) and parachute adams (size 18)  seemed to be the best. Also dragging a bugger with a little copper john worked well.  We fished until the sun set over the hills.  The forecast calls for rain and cold weather.  That's not gonna hold us back from exploring these mountains.

Fishing with Seth

   Day four we woke up not too sure about going fishing or not.  Waking up at 7 a.m. and fishing till 6 p.m. for three straight days is hard work!  We ended up sleeping in because it poured rain this morning.  We had bacon, eggs, and grits for breakfast when we woke.  Not too long later the rain stopped, followed by a call from Ians friend, Seth Vernon.  Seth is a full time fishing guide with a passion for shallow-water fishing.  He is one of the reasons why Ian is a fishing/hunting guide now.

   We met at 2 o'clock and jumped in his Nissan Xterra and were off to Fort Fisher State Rec. Area along the Cape Fear Coast.  He launched his Skiff into the water as easy as I would brush my teeth in the morning.  In no time we were off to one of Seth's secret spots.  He drives like a Indy 500 driver through the grassy canals.
  Seth was saying that only three years ago he was always the only boat on the water fishing for reds. Today we were finding pilgrims in his sweet spots.  We finally found some water that didn't have any other fisherman nearby.   The tide, at this point, was rising BIG.  The reds will use these rising tides to get way up on the grassy shores to find fiddler crabs that nest in the mud.
   His fishing craft is set up so he is standing above the motor, pushing or poling slowly across the grasses and the fisherman had a platform with a stripping bucket for your extra fishing line.  I was the fisherman today.
  The water was so shallow, about two to three feet deep, that you can also look for a red fish's wake snaking around.  The first red we saw must have spotted the boat before we could see him and a wake pushed away.
"Let em go." Seth said in disappointment.
   But we staid put.  It was a good spot.  Blocked by wind and not another angler in sight.  A tail glistened to my 1 o'clock.  It took two hauls of the rod to get to the red.  It landed about two feet past him and the fly line startled him. A wake pushed away.  He was gone.  It didn't take long and a red inched to within 10 feet from the boat. One flick of my wrist and I plopped the fly right on top of his tail.  It spooked him to the next county.
   The rest of the afternoon went about the same.  Seeing plenty of reds but not getting the perfect cast.  It takes more than a graceful cast, it takes experience.  Every attempt, every fish you see, takes a different trick or technique to make that red even look at your fly.  It is like nothing else.  I definitely recommend it to anyone who wants to put their fishing skills to the test and who wants there adrenaline pumping.

  A special thanks to Seth Vernon of Double Haul Guide Services, who put me on plenty of reds and for his professionalism and hospitality!   www.doublehaulguideservice.com ...   And thank you for those red drum who proved to me that I need a lesson in my fly fishing! :-)

North Carolina: Day Three

    We drove up to Jacksonville, North Carolina, towards Ian's parents house.  On the way was a boat access near Surf City.  We slipped the canoe into the water to give it another go.  Our tactic for three days has been to paddle out to the northern end of a bay and have the wind push us back down the shoreline.  Fisherman in the front, hunting, and an oarsman in the back, pushing and controlling the canoe.  
     I fished first for about 40 minutes or so.  Not seeing any tails, so continued stripping through fishy looking water with no success.  
    Then Ian took over.  He wasn't fishing for ten minutes and a red took us by surprise. Thrashing and rolling in the water.  It wasn't the biggest red in the ocean but put up a hard fight. It was exactly what we needed to keep the fire alive in our heads. We fished all day with no other bites but it didn't matter one bit.
   That night we enjoyed a massive shrimp feed with great company at the Privette household.
   
  The next day luck was on our side again, for Ian.  He hooked on to two reds and landed one. This one fought harder and longer than the fish the day before.  Three red strikes in three days.  Thats really good fishing out of a canoe.

North Carolina: Day One

   Arrived in Wilmington, North Carolina on the morning of Tuesday May 11.  The flight went as smooth as the cycloid scales on a kokanee salmon.  Warm and humid. You can observe it in the air, inhale it in your nostrils, and feel it on your skin. Ian met me at the airport and we drove straight to a sporting goods store to buy a saltwater fishing license. 
    Before noon we were launching a 16 foot canoe.  We were casting a Orvis Hydros 8 weight with a flashy shrimp imitation.  Pushing the canoe over shallow, flooded grasslands in search for Red Drum.
    Red Drum, or Reds, use the rising and lowering tide waters to move in to the grasslands to feed on fiddler crabs, shrimp, and small snails called periwinkles. The shallower the water the more thrilling the fishing gets.  Reds will dig their noses into the mud or down into the grass exposing their tails. So fishing for them one must hunt for "tailers" and try and catch a glimpse of the tail.  You may get lucky and bring the boat over the top of one and spot them cruising or resting. 
   Day one was unsuccessful, for reds, but we were rewarded with warm weather and awsome views of the great Atlantic coastline. We saw pelicans, osprey, red-tail hawk, great cormorant, glossy ibis, and the clapper rail. Ended the day sunburnt but jubilant.

Gear Up

Yesterday I left my hometown, Whitefish, Montana, to start a full circle spring fishing trip. Sure to be exciting and one hell of an adventure.  Starting in Whitefish and driving to Edmonds, Washington.  To jump on an United Airline flight to Wilmington, North Carolina.  Then drive almost 3,000 miles back to The Fish.  From Reds to Rainbows, Bullies to Bass, we will try and catch 'em all!