Cascade Outfitter

End of the Bird Hunting Season Ritual (Part 3)

2012-01-30T07:06:00.000-08:00

JANUARY 29, 2012

tags: Bird hunting, Missori River, Montana

1 Vote

My last post was about Goose hunting, the place where I’d found the wonderful spot was due to it being my favorite Upland area. Usually, I hunt in the mornings, going out before work, sitting in an office most of the day talking on the phone to bankers, title people, and other Realtor’s. The reason I found the goose hunting spot was because one particular day I decided to get out late afternoon to give my dog a good run. Normally I enjoy to get out early, the light in the morning’s make the getting out of bed worth while. In the late Fall, the sunrise’s are breath taking, the air is crisp, and sometimes down right cold. But generally, it warms as the sun rises and with all the walking makes getting out very comfortable.

This past 2011 season was one of the best I have seen for weather, but the lack of birds made some days extremely disappointing. As you know from my last post, the goose # s are extremely strong, but due to the two harsh Spring snow blast that we have seen in 2010 and 2011, it really effected the upland bird numbers, at least in our area, and from what I’ve heard, in most area’s around the State of Montana.

I’m sure reading these post one must think I get to hunt all the time, not true, I do try to get out when ever I can, and living in an area where one can hunt ten minutes from town, it helps to encourage one to strap on the boots , and get out and walk. But, I have never had the chance to hunt as much as I’ve wanted, maybe a good thing, keeps me hungry to get out when I can.

In the first two post I wrote about starting the season off with my 20 gauge Remington wing-master, usually until Duck and Goose season starts. Then , I start using my Benelli 3 1/2 inch 12 gauge for waterfowl. But my favorite gun, and my go-to gun for all occasions is my 12 gauge C_Z over and under.

This is a gun that is easy to carry on long walks, it is quick to shoulder, easy to shoot. Even while out upland hunting I always carry a box of Steel shot just in case Ducks or Geese appear.

Huns

This past season I saw the fewest numbers of Huns I’ve seen in over twenty years. It must be due the the huge snow fall we had late in the Spring of 2011. But, I did manage to get into a few covey’s, not in their usual places, but in a new area that I started hunting just this past season . Scouting out this new property meant to drive the entire farm. It had two small creeks on the property and near these creeks are were I found the birds. Food , Shelter, and Water is a good starting point when looking for Huns, it usually pays off, and this past season was no exception. As I was driving and looking for signs of birds, I found a small dirt road that paralleled a meandering creek that cut through a alfalfa field, and near the main gravel road, it wound it’s way through a wheat stubble field. It did not take long, as I came up and over a small hill, there they were, 25 or so Huns running for the shelter of the Alfalfa field. I stopped and loaded the Over and Under, let the dog out and she was on them like white on rice. The covey had started to break up, but the chirping of the one of the adult bird’s warned them to fly now, and almost the entire covey flew in unison to an area on the other side of the creek. As they rose I took one of the birds that had gotten up nearest me, Pearl brought it back to hand, but quickly was nose to the ground, birdy and working the area near where the covey had risen. I was thinking that maybe she was still smelling the covey from before, with so many birds they leave quite a scent trail. So, I started to walk in the direction of where the covey landed. Pearl was persistent, working the area with her nose to the ground in a quick back and forth motion not giving up. I turned to call her when the “sentinel” adult bird flushed and flew right by me , he fell on this side of the small creek, and Pearl retrieved this one with a smile on her face, she knew she had done her job.

We crossed the snake like creek on a bend just near where I had marked the covey had landed. Much to my surprise my black lab did not seem to find any scent. So, of course we walked the entire area, nothing, it seemed as though the 23 birds that remained had vanished. I don’t give up easy, so we walked , back and forth for up to close to half an hour, my dog was starting to give me that look, like ”buddy, they are not here, lets go” . It was a warm morning so I was thinking these birds could be in one of two places, in and around the Alfalfa field where it is cooler, or they ran for the small patch of CRP just beyond the Alfalfa. The Alfalfa wasn’t yet cut so it seemed like a logical place for the birds to hide. We zig-zaged our way quickly through the uncut grass, Pearl once again was looking back giving me that look, so we headed into the small patch of CRP, Pearl was racing through the tall older CRP with a huge smile and her tail was really going. Just then I saw a Hen Pheasant rise just above the grass and drop down to the same spot, Pearl was racing around in a frantic pace, when yet again in a different spot another Hen Pheasant did exactly the same thing. Just then Pearl ran to me with something in her mouth, it was a small chick Pheasant, I told her to drop , and she did, the chick scurried off to join 6 or 7 other baby Pheasants all running for their lives to join their mom. It was strange to find at the end of September Pheasants still on their nest. This was a breeding area, so I quickly called my lab and we headed out of there and back to the car. Due to the huge snow fall in the Spring, it appeared that the Pheasants were trying to make up for the kill off in the Spring, and were trying to have a late second clutch. The rest of the Huns got away that day, but I did return a week later, and it turned out to be a carbon copy of the first day. Shot two , and the other’s vanished….

Pheasants

This past year I did not get out to hunt Pheasants like I usually do, but I did have some fun hunts. I missed the opening, I was guiding fishermen on the Missouri river, my other job, that I have been doing for the past 25 years. Near town, there was a new ranch/farm that opened up for the public to hunt. I drive by this area on my way to work each day, and it did have quite a few hunters on the property each time I passed. I tried to get on this property most of the season, but each time I’d call it was booked. So, I hunted my old spots, that did not seem like there were that many birds as in years past.

My first opportunity to get out and hunt Pheasants was at the end of October, I ‘d gotten up very early around 5:00 am, my black lab Pearl knew what we were going to do, and followed me every step throughout the house , not to let me from her sight. As I dressed for the morning hunt, my dog was right at my feet watching every move I made , stretching, and barking in protest that I was moving much too slow, she was ready. We arrived to the hunting grounds to find that we were the first ones there, good, now I can go where ever I want. I know this property very well, and headed right to the heart of where I’ve always found birds in the past. It was a beautiful, crisp, sunny October morning, and lucky for me the wind was down, it was calm, just the way I like it.

My dog has a different look on her face when she knows we are going Pheasant hunting, once she is in the hunting grounds she gets serious , she knows that these birds will hold. Pearl has learned to stop and listen for movement in the Goose berry bushes, it is not always about scent. There is nothing better than either seeing , or hearing a Pheasant before you dog does and watch her find the bird you already know is there. This day was a classic, the birds were right were they were suppose to be, they got up within range, and I went 3 for 3 , it could not have been better.

I hunted a dozen or so more times this past season, and I always got at least one bird, but compared to years past, this was a difficult season as I have seen in many years.

Sharptails

The Sharptail grouse is a bird that will almost always do well, even on big snow years, due to the fact that they love to perch, high, even in large trees. You can often find sharpies just after a fresh snow fall , sitting in large covey’s high in Cottonwood trees, out of the snow.

This past year it was the only one of the big three that I think the numbers were down but not at he same level as the Huns nor the Pheasants, Sharpies are survivors. Living here in Cascade, I often times see Sharpies right in town, perched on the tops of the Fur and Cottonwood trees. Last season were had quite a bit more snow than this season, and last season I ran into giant coveys of Sharpies, their numbers were close to 200 birds. This is generally in December, when many smaller coveys come together to stay warm during the dead of winter. This season has been much more mild, and I have yet to see the covey’s unite, maybe they will not, it is suppose to be in the 50′s this coming week.

I had a few good hunts, one day back in November, I hunted in a CRP field looking for Pheasants, when my dog got very birdy, and stated tracking what I first thought was a Pheasant the way the bird were running. I was following quickly behind her for a good five minutes, she was right behind something, never loosing scent. We followed the birds to an edge of a stubble field, and much to my surprise up came a Sharptail, I made a good long shot and dropped it, Pearl made the retrieve and we continued in pursuit. She got back on scent and after chasing the birds all the way back where we started, this time three more sharpies got up, I doubled , Pearl made the retrieves, and I was more than satisfied to get three birds before going to the office and work.

The end of the season ritual is the final cleaning of the guns, that will be put away for the next 8 months. I always clean my guns each and everytime I hunt. But at the end of the season the guns get a very thorough and complete cleaning, and after the cleaning are heavily oiled to protect against the rust during the time they sit in storage for another season. It is always a sad day for my hunting partner Pearl when she she’s this ritual, and the guns are put in the closet until the next hunting season commences.

End of the Bird Hunting Season Ritual (Part 2)

2012-01-30T07:01:00.000-08:00

End of the Bird Hunting Season Ritual (Part 2)

JANUARY 28, 2012

tags: Bird hunting, Goose, Montana

1 Vote

From my first post I spoke about my early season hunting and how I started the hunting season with my Remington Wing Master 20 gauge. Most years here in Montana the Duck and Goose season starts the first week of October. This is generally when the 20 gauge is put away and my Duck Gun is brought into action. This is a Bennelli Pump, 12 gauge that can shoot 31/2 inch shells , that I feel more confident when shooting large Canadian geese.

I really enjoy shooting ducks, mainly because I like eating most species that fly through Montana. This past season here on the Missouri river it did not seem like the Ducks stuck around very long, we would get a storm out of Canada that would move birds into our region, and it seemed like within days they would move on. 25 years ago here on the Missouri River near Cascade, we would have Ducks all over, Mallards were common, you could find them from Ulm all the way to Holter Dam. It was easy to go out and get a limit of Green Heads, and even a few Wood Ducks would be in the back channels along with Pintails, Red heads, and Widgon. This past season it appeared that the ducks did not stay around like the did in years earlier, my feeling is that the weather had alot to do with the ducks moving onward.

Speaking with another Realtor in our office who grew up near Cascade and has been waterfowl hunting the area for the past 50 years, he remarked that when he was a kid the Missouri River was full of Mallards. Thick with Mallards and other ducks, but he said, this area had very few geese. A few Snow geese would pass through , but he said , the Canadian geese were a novelty. Interesting, because today this area is has a huge population of Canadian geese, there are many more geese today than there are ducks.

Now for me, I prefer to eat a Duck over a Goose, now that’s just me, but, if there are few ducks, and many more geese, well I’m one to be “when in Rome”…In the area around Cascade we have a perfect environment for both gain eating ducks and geese. this area is just at the beginning of where the Great Plains meets the Rocky Mountains. On the Eastern part of our Valley, it is flat with mild rolling hills that are golden brown with wheat fields , inter mixed with CRP, that unfortunately are coming to the end of there contracts with the Federal Government . The CRP are farm lands that were “let go” without farming, and farmers were paid not to farm these fields. This was a huge bonus for upland bird hunters, the fields grew wild and the crops would mix with wild grasses, giving great cover and food for all the species of Upland birds. It will be interesting to see what develops in the next ten years as almost all of our CRP land are brought back into farming.

One of the reason’s this area is a perfect waterfowl environment is due to the Missouri River. All along the river, are the grain fields, but, this is not enough just to have the food. The birds need a safe place to “roost”, or rest and sleep at night. This rich aquatic environment of the Missouri has over the centuries developed Islands, big and small, that give a safe refuge for the waterfowl from predators like fox, coyotes and Man.

This past season I set up a blind in an area that was on one of the main flying paths that ducks and geese would use to fly from their roost to feed in the wheat fields, and later in the day, would change fields due to wind, or hunting pressure in the fields. I had some great days, but I was disappointed in the numbers of ducks that were in the area, but the number of geese made up for it, and most days the goose shooting was fair to good.

While upland hunting one afternoon, in an area that I usually use, I noticed that a great number of geese would fly off there safe spot on the river in-which they use during the heat of the day to rest and digest there morning feast, and would fly in a bee- line to a wheat field some two miles off the river. The line that they flew was directly over the field I usually hunt for Pheasants, Huns and Sharptail grouse. My dog Pearl and I hid near a fence line and watched as platoons from 10-50 geese flew over, very low just coming off the river. This went on for a good 45 minutes, as platoon after platoon kept coming, at times filling the sky, and, the honking as they flew over was near deafening with so many of the noisy Canadian flying to enjoy their last meal of the day. I knew not to shoot more than two, just because I knew I’d have to carry these large birds back a mile or so to the car. It was a perfect set-up, as the big Canadians came off the river, they were flying right into a blinding sunlight, and against a strong South Westerly wind, low and hungry. I took two birds in two shots, Pearl made the retrieves, and with the sun just starting to set we started the walk back to the car. On the walk I made plans for the next day, carrying the birds was the most difficult part of the hunt. I decided to empty my decoy bag, and use that to transfer the heavy geese , it would be much easier to use my big canvas backpack of a decoy bag to move the geese out of the field.

The next day, Pearl and I arrived around the same time, late afternoon, same conditions, wind was out of the South West , and it was really blowing, the sun was low on the horizon, perfect. I wore clothing that would blend in with the yellow-golden grass and wore a tan hat a a light brown camo “Buff” to hide my face. I had found a ditch just below a hill that was right on their path, it would be a perfect ambush spot. It was warm for November, Pearl and I waited basking in the warmth of a rare November Montana afternoon. Then it started, the sound was impressive, thousands of geese sounding off to start their last feed of the day. Pearl was focused, listening the constant honking of what was flying toward us, trembling with anticipation, ready to retrieve the xtra large game-birds. They were flying right towards us, it was a wonderful sight, the first group had around 12 different platoons, some were out of range to our left side, and a few flew just out of range on our right, but the majority were heading right at us, low, slow, into the sun and wind. As the first platoon was in sight just above the hill , Pearl jumped up when she saw them, I grabbed her and settled her only to look up to see the geese were just overhead. I shot two, and they fell very close making a very load thug as they hit the ground. The birds were so low that they were “blown up”. The breast had quite a few steel shot, and the guts were exposed and hanging out. Pearl unfortunately got a good taste of the demolished birds, and did not run right back with the geese, but rather had stopped with the bloody goose, and, had it in mouth and was thinking this was pretty tasty. Hunting stopped right then and there as my bird dog and I had a close encounter, eye ball to eye ball, and a serious conversation about proper etiquette concerning retrieving. I put the blood ridden goose in the extra large backpack, and had her retrieve the other goose, with me hot on her heels to ensure no funny stuff. She got the message, and we settled back down into our ambush mood, it didn’t take for about two minutes and the platoons were flying on a direct line right at us again. This time I stood just before the geese arrived, flaring the giant birds so they would rise and fly off just a bit , an easy shot , but one that would only kill and not mutilate. I double again, and we were through, it was time for the load carrying walk back to the car. The platoons kept coming and coming the entire time Pearl and I walked the mile or so back to the parking lot. From the time we started and returned to the car was well under two hours, this became my honey hole for goose hunting. I hunted this spot 7-8 times more during the season with the same results, as long as the sun was out , and the wind was from the usual South West, it was a great spot.

I’ll finish with (Part 3) next time (Upland)

Driving on the other side (Part 21)

2012-01-22T08:02:00.000-08:00

One of the reasons the girls choose to stay where they did, was due to the fact that they would have an individual cabin, and, the fact that the cabin they choose was right on the lake with a stunning view. As they drove through the small town of Moana, they noticed that one Pub seemed to be the hot spot and decided to check it out. The Pub's of the South Island had changed from the years past. In the old days, each Pub had two sides, one for women , and the other for men, usually there was a bar in the middle where both could eat, drink and mingle. These days most people just went to the bar in the middle, wow, now that is progressive. This Pub was a DB ( Dominion Bitters) Pub, the most popular drink in this part of the South Island. Jane and Kelly get a table instead of sitting at the bar, they were there to eat, they thought they could drink later. In the Pub's they almost always serve food, good food, and lots of it. The menus are typically pretty similar, Kidney and Steak Pie, Lanb Stew, Fresh Fish and Chips are always available, and typically a special of some sort , what ever is in season, tonight it was Venison ( Red Stag) in a cream brandy sauce.
Both Jane and Kelly had one thing in mind , and that was to eat, after smoking the red bud that Billy had given Jane, both girls were starving, and were focused on food. Everyone else in the bar were focused on the two women who just lit up the Pub with their beauty. The waitress appears with a small pad and an active pencil that is tapping the pad in a rapid pace. Whata have girls?"Jane looks up to say" ah, menus please" The waitress with a look of discuss says, " it's written on the board behind you, there is fish, stew, pie, or if you'd like the special is bambi". Jane ops for the Fish and chips and Kelly the Lanb Stew, Jane ask for bread as well. At the bar, there were two young men who did not appear to be locals. They had wild sun bleached blonde hair, they were both dressed similar, with baggy canvas pants, loose fitting short sleeved shirts and Teva's. Jane noticed the two after she had eaten three of the hot , fresh rolls that came accompanied with real butter. "Kelly, check these two dudes sitting at the bar behind you, they don't look like local's" says Jane casually. Kelly turns around to have a look, then turns back at Jane and says, " they look a little young, don't they"? Jane with a look of surprise replies, "since when did you get so picky'? Kelly with a defensive tone adds, "well don't they"?
The food came nun too fast for the weary travelers, both girls devoured their food in what seemed just minutes, Jane with a devious smile lets out a small burp, and says, " that hit the spot"! Kelly sighs and says, "Oh man, I needed that , it was delicious.' Jane bends her head back and has a big laugh, only to return to see both tall young men standing directly behind Kelly's chair. " Good evening ladies, can we buy you a drink" came from the one of the surfer looking dudes, that appeared to have an Australian accent.
Back on the East coast, Billy enters the dinning room to find Kate Granger sitting at the bar smoking a cigerette, with a enormous glass of red wine parked just in front of her. Billy is stunned to see the women he met earlier who was decked out in a loose fitting Logan green outfitt, to now be looking absolutely ravishing. Kate wore four inch heels, a dark green emerald dress that was sleeveless and the front cut in an exposing V, it came to just below her knees. She was lightly made up, and wore diamond ear rings with a matching necklace , ring , and bracelet. Kate Granger was a stunner, Billy was speechless for a few seconds until Kate broke the silence with , " Billy , welcome, would you like to have a glass of Red or White wine"? Bender could feel hid heart pounding in his chest.

End of the Hunting Season Ritual (Part 1)

2012-01-21T17:53:00.000-08:00

Last week here in Central Montana the Hunting season for Ducks and Geese came to a end. The general "bird season" ended January 1st, that is for all upland birds including Pheasants, Hun's, and Sharptail Grouse. It is always a sad week for those who love to hunt, and for bird hunters, it is that time of year to prepare your guns for the eight month lay-off of being stored away, for yet another season which will resume on the first week in September 2012. I use three different shotguns during the hunting season. In September, I usually start hunting with my Remington wing- master, 20 gauge, upland model. I have had this gun for 20 years, it still has an excellent action, and over the past 20 years it has only jammed once, due to heavy shooting and my lack of cleaning the gun properly. It is an extremely light gun that is easy to walk with during the heat of September while I hunt Doves, Hun's, and Sharpies. In September I will hunt only early mornings, or, evenings due to the normal heart of the long September days. My black Lab Pearl does not take the heat well, and frankly, nor do I. Most birds are feeding in the cooler parts of the day, so this works out all the way around.
One September many years ago, I found an area with quite a few Mourning Doves that were resting on telephone lines right above a wheat stubble field that was freshly harvested. In between the field and just below the telephone lines was a irrigation ditch beaming with clean, clear water. The road I was driving was small gravel, it was a perfect place to expect many more doves in the field itself, than just the twenty or so birds I was seeing resting on the wires. There was a farm house at the far end of the wheat field, I dove in and asked the farmer if he minded me walking his field to shoot some doves. The cover-all wearing farmer was extremely friendly and told me to help myself. I started just near the house, all shooting would be away from the house, so I could feel free to shoot and not worry about shooting towards the white, red trimmed ranch style house. The field itself was around 60-80 acres, it was great bird cover for stubble, it was thick and golden in color, cut long with a good five to six inches standing erect toward the sky. My first few step got doves to flush, much like Quail, or, Hun's, small covey's of six to ten birds erupting quickly from the golden cover, and diverting into smaller pairs in all directions. I doubled on the first flush, my heart was racing trying to stay focused thinking of just how many birds there might be hiding and feeding in the newly cut wheat. While my black lab Pearl was retrieving the two downed birds, she flushed two other covey's, these two groups flew wildly in all directions, just out of shooting range. I called Pearl back, we rested for a short while and the resumed walking in a different direction. In less than three minutes we were into Doves once again, this time there was around five or six small covey's, I doubled once again, marked the downed birds and watch the lucky ones fly to the south eastern part of the field, and much to my surprise, land and presume feeding. This field was a Dove magnet, it had everything they needed, it had good quality food, the stubble was long and thick for cover, there was water right there, plus gravel, and , the wires were a perfect perch.
It didn't take long to shoot four more birds, I had my "limit" and was more than satisfied for the quality and style of this Dove hunt. It was one of the first times that I was able to shoot doves in the classic rise form that one thinks of while shooting upland birds. Since this experience, I have looked forward to the early season, and spend my days trying to replicate this very special experience. It's never easy, the fields are rotated, some years are dryer than other, conditions are never the same, but , I continue to pursue the perfect dove field once again. (Part 2) on a later day...

Driving on the other side ( Part 22 )

2011-12-30T12:01:00.000-08:00

At the Pub in Moana, Jane is direct and asked the two red eyed surfer dudes, "so, just how old are you two"? The two blurry eyed boys look at each other with a look of surprise, "Uh, my name is Alex, I'm 24 and I'm from Sydney, this is my mate, his name is Christian, but you can call him C".
Jane in her haste to get some food in her, slipped on a pair of panties and a short, loose fitting white sun dress that was adorned with small colorful flowers. Her honey colored hair was pulled back in a pony tail, she wore no make up, and, was wearing just tan clogs. As usual Jane looked incredible, without any effort Jane Greenfield could turn a man's head at 100 yards. Kelly looked playful, she was a much more attractive women then she gave herself credit. It was the lack of attention for so many years from her ex that broke down Kelly's confidence. Kelly was lightly made up, she wouldn't dare go out before putting her "face on". She wore a short, dark brown skirt, and a tan, tight fitting, sleeveless cashmere top, and 2 inch tan pumps, she looked hot. Kelly's shoulder length red hair was just combed out, naturally wavy, both girls had a look of being sunkissed from returning from their hike earlier. Jane leaned forward with a serious look, exposing her voluptuous cleavage and invited the two Aussies to join them, the boys could not find their chairs fast enough, Alex signaled the waitress for drinks all around, "my shout", exclaimed the obviously excited surfer dude.
Bender realized that he was completely under dressed for his dinner date with Kate Granger, but Kate's warm smile eased his worries , as Kate reached out with a quarter filled large glass of red wine, she said, " It's our best Pinot Nior, I hope you like it. Please , be seated", came from the smiling and elegant dark red haired beauty. The small wooden table was adorned with two crossing long white linen banners that left the rest of the wood exposed. White linen napkins were atop-ed with sterling silverware, and in the center piece there were three tall white candles, and, salt and pepper shakers, both in Sterling. In front of each large China dinner plate was a small arrangement of local Spring flowers, on the right side were matching small salad plates. Billy helped Kate be seated and then sat and said ,"Kate, wow, this is much more than I expected, this is wonderful, thank you ". Both raised their glasses and took a sip of wine, before the put their glasses down, out from the Kitchen came two uniformed, white gloved wearing young women carrying large bowls that had extra large silver serving spoons that were protruding off to each side. Kate was served first, she adds," tonight we are having red stag medallions in a brandy cream sauce, boiled potatoes, basil-ed carrots, and Spring salad with a balsamic dressing, all grown here on the property, I hope you enjoy".
The food is exquisite, perfectly prepared, Bender has seconds on the venison, Kate barely eats a thing, but does manage to finish the salad and Vegi's. The conversation is polite and casual, Kate suggest to have dessert out on the back deck, it is a warm evening, and the moon is nearly full. The two move out to be seated on a small couch on the back veranda that over looks the lake. The moon is just rising and reflecting off the placid small lake, it is a rare Spring evening in the southland of New Zealand. Kate looks surreal in the light being reflected from the Lake, like a Bond girl on the big screen. Kate starts to light another cigarette, when Billy ask, "would you like to smoke something besides a cigarette"? Then from his upper shirt pocket displays a hand rolled looking cigarette. Kate with a look of surprise, tosses her thick red locks backward, exposing her long elegant neck then laughs. "OK, it's such an unusually warm, windless evening, and this is such a unexpected pleasant surprise, why not"!
Billy and Kate both take turns inhaling the sweet smoke of the Rangatikie Red Bud, and take in the the view of the Moon rising over the far off Mountains that seem to take guard protecting the endless rows of the young grape plant that are attached to wooden post. In the small Lake, Mayflies are hatching, the sound of gupling trout fill the air. Kate turns to Bender and asks, " so, tell me what are your plans, you told me about work, I don't mean that, I mean this week, tomorrow, what are you going to do"? Bender looks into the hazel eyes of Kate Granger and says," tomorrow I'm off to Christchurch, I met a women on the flight down, she is someone that really moved me in just a short time. I need to see if what appeared to be a real connection is in fact just that. She is someone special, one of the most beautiful women I have ever met, she is talented, succesful, she Fly fishes, shoots, we have many things in common, I can't stop thinking about her. Kate asks, " who is it, Christchurch, I know alot of people from Christchurch". Bender hesitates, then says, " Ann hunter, I'm sure you know who she is". Kate tosses her head back and lets out a very un- lady like laugh, then adds, " Ann, I've known her all of her life, her parents are good friends of mine, of course I know her, she is a lovely girl! Does Jack and Addy know your coming"? Just then Billy realizes that he'd forgotten to call, "oh shit, I meant to call and let them know I was coming, it completely slipped my mind". Kate says" don't worry, I'll call them in the morning to let them know you are on your way, they are wonderful people and dear friends, no worries"!
The sexually charged electricity that permeated the air all evening , seemed to wisp away along with the thick, sweet, white smoke of the red bud. Kate and Bender both starred at the Moon lit Lake and watched large Brown Trout porpoise in small u's pouncing atop of the lake surface eating large yellow Mayflies. "It's late " Kate says, " Billy, thank you for your company, it was a delightful evening, but I'm off to bed, sleep well, I'll see you at breakfast, 7:30 am OK"? Bender replies", no, thank you for everything Kate, your a wonderfiul host, and it is a pleasure to spend time in your company, 7:30 is perfect, thanks again, sleep well, good night".
As Kate walked off to bed, a gentle breeze left a light sweet smell of Kates perfume lingering, Billy could only hear the click, click, click of Kates heels on the wooden porch as she went off to prepare for bed, and Billy could not help to wonder what Kate Granger wore to sleep, if in fact she wore anything at all.

Driving on the other side (Part 21)

2011-12-28T20:00:00.001-08:00

One of the reasons the girls choose to stay where they did, was due to the fact that they would have an individual cabin, and, the fact that the cabin they choose was right on the lake with a stunning view. As they drove through the small town of Moana, they noticed that one Pub seemed to be the hot spot and decided to check it out. The Pub's of the South Island had changed from the years past. In the old days, each Pub had two sides, one for women , and the other for men, usually there was a bar in the middle where both could eat, drink and mingle. These days most people just went to the bar in the middle, wow, now that is progressive. This Pub was a DB ( Dominion Bitters) Pub, the most popular drink in this part of the South Island. Jane and Kelly get a table instead of sitting at the bar, they were there to eat, they thought they could drink later. In the Pub's they almost always serve food, good food, and lots of it. The menus are typically pretty similar, Kidney and Steak Pie, Lanb Stew, Fresh Fish and Chips are always available, and typically a special of some sort , what ever is in season, tonight it was Venison ( Red Stag) in a cream brandy sauce.
Both Jane and Kelly had one thing in mind , and that was to eat, after smoking the red bud that Billy had given Jane, both girls were starving, and were focused on food. Everyone else in the bar were focused on the two women who just lit up the Pub with their beauty. The waitress appears with a small pad and an active pencil that is tapping the pad in a rapid pace. Whata have girls?"Jane looks up to say" ah, menus please" The waitress with a look of discuss says, " it's written on the board behind you, there is fish, stew, pie, or if you'd like the special is bambi". Jane ops for the Fish and chips and Kelly the Lanb Stew, Jane ask for bread as well. At the bar, there were two young men who did not appear to be locals. They had wild sun bleached blonde hair, they were both dressed similar, with baggy canvas pants, loose fitting short sleeved shirts and Teva's. Jane noticed the two after she had eaten three of the hot , fresh rolls that came accompanied with real butter. "Kelly, check these two dudes sitting at the bar behind you, they don't look like local's" says Jane casually. Kelly turns around to have a look, then turns back at Jane and says, " they look a little young, don't they"? Jane with a look of surprise replies, "since when did you get so picky'? Kelly with a defensive tone adds, "well don't they"?
The food came nun too fast for the weary travelers, both girls devoured their food in what seemed just minutes, Jane with a devious smile lets out a small burp, and says, " that hit the spot"! Kelly sighs and says, "Oh man, I needed that , it was delicious.' Jane bends her head back and has a big laugh, only to return to see both tall young men standing directly behind Kelly's chair. " Good evening ladies, can we buy you a drink" came from the one of the surfer looking dudes, that appeared to have an Australian accent.
Back on the East coast, Billy enters the dinning room to find Kate Granger sitting at the bar smoking a cigerette, with a enormous glass of red wine parked just in front of her. Billy is stunned to see the women he met earlier who was decked out in a loose fitting Logan green outfitt, to now be looking absolutely ravishing. Kate wore four inch heels, a dark green emerald dress that was sleeveless and the front cut in an exposing V, that came to just below her knees. She was lightly made up, and wore diamond ear rings with a matching necklace, ring, and bracelet. Kate Granger was a stunner, Billy was speechless for a few seconds until Kate broke the silence with , " Billy, welcome, would you like to have a glass of Red or White wine"? Bender could feel his heart pounding in his chest, he was starting to focus, and realized he quickly needed to get in the zone...

Driving on the other side (Part 20)

2011-12-28T11:50:00.000-08:00

The road into Blenheim was slow going, Bender had to wait as farmers moved sheep on the highway from pasture to pasture and the only way was on the road itself. Two plaid shirt wearing gentlemen donning shorts and wide brimmed hats whistled constantly at five black and white sheep dogs, slithering low, then running, stopping, and then again running to keep the heard on the road . The working dogs were a sight to see, Billy forgot about his lack of nourishment for a few minutes to take in the moment. As one of the men approached the car , Bender put his window down to say hello. There was a deafening sound of Bah, Bah, Bah's coming from the enormous heard, along with an eye brow raising smell that permeated the air. The farmer was wearing boots, shorts, a wool shirt that was covered by a Icelandic style sweater and a floppy wide brimmed, dark colored hat. He was also sporting a long, dark colored walking stick that had an appearance that it was hand carved. "Good day Mate" blurted from the farmer, " no problem mate, stay to the right, you'l be right, no worries" So Bender drove on the right side of the noisy, smelly moving mass of grass eating mammals, finally getting ahead of the last of the filthy, long haired sheep.

As Billy approached the town he was struck with just how extensive the row after row, mile after mile, of grapes were being grown in this region. He noticed a sign that read Timara Lodge, fine dinning, luxury rooms, spa and vineyard. Well, this had everything that Bender was looking for, all in one place, so he turned into the driveway to find a charming, English style garden that surrounded a perfect ginger bread style house that was located on the banks of a small lake that had fish rising and feeding. "Perfect" Bender shouted, but it looked closed, nobody was around. It was the Off season, but Billy thought that it had to be open, so Billy knocked on the front door. A gorgeous women in her early 40's dressed like she just stepped out of the Field Magazine, green from head to toe that only accented her dark red hair and fair complexion, was smiling as she welcomed Bender into the lodge."Welcome, I'm Kate Granger, the owner, and you are"? Billy was taken back by the beauty of Ms, or Mrs Grange? And finally stumbled out with "nice to meet you , I'm William Bender, but you can call me Billy". The two got through the introduction and Kate showed Billy his room and explained that he was the only guest, but, the staff was present and they would serve dinner, and everything would be open for him. There was a small store that sold wines from their vineyard, and of course t-shirts, hats, some jewelry, and local artifacts. Kate gave Billy the tour of the grounds and told Bender a brief history of the area and of the lodge itself, also telling Bender that he was welcome to do some fishing, or have a swim in the pool, or hot tub. Kate inquires," Mr Bender will you be dinning alone this evening, I need to let our chef know, for tonight we will be serving Medallions of Venison"? Bender replies, "Yes, I'm alone, it will be only me". Kate, with a smile and eye brows raised, suggest that they dine together, for she is a widow of five years, and that it seemed silly for both to dine alone. Bender agrees, and they set the dinner for 8:00 o'clock sharp, the dress, casual.

Jane and Kelly finally, despite the heat of the afternoon arrive at the landcruiser , both girls completely exhausted, and dripping from perspiration, decide to drive to a B and B to rest and get a good meal. Kelly takes the wheel and Jane looks at a map to find the nearest town that may be something of interest on their way down the west coast. Billy at this time is on the east coast and working his way to Christchurch, the girls are on the opposite side of the Island , heading south down the west coast, on their way to hike the Milford track. Jane suggest that they just drive for awhile until they both agree on a place to stop, Jane says," there is only one road down the west coast, so, we won't get lost, so lets just see where we end up". Kelly is in full agreement, then adds, " this country is stunning , I mean look around us, what beauty, the mountains are white capped and jagged, along with the contrast of the super green hill sides, and these rivers are just pristine, my goodness, everything seems to be so clean". Jane says, "yea , but I've seen enough sheep to last me a lifetime, I'm ready for some fun, lets go out tonight" . Jane pulls out a small pipe and lighter and begins to smoke. "Whats that?" ask Kelly, " is that Pot, where did you get it"? Jane after exhaling a long hit replies, " Billy gave me half of what he'd gotten from a friend up on the North Island, it's red bud, he says it's really good, want some"? Kelly with her mouth open, looks at Jane and says, "why not , we are on vacation, might as well have some fun"! The two girls, high as kites, driving down the west coast of New Zealand in their rented Landcruiser come to a small town on the edge of a Lake. The sign at the entrance of the town reads Moana. This is a small tourist town on the edge a Brenner Lake. They get a room at the Counrty Motel, then go for a swim in the Lake that is just in front of their room. The water is frigid, but , at the same time refreshing after the long hike and drive. They both run into the cabin to take a hot shower, and start to get ready to go out that night. Jane blurts out, " I could eat a horse I'm so hungry, we haven't eaten a thing all afternoon", and with that, the two drive into Moana looking for a nice place to eat.

Billy, on the other side of the Island, is just getting out of the shower , and getting ready for his dinner date with Kate Granger. Billy thinks while he is getting ready, " this could be interesting'...

Driving on the other side (Part 19)

2011-12-26T09:51:00.000-08:00

Bender pulled out his South Island map to get an idea of the best route to get to Christchurch. He decided to drive to the town of Blenheim, which is in the heart of the most famous wine-country in the South Island . From his Northern location , he notices that it will take sometime due to the mountainous , curvy road that winds through the arid mountains, and through the rich fertile valleys that produce world class wines. This is the area of New Zealand called the Marlborough region, famous for it's white wines, with Sauvigon Blancs being the top producer, along with Chardonnays and Pinot Noirs being a close second and third respectively. This area of the South Island has excellent soils, abundant sunshine, and cool nights that are perfect conditions for growing grapes. Billy thought back to his first night in Auckland when he first tried an excellent Marlborough Riesling that was delicious, accompanied along with the Bluff Oysters, Lobster, and fresh Asparagus. Bender planned on spending the night in Blenheim, then he would have time to buy a case of wine to bring as a gift for the Hunters, and not show up empty handed. Billy wanted to make a good impression, so, to choose the correct wine might take some time.
Back at the beach, Jane and Kelly got dressed, and, continued their trek along the flat white sandstone path that led them to the first stopping spot that turned out to be a small hut that was comprised of wood walls with a grass thatched roof. "perfect " Jane exclaimed, " lets spend the night here". Upon entering what they thought was going to be their home for the evening, they found that all four beds were already occupied, with colorful backpacks resting atop of the four small single beds. "oh shit" came out of the mouth of Kelly, and she asked Jane, "now what"?
The girls were disappointed and perplexed to know their next move, when a sexy bikini clad brunette entered the hut. "Hello, are you two wanting to spend the night here?"came from the brunette, with a European accent. "I'm Anna, we just got here this morning", behind Anna standing in the doorway was a blonde, wavy haired, tanned, great looking man in his early thirties, " Hi, I'm Eric you two just arrived?" Both girls were just starring, since Eric had only shorts on, nothing else, just a big smile and shorts. Finally, Jane blurted out, " yea, we just walked in, looks full, I'm Jane and this is Kelly, we are both from Colorado". Anna says that she is from Sweden, and that Eric is from Montana. "So", asks Jane," how far is it to the next hut"? Eric pipes in and tells the girls that they have missed the ferry to the small Island where the next hut is located, and, that the next ferry is at 8:00 am tomorrow. The girls decide maybe they would hike back to the car and continue down the road to the west coast where they can hit the Milford track. "We are going to also be on the Milford track" says Eric,"maybe we will see you there". Kelly enthusiastically replies, "hope so, that would be fun!"
The girls figure they have around three hours to walk back to the Landcruiser, so, they say goodbye and start their journey. As soon as they are out of earshot, Kelly turns to Jane and asks, "was that guy hot or what?, I could have done him right in front of that sexy little swede and let her watch, or join in, or, whatever!" Jane with a look of disgust, turns to Kelly shaking her head and says, "Kelly, you really need to get laid, I mean". Kelly replies, "your right, I do need to get laid, and I'd be happy to be with that hot little Swede, because I noticed how Eric was burning a hole starring at your white bikini top, he could not keep his eyes off of you Jane". With a devious smile Jane says, "I know, he was getting hot, did you see the size of the simi he was sporting through those shorts?"I'll make you a deal, if we see them again, I get Eric and you can have the sexy Brunette, deal?" Kelly sighs and say "deal".
Billy was getting weary after driving through the curvy hillsides, it had been hours since his last stop, and he was in need of nourishment and drink. Then he noticed off to a distance a fair sized town, it was Blenheim, just in time thought Bender. As Billy started the decline and into the green fertile valley, he thought that he had forgotten to call Ann Hunter to let her know that he was getting close. I'll have to call her tonight, to at least give her a warning that I'll be there tomorrow, Bender was thinking. Tonight, I'll dine and drink some great Kiwi wines, shave, and look for a appropriate gift to bring for Ann's folks, I hope they drink wine, thought Bender. Billy wondered what Ann would be like with her parents there all the time, then, he remembered her face, what a beautiful women, and what a body, tall lean, curvy, maybe the most beautiful women Bender had ever seen.Tomorrow could not come fast enough, Billy needed a drink...

Fishing a New Style , Tenkara, an ancient Japanese fishing expirence

2011-12-19T07:11:00.000-08:00

In 1986 while working as a guide for the Rivers Edge in Bozeman Mt, one morning two men came into the shop looking for a guide. One of the men was American, the other was Japanese, the American was an interrupter for the man from Japan. We all met and were getting ready for the day when I noticed that the Japanese man had a something in his hand he was trying to show me. It was a tube that was around 18 inch's in length, I had no idea what this was, but the American said this is his rod for fishing. Just then, the man started pulling out the rod in the shop, it was very long once it was all out, maybe 14 ft in total length, a telescoping rod made from fiberglass. Of course I asked if he had a reel with Fly line, when I noticed that there was no guides on the very long soft, flexible telescoping rod. The Japanese man was very excited, and was trying to mimic just how he used the rod for fishing, but he did not speak a word of English, so I was completely in the dark. He was holding a horse's tail that he presented from his back pocket, in which just confused me even further. Then the American re-appeared, and explained the process that we would be using to fish that day. He said that there was no reel, but that the single strand of horse tail would be tied on to the tip of the rod, the length was around 2-3 feet Then, a hook would be tied to the free end of the single strand of horse tail. On the hook, the Japanese gentleman would put on what ever he could find to entice the fish to feed, that lived near, or in the river.
We decided that the three of us would float the Yellowstone River near the town of Livingston MT. While I was preparing the boat for the days float, and getting the boat in the river, I noticed that the Japanese man was turning over rocks in the river and collecting a fair number of golden stone fly nymphs. He was very happy with his bounty, the American said that these would be perfect for his style of fishing. So, off we went, the American in the front of the boat and the long rod fishermen was fishing from the back of the boat. Once we were off and floating, introductions were re- established, the Americans name was Bob, and the Japanese gentleman's name was Ichiro. Bob told me that Ichiro was a well know and extremely successful business man from Tokyo and that Ichiro had wanted to fish the American western rivers for most of his adult life, and today, was a dream come true. Then Bob told me about the style of fishing that was taking place in the back of my boat , it was called Tenkara, and that it had a very long history in Japan, Bob was not sure just how long , but he thought for hundreds of years this style of fishing had been popular, usually with small creek fisherman. Just then Ichiro was screaming from the back of the boat, he had a fish on, I moved the boat into the shallows to anchor and try and land the fish that was just in the surface slashing wildly. As I reached out with the net in an attempt to subdue the fish when I noticed it was a whitefish. Oh , I thought, too bad, I would have loved to see his face if it would have been a beautiful Brown trout, or a colorful Cutthroat , or fiesty red striped Rainbow, but the dull , greyish colored whitefish seemed like a constellation prize for a man who came all the way from Japan to catch a wild trout. But, I could not have been more wrong, Ichiro was beaming with complete delight, he said to Bob, that his day was made, if he did not catch another, it did not matter. Ichiro jumped out of the boat and into the shallows, splashed the water from the Yellowstone river on his head and face , turned to the Big Blue Montana sky and yelled something in Japanese, that Bob could only say, he is very happy, very happy indeed.
The morning was typical for June in this part of Montana, cool, with intermitten clouds, with hopes of a better day to come. As Ichiro re-entered the boat, the sun broke though the metal -grey colored clouds and emitted a warmth that warmed all three of our souls, and we continued down the beautiful Yellowstone River through the Valley they call Paradise. Ichiro kept hooking fish, some were trout, these were just too strong for the horse hair tippit, and would break usually after becoming airborne. With each hookup Ichiro would let out a yell in Japanese, no interpretation was needed from Bob, it was a sound of pure joy.
Just after eating lunch around mid-day, Ichiro was hooking fish on a simi- regular basis, 9 out of 10 would be the dull brownish- grey Whitefish, but on the rare occasion even a trout would become airborne and break free. Then, around 2:00 pm Ichiro stopped fishing, he told Bob that he had caught too many , he felt guilty for catching so many fish, and wanted to go home. Ichiro was ashamed of himself for letting his emotions get the better of him , and he felt like he was being a glutton. OK said Bob, lets go home, Ichiro has caught enough.
The ride home was quiet, we returned to the parking lot at the Rivers Edge, Ichiro bowed, then shook my hand and thanked me, Bob shook my hand and said, I'm not sure you will undrstand, Ichiro felt like he caught too many, it is not the way of Tenkara fisherman.
We as western Fly fishermen can learn alot from the Style of fishing called Tenkara. I have to say as a long time professional guide, I loathe the Fly fishermen who starts out the day with , "all I want to do is catch a mess of fish, and I don't care how we do it". What a dichotomy from the typical western "client" and the style of fishing called Tenkara.. I find myself somewhere in the middle, and comparing both ends of the spectrum, it seems like a nice place to be.

Driving on the other side (Part 18)

2011-09-10T10:39:00.000-07:00

Bender was focused as he watched the #14 size Elk Hair Caddis float perfectly over the the feeding Brown Trout. Billy had no idea of the size of the fish, all he could see was small brown lips breaking through the surface from time to time eating the large moth like bugs as they helplessly floated in the path of the hungry Brown. Bender was fishing with a very long leader, the total length was 17 feet of the clear mono line that was attached to his light green fly line, each cast Bender made, only the leader passed over the trout, the fly line would land a foot or so down stream from his quarry. Billy presented the large fly perfectly, it landed soft, never spooking the ever feeding trout. There were a good number of the naturals hatching and floating over and near the small brown lips, but only the Caddis that floated directly above the trout were molested. Billy had made very good cast, but the currents would either take his fake to the right of the trout, or, float it to the left, never floating in the direct path of the feeding lane of the Brown trout. Bender made a perfect cast and kept his rod up high keeping his line tight almost skiddering the large imitation directly over the feeding lane of the trout. The small brown lips attached themselves to Billy's fly, it was too much for the trout to refuse, the fly was right there for the first time. Bender was shocked to see a huge Brown Trout jump two feet straight up in the air and land on it's side, Billy was wondering at that point if he had made a mistake tying on 5x tippit, he had no idea just how large of a trout he was casting to, the trout tore line off the reel and was heading down stream to a deep slow moving pool. Lucky for Bender, for if the trout went up stream it might have broken the fine tippet on one of many of the large Volkswagon sized boulders. After a short battle, Bender brought the trout near shore and gently placed his hand under the belly of the spectacular specimen. He placed his rod over the top of the resting beast and measured the trout while it was in the water, 29 inches, Billy knew this because the first guide of his fly rod was exactly 30 inches. Bender removed his fly from the corner of he trouts mouth , and he watched the gorgeous golden trout swim off to rest just three feet away to catch it's breath. Billy sat on a boulder and just watched the trout revive and then swim off into the the dark green pool until he was completely out of sight.
Bender had dreamed since childhood of accomplishing the task he just completed, landing a near 30 inch trout on a dry fly in New Zealand. Billy felt content, he sat streamside on the boulder for a good 20 minutes , reminiscing about his uncle who use to take him out the the Big Mo near Wolf Creek, teaching Billy the importance of presenting a dry fly with pin point accuracy over a feeding trout. Billys uncle use to say, if you can cast up stream to a feeding fish on the Big Mo, and not spook him, you can do it anywhere. All the years of fishing with his uncle had turned Bender into a world class angler.
About the same time Billy was releasing his accomplishment, Kelly and Jane were just starting their trek on the unbelievably beautiful Able-Tasman trail. The girls donned their backpacks and were pleased to find the trail was around four feet wide of hard packed of white sandstone, completely flat, it was the most friendly hiking trail either woman had ever seen. It was a spectacular morning, a brilliant sunny, warm, windless start of a day that would be etched into their minds forever. Kelly exclaimed,"what a unbelievable place, easy walking, and look at the color of the white sand against the aqua -blue colored bay, unreal!" Jane was in complete agreement, "wow, this is just gorgeous, my goodness, this is a very special place, I'm so glad we decided to do this trek!". The two walked for around two miles until they came upon a small cove of black lava like rocks encompassing a small white beach that was just too inviting to pass up. Both dropped their packs, tore off their clothes and ran down to the aqua -blue water and dove in. The water was cool but not cold, the girls swam, and dove off the rocks, it was a dream spot on a perfect day. Kelly noticed while climbing up on the rocks that on the bottom of the rocks just below the surface were covered with large green and blue mussels, one of the true delicacies that New Zealand is famous. The girls collected a fair bounty and brought the mussels back to the beach and boiled them right there. Kelly had a lemon, some 10 grain bread, and a bottle of white wine in her pack, the two ate like queens, naked on the white sand beach. After eating and drinking to complete fulfillment, the two laid and sunned themselves when Kelly asked Jane about what was going on with her and Billy. Jane sighed and said, "Kelly, I have been in love with Billy for twenty years, we are not together, there must be reason for it. I know Billy loves me too , but something is missing, maybe he is just not ready to get married, who knows, but we made a deal. The deal is that when we both return to the States, we will see how we both feel. Billy says if I want, I could transfer to Great Falls and work for Century 21. The owner is a friend of Billy's , and he said he would hire me in a New York second. So, we'll see, I'm not sure I'm ready to leave Denver and move to Great Fall Montana. So, we just left it up in the air, Billy is not even sure he will be employed with DA Davidson when he returns, there are alot of unknowns". Kelly looks puzzeled , and ask," so whats with this super model?". Jane takes a deep breath and then says," Billy met Ann Hunter on the flight down here, he says they had a real connection, so, he says, he needs to go and see if there really is a connection, or maybe, it was just two ships passing in the night. He doesn't want to have regrets , so he needs to know, I like the fact that he's being honest". Kelly leans in close to Jane and lightly kisses her on the lips, then says "Janie you are so beautiful, I could just eat you!". Jane replies, "Kelly, your a good friend, but I'm not attracted to women, I think we need to get you laid". They both laugh, and Kelly says , "yea, your probably right".
Billy walked back up the path back to his car, he broke down his rod and then put away the rest of his fishing gear, he then drives south towards Christchurch in search of the unknown, is Ann Hunter the one?

Driving on the other side ( PART 17 )

2011-08-30T14:33:00.000-07:00

The three enjoyed breakfast in the large hotel restaurant that over looks Nelson Harbor. Kelly and Jane were both light eaters having toast and handmade jams and local white honey, accompanied by dark black coffee, and hand squeezed orange juice fresh off the tree. Billy on the other hand grew up on a ranch, he was use to eating a real breakfast, ham, eggs lightly tossed, a large slice of honeydew melon, fried bread covered in powdered sugar, dark black coffee, and two glasses of a mixture of breburn apple juice with local fresh orange , in a 50-50 mix. Bender liked the less acidic juice, and it seemed like it was available all over this wonderful lush country.
Kelly cleared her throat , then asked, so, whats the plan? I mean you two seem like it may be like your ready to start all over again, what gives? Kelly was looking straight at Jane when she said this, giving just a glance toward Billy near the very end of her direct question. Jane, using her napkin cleared a small dot of the light colored honey that had paused in the corner and between her perfectly lushes lips, then said, Kelly, we made plans, nothing is going to change, after breakfast you and I are heading to the Able-Tasman trail and we are going hiking. Billy is heading down to towards Christchurch, alone in some kind of pursuit of a Super Model he met on the flight down here. What? Exclaims Kelly, you have got to be kidding me! Billy Bender, the fucking nerve of you, Kelly then adds, excuse my French, but, that is absolutely unbelievable, Jane, this is bullshit! Kelly jumps up, napkin in hand nearly knocking over her chair upon her arise, catching the top of the chair just before it tumbles toward the ground, then throwing her napkin with vengeance atop of the half eaten toast and jams, and turning and walking away pointing a long stiff finger in the direction of Billy and says , you Billy Bender are a real Son of a Bitch. Jane turns to Billy and says in a muffled voice, I didn't know Kelly knew your Mom? They both smile and laugh before Bender says, why is she so mad? You would think I was her ex -boy friend, and not you. Jane turns to Billy and says, she just went through a very ugly divorce, Kelly is very raw, in her eyes all men are evil, I'll explain it to her on our hike. OK says Bender, but please explain it to her in detail, I feel really bad for her and I don't even understand why, Billy adds, crazy.
In the parking lot while loading up their two cars, Kelly stood in the lobby and watched Billy throw the luggage into the trunks, Jane who has not broken a nail in over 15 years, leaned on Billy's Ford and watched. The task complete, Billy and Jane started with a small kiss and goodbye, which quickly escalated into heavy petting and a full makeout scene that was headed toward the hood of Billy's station wagon until Kelly slammed the door of the Land-cruiser she and Jane had been traveling in for the past two weeks, and upon entering screamed, enough already, lets go Janie! Lets go!
The mood broken, Billy and Jane straighten their clothes, Billy holding Jane by her shoulders looked Jane deep into her Sky Blue eyes, then released her, both smiled , then both drove away in two different directions, Jane watched the tail lights of Ford Taurus station wagon fade away .
Billy knew he was at a crossroad of his life, not knowing what the future held, he knew he needed to go forward and see what was around the next corner. The next few weeks would be pivotal in the life of Billy Bender, as he drove south out of Nelson, he came upon a river that was just a perfect size for wade fishing. Billy pulled over to have a look, he did not know the name of the small river, nor at this moment did he care. Large Caddis flies were hatching in the mid -morning sun light that penetrated through the thick green foliage that lined the emerald green meandering stream. Bender could see a few large trout feeding on the edges, when ever one of the unlucky moth like bugs would flutter as it floated over the feeding lane of one of the large hungry trout. It was too much for Bender, he quickly moved to the back of the steel-blue ford and grabbed his Simms vest and his 9'-5 Sage rod and headed down a small trail that would take him stream side. As Billy assembled his gear, he thought of Jane, he also was thinking of Ann Hunter, there was just something about Ann that Billy needed to know more, she seemed perfect for Billy in every aspect. I'll never know unless I try, thought Bender. Billy tied on a # 14 Elk hair Caddis, he took line off his reel, and began to cast to a large brown trout who was feeding on the surface 30 feet up stream along the bank . At this moment the images of both Ann Hunter and Jane faded, all Billy could see were currents, a large rock just up stream from the feeding trout, and the rhythm of the feeding brown opening it's white mouth every ten seconds or so, Bender was focused, he had already thought of what might happen once he hooked the big brown, Bender was in the zone.

Fly Fishing Alone in Alaska (Part 8)

2011-06-13T06:59:00.000-07:00

The Kenectok River was quite an experience, culture shock really, after spending so much time alone fishing on the Igushik River. It seemed strange to be around the vast number of guides, and clients, boats racing around competing for places where the guides felt confident their dudes would be able get into some fish.

It was my first experience in Alaska dealing with such a busy river, the amount of traffic on the Kenectok at times was over whelming, and remember, this was 1985. There was a reason why there were so many guides and clients fishing, the fishing was incredible. On my last day I moved down by the Airport on the lower river to wait for my plane to retrieve me. We did not have a specific time, so I felt it best to be near and fish just around the runway. Within two hours of fishing I landed numerous amounts of salmon, most fresh, just in from the salt. It may have been a strange year, I do not know, but, I remember catching Kings, Chums and Sockeye. It was late summer, but indeed all the salmon were present, even a few “Pinks” were making a showing, and the silver salmon were just starting to inhabit the lower river.

The silvers are a perfect fish for a fly rod; they are very aggressive and will attack a fly. The silvers vary from area to area on size, but, usually they range from 8-12 lbs., and they fight with every pound. The silver’s are great leapers, jumping and attaining air trying to dis-lodge the hooks in their mouths. The very first salmon I caught in Alaska was silver just outside of the Capital Juneau. I just had arrived to Alaska and could not wait to get out fishing, so I hitch–hiked out to a stream well know for its silver run. An Eskimo in his late twenties in an old van picked me up and told me he was just released from prison, and he too wanted to get out and do some fishing. He told me how hard it was for him to be incarcerated, he said he felt like an animal in a Zoo, caged. I offered him a fresh orange, and he declined, saying that he only liked fruit from a can; he said it was just what he was use to eating. This was my first encounter with an Eskimo, little did I know, in a month’s time I would be living just above the Arctic Circle on the Kobuk River teaching and living with Eskimo’s.

We arrived at the creek and there were just a few other fishermen, we were both happy to know that it would not be crowded, and we both assembled our gear and started fishing. The creek was tidal; it was low tide so it made it easy to get the fly in a zone where the fish could see the artificial. The creek itself was only 25 feet across, slow moving, three to four feet deep in the pools, and had a dark amber color, which meanders through a large meadow that is lined with a thick forest of Ceder Trees. Along the creek was huge piles of very pungent, grey bear scat. The bears would eat salmon and walk along the creek depositing what they were eating, and leaving half eaten salmon up and down the sides of the creek. The smell is just awful; it was the only downside to such a remarkable environment to fish.

My first salmon was something I will never forget, for many reasons, but mainly due to the great size of the hard fighting silver salmon. I was using a six weight Sage, and it always makes landing a large fish more interesting when your using an under sized rod, not that I recommend this practice, I‘ve always been one to advocate “right tool for the job”. But, I was not sure of the size of the quarry; I’d just arrived and wanted to catch something, anything. I was using a light sink tip line with some flashy flies I had tied, my new buddy was getting fish on a pixie, he had never seen anybody fly fish before, and thought it looked strange. Just then, I finally hooked up, my sink tip line started screaming off my reel, but due to the dark color of the water I could not tell which direction the line was going. Off to my right, up stream around 70 feet, a huge fish became airborne, shaking and bending like a fish possessed. I pulled up on my line and much to my amazement to find that this beast was indeed at the end of my line. This being a small creek, there is not a lot of room for a fish of this size to run and fight, so it was airborne most of the 15 minutes or so it took to land the beauty. It being my first big fish caught in Alaska, I measured this big male, and it came to 34 inch’s long and had a girth of 26 inches. Weight, who knows , 17, 18 lbs., maybe, it was big, and fought like crazy, and it was my first, yes, I was glad to be in Alaska.

Upon my return to Manokotak from the Kenecktok River, I found a busy Village full of people of all ages, walking, riding four wheelers, kids playing, and the beach full of boats, everyone was back from camp. I’d run into Leroy and he’d said the upper river was full of Silvers, and that everybody was catching them. I couldn’t wait to get up stream and get into the last run of Salmon for the season. My freezer was full of Red salmon, so, I’d only eat fresh fish from now on, or just release them.

My first summer after teaching in Noorvik (Kobuk River), I decided to spend the summer in the Village and fish. This is in Northern Alaska on the Western part of the Brooks Range, just east of Kotzebue. I’d fish on the beach down from where I was living, there were Sheefish, (looks like a tarpon, but fresh water fish that can tolerate estuary water mixing with salt) that would migrate by the Village to spawn up stream. In addition, were the salmon, and, the Pike were everywhere. I had a small boat to move around some, but the fishing was good right off the beach. Here I would catch mainly salmon, but always pike, all sizes; most were around 24 inch’s. After releasing around 20 salmon (Chums), and many pike, I went up to the house to take a rest, when there was a knock at my door. It was an elderly native man who looked puzzled. We drank some coffee, eat some salmon, and then he asked why I throw the fish I catch away. At first, I was confused; I didn’t know what he was saying. Then it hit me, “catch and release” was a concept that was not even in the thought process of a native of this generation. So, I explained that I was releasing the fish to live, and not throwing them away. He stared at me for maybe a full minute, and then he asked, then why do you fish?

I met many people in the days before School started; Stella at the post office would introduce me to folks when I would go in and retrieve my mail. I thought with the rumor mill of the village that everyone knew who I was, but I was wrong.

I couldn’t wait to return to the upper river, it had been my personnel fishing spot for months, and I’d grown quite fond of the environment of the upper Igushik. There were a lot more people on the river, coming and going on the lower and upper river, just more people all over. By the time I reached middle stretch, I was starting to run into boats netting salmon in all the mouths of the channels where the silvers love to rest. They would siegne the slower water and take a net full at a time, most of these fishermen were around my age, but, I’d not met any of this group. In the nets along with the silvers would be huge rainbows and char, I felt sick to see a rainbow of around eight pounds being taken along with the silvers.

I was fishing one of the mouths of a channel and catching quite a few silvers, when one of the boats came right into where I was fishing, and ran a net right through the spot where I was fishing. The three native men were acting quite aggressive, saying nasty things towards me, I felt saddened to see this behavior after spending the whole summer alone fishing the same water. I returned to the village, I’d seen enough of that; it was a different ride back than my normal euphoric frame of mind.

The next day, while walking through the village I ran into the three men I saw the day previous. They apologized, and told me they did not know who I was, and that they had heard that white outfitters were starting to fish the upper river, they thought I was scouting the river. They all turned out to be good guys, they just wanted to protect what they had, and nobody can blame them for that. What the people in the village really did not want, was the same scenario that had taken place on the Kenectok, and Togiak Rivers, with out of state outfitters running up and down their river with wealthy clients, and the people of the village getting nothing, or at least they use to get nothing. I have heard from some of the outfitters today that things have changed, and the outfitters do work with the villages in a positive way.

I have not been back to fish Southwest Alaska for over 25 years, after this school year ended, I took a year of from teaching and traveled and fished in Australia, and New Zealand. It was 1986, the year of the oil embargo, upon my return, I found that there were many cut backs within the schools in Alaska.The schools receive funds from the oil profits generated within the state. There were cut backs for teachers all over Alaska, I decided to head back to Montana and teach and coach there. Instead , I started guiding fly fishermen year round, guiding the summers in Montana, that winter, I was hired as a consultant helping a man start a fishing lodge in the lake district of Chile. This was my introduction to the place and frame of mind they call Patagonia.

(High Water) Missouri River June 9th 2011

2011-06-09T16:17:00.000-07:00

Most of the rivers in the Great Falls area are in Flood stage. This is a photo of the lower "Great Falls". For scale you can see a huge boom crane at the top of the photo.

This is the Great Falls, due to so much water , it does not appear to even be a "Fall".

Throughout the City of Great Falls you can see whole large trees floating in the river.

Despite all the rivers in flood stage, below Holter Dam 40 miles to the south of Great Falls , the Trout and Walleye fishing remain of good quality. The river at Holter Dam today is 13, 500 cfps, this is high , but still very fishable. There is even some dry fly fishing to be experienced limited as it may be until the water temps get to a higher level, and become stable.This should start in a couple of weeks, at this time we will start to see PMD's, Caddis , and the start of the Trico's.

State wide the rivers are going through "run-off", this is one of those special years where the rivers are cleaned by the scouring of all the water charging down stream. This is needed to take out mud and sand that deposit on the bottom of the rivers which inhibit the growth of aquatic insects. In addition , the flooding water erodes many worms of all kinds ( aquatic and terrestrial ) into a free floating stage that makes easy pickings for the fish to gorge and grow quite fast in a short time frame.

Bottom line, yes we have pretty good quality fishing despite all the flooding your reading about , and seeing on the news. The Missouri River is a very special river environment, that resist droughts or flooding, it is one of the most consistent rivers for Trout fishing found anywhere on the planet.

If you have not fished the Missouri, come out and see what all the fuss is about, big, hard fighting, rainbow and brown trout, very fun!

Wormology

2011-05-29T07:55:00.000-07:00

Now, I'm not one to jump on the "worm band wagon" , so to speak, but , State wide we are looking at some record run-off. One of the few rivers that is even fish-able is the Missouri River below Holter Dam . Because of the unusually high water , we are seeing outfitters from across the entire State of Montana descend on towns such as Cascade, Wolf Creek and Craig. Some days due to either rain , or even the warmer sunny days when the snow will melt off from the Rocky Mountain front, one of the Missouri Rivers tributaries the Dearborn River, will expand it's size and flow the color of chocolate milk. Thus entering the main stem and discoloring the river all the way to Great Falls. This puts most of the fishermen floating from Holter Dam to just above where the Dearborn river enters the Missouri, around 12-13 miles of river to fish. Doesn't see so bad, but wait, there is another tributary, Little Prickly Pear which enters the river just below the Wolf Creek bridge, it is 2.5 miles from Holter Dam. This little stream can also throw some real brown mud into the main stem, nothing like the Dearborn, but, the river can be quite discolored making most fly fishing situations difficult at best.
Now the good news, with all this flooding comes erosion, and with the erosion comes Worms, lots of Worms. Earthworms, Aquatic worms, big worms , small worms, skinny worms , fat worms, long worms , short worms, just worms dude!( You thought I was going to River City..anyway...) The trout love worms, they are gorging on worms, even in the high water, high dirty water, trout will eat worms. Are people catching trout on the Missouri River, yes they are, and most people are catching the trout on worms of all kinds... Lets take a look at some of the Worm patterns that seem to produce;

Here are some different types of worms, all of these are tied on different #8 sized hooks, some weighted , some not, but if you notice , they all have tails, making this group # 2 worms. The #1 worms are tailess, thus making tying on another fly attached to the bend of the hook more practical, and the second fly does not spin around as much when being fished, less tangles etc...

These worms are #1 worms, generally pretty heavy, tail-less, bright colored for attraction, and good sized, these are tied on #6 's. With the very high water,and the water being off colored, these flies will produce.The red bead is a large Tungsten bead, very heavy, enabling the fly to get down to the proper levels even with the very high water. In addition to this weight, two additional split shots will be needed usually 4-6 inches from the # 1 worm. When tying on the second fly, I like to use around 12 inches of flourocarbon from the #1 to the #2 fly. The #2 fly can be anything from a zebra midge , Baetis nymph, to another lightly or un-weighted worm. The idea being that the split shots will be on the bottom, along with the #1 fly, the lighter #2 fly will float above in another zone, fishing two different levels can be very important when the water is off color.
Here are some worms that are producing for me, I'm sure other people have their favorites patterns;

Earthworm, #6, Tung bead

Wire worm # 6

The Fat-Tay #6

Hot Bead # 8

Purple Power worm #8

Slim Jim # 8

Eyes got it #8
These are just a few, I'm sure the worms you are using work great. Please do not use hooks larger than #6, the very large hooks can kill the trout, plus most times the smaller worms are the better producers!
It looks like we may have another month of nymphing, so Worm On!

Fly Fishing Alone in Alaska (Part 7)

2011-05-07T12:29:00.000-07:00

The plane landed in the Eskimo Village of Quinhagak, we taxied to the end of the runway that was closest to the river, I un-loaded my gear and started with the assembly of the boat and motor, fishing gear, gas cans etc…It was the first time in months that my inflatable boat had been rolled up and re assembled. I had brought the hand pump so it did not take long to be back in the water and heading up–stream ready for a new adventure. The Kenektok River is a medium sized river, larger than the Igushik, but smaller than most of the well know rivers in the area such as the Nushagak, or the Togiak. It runs with a good flow of current that form nice runs, riffle’s, and seams along small back eddies, and has quite a few Islands with side Channels. The river in the lower and middle stretches is pretty good sized, and thus I preferred to fish in the side channels where the water was smaller and more personnel.

As I started up stream I noticed signs of fishermen, just up stream from the airport there were colorful camping tents mish–mashed on an Island, there was a sign that read “Gone Fishing”. I would find out later that these were new Outfitters just getting started, further upstream were the camps of their competition. The first camp I came upon was the very organized, Dave Duncan & Sons. It was an impressive vision, the camp itself was extremely clean, and had an almost military look to it. There was a row of tan colored Wall tents that were perfectly assembled and displayed, along with the jet boats parked in a perfect angle just in front .There was no question that this group was nothing but professional on all levels, it was what one would expect to find in a first Class fishing camp in Alaska. The camp my friends were working in was the Alaska West Fishing, a very solid Outfit that had a very nice camp with large white wall tents, in a little more relaxed setting, none of the military organization, but first class as well. There was another camp that also ran jet boats just further up stream, but it was small outfit that had a lodge in another area, this was a satellite camp for them.

I was impressed with just how many salmon were in this river, on my assent up stream I was moving huge schools of Kings, Red’s, and Chums. It did not take long to run into a Jet boat (Jon boat with a jet unit); it turned out to be one of my buddies from Montana, “Stew meat”. I’d written to my other buddy there “Clam” and told him I was going to be coming over to check out the fishing, so they knew I might show up. Stew pulled in to have a look at this new guy on the river running in a Boston Whaler inflatable. “Ha, Daly is that you?” “Clam said you might show up, when did you get here?” Stew said that they would be working until about 7:00 or 8:00, and to stop by and get a meal, he said the camp was just a mile or so upstream on the right and I couldn’t miss it.

I fished for salmon for a few hours and was surprised how good of quality the fishing was, hooking all three species and landing a few Char. The kings I landed were smaller, 15-18 lbs., one was bright, and the other was dark red. This was true for the Chums and sockeye as well, a mixed bag of bright and dark fish.

Later that evening I made my way to the camp, it was a nice camp, great food, good atmosphere, well located on the river. Clam, and Stew had just gotten through guiding for the day, so, they were both worn out. We ate some wonderful food, drank some beers and shared fishing stories, until the lights went out. The following day, Clam had a day off and we fished a channel that was well known for the rainbows to eat mice, and thus we fished with mouse patterns. It was a blast, just a down and across dragging a mouse fly, and the wakes would follow until, boom, hooked up. Some of the takes were just sips, but most of the rainbows would really whack the imitation. I had a great time, it was so different from the Igushik, there were so many more rainbows, and the action was pretty steady. I was surprised that fish of this size would eat a mouse, I thought the fish would be larger, most of the fish were between 17-23 inches, good trout, but, when you think of trout eating mice, at least I do, I think of larger sized trout.

Clam showed me places to try while Stew and he were working, for they had to work almost everyday, I was lucky that Clam got a day off while I was there. The following day I was on my own once again, and was ready to explore. I entered a channel that looked excellent, deeper, slower water that ran along a cut bank, with native fish cleaning tables about half way down. This looked fishy; I was just getting into position, when one of the Duncan boats entered the channel, and I pulled up my anchor and floated down to meet him. They were friendly but were curious to who I was , we made quick introductions , and I told him to stay and fish with his clients, I was just out fishing and could go anywhere. Later I ran into the Duncan guide again, he was one of the sons, very nice guy, he had come to thank me, he gave me a black label beer, and we spoke a bit about the fishing, then, we parted ways.

That evening I decided to camp on a gravel bar that had less mosquitoes than places near the alders. I had brought just a two man Eureka tent, green, without the rainfly, just a place to get out away from the bugs, and be able to sleep. It was really small, my feet and head both touched the walls, and there just wasn’t a lot of extra room. One of the things I always had with me while camping out was either a 12 gauge, or, this trip I brought the 45-70, a lever action rifle that also had 500 gr bullets. I preferred this rifle rather than the shotgun, the bullets are faster, more accurate, just more deadly.

I was worn out from fishing, and after eating crawled into my little, green sleeping habitation. I remember sleeping really well, until this horrible smell woke me from the dead. It was such a powerful stench, that even trying to ignore it, I couldn’t, it was so powerful, and I thought maybe I’d been sprayed by a skunk. I was laying in my sleeping bag when I heard this heavy breathing, then something touched my top of my head, there was a sniffing sound, I was frozen for a second, I couldn’t move, it was a bear. It was sniffing my head, its breath was rotten salmon smell, and it was respiring just inches from my head, the only thing between this bear and my head was a very thin piece of nylon. I knew I’d better act fast, I quietly as possible reach over and took the safety off the 45-70, and placed the end of the barrel right up to where the bear was sniffing, I then cocked the hammer. The bear smelling the rifle, and hearing the hammer being cocked jumped back around five to six feet, but he did not leave, I could hear him outside pacing back and forth. I said “Bear, move on, or I’ll kill you, move on, get out, get out! I could hear him running away, so I unzipped the door and peeked outside. I would have thought it would have been a small bear, a young one coming around to investigate this green, nylon, rectangle on this rocky beach. But, the size of the tracks that were all around my tent in the sand told a different story, one of a full grown adult grizzly who was well fed from eating salmon, but, looking for easy human food. It surprised me to find a grizzly so close to a native village, on a river with jet boats running up and down making so much noise. But these bears will feed in the very small creeks, easy pickings for getting salmon, and humans cannot go with their boats.

Needless to say that I did not sleep the rest of the night, I didn’t want to be inside the tent, but the mosquitoes were so bad, I had no choice. My adrenaline was on overtime mode; I just laid in the undersized tent with the 45-70 by my side and waited for the sun to rise and adventures of another day.

Fly Fishing Alone In Alaska (Part 6)

2011-05-01T10:57:00.000-07:00

It was now the end of July and a few folks from the Village were starting to return back home after spending the last two months at camp. Everyday a few more people seemed to trickle back; the village was about ¼ occupied. Stella and Leroy had both retuned for good, the post office was open everyday, along with the co-op store and gas. Most of the returning folks were elders, the younger crowd stayed in camp until just a few days before school started. Then, it was off to Anchorage or some just went to Dillingham to buy clothes for winter, and supplies for school.

The river was much lower in the upper part, I knew how to navigate to about the middle section without any difficulties, but there was no way I could make it back up to the Lake or even close without a jet unit on my Yamaha. By now the big Kings were pretty red in color, the red salmon (sockeye), were just that, very red in color with green heads, and there was another salmon that recently showed, the Chum. This was an excellent fighting fish when caught fresh, silver in color, but it did not take but a week or two before the Chum salmon started changing shape and color. Another name for the Chum is dog salmon, for it changes from bright silver to a calico color, and has large protruding teeth that resemble a dog when growling. The other salmon I did not mention before was the Pink salmon; this is a small salmon that on this year did not show in any great numbers. It is not a great fighter, and changes very fast once it enters fresh water, it becomes flat like a pancake. It is usually canned and sold in stores near the tuna; it is not common to be sold in restaurants for it is not of great quality to consume. Compared to the other salmon, it ranks on the bottom of the scale, the best eating salmon are the red salmon, (Sockeye), or the Kings. The kings have 17% or so that have white meat, restaurants advertise when they have the white colored meat as something special, I have eaten the white king meat on several occasions, and could not differentiate from pink or white meat of the kings, both tasted great to me. A close third would be the silvers, which also have a deep reddish color in their meat, but they usually don’t have the firm flesh as do the kings and sockeye.

I had some friends from Montana that were guiding in a fly fishing camp just over a few Mountain ranges away on a well know river , the Kenektok. I decided to take my boat and motor and spend a few days fishing on a different river, visit with some friends, camp, and fish for the famous Leopard rainbow. The rainbows in this drainage were well know for eating mice, or red backed voles, which were found in great numbers all over the west coast of Alaska. Disney had a famous film I saw about Alaska which they showed hundred’s of what they called lemmings jumping off a cliff, migrating to another area due to over population. Disney took liberties in making such claims, and the creatures in the film were actually voles, a cousin to the lemmings. Nobody has ever seen hundreds of neither voles nor lemmings jumping off of cliffs, but, these mice like mammals do move about when faced with over population, even swimming across rivers to get to new areas. Thus, rainbow trout eat the sometimes weary traveler’s when they do decide to cross the river, and try to find new areas to populate.

I met natives who did not like to eat the rainbow trout, because when they cleaned the trout they would have a mouse or two in their stomachs. With so many other types of fish to eat, some of them thought this was disgusting and would feed the trout to their dogs. I met a native man later in the year during a basketball tournament in the town of New Stuyahok which is located on the upper Nushagak river who told me that he’d caught a 12 pound rainbow that had three mice in it’s stomach when he was cleaning it. He said he would never eat a fish that eat mice, that he thought it was just for the dogs to eat such a fish. It seemed like this man was looking for a reaction from me , and I did not give him the pleasure. It may have been true that he did not like to eat the trout when they had mice in them, but, the dogs eat well, salmon, moose, trout what ever they had the most of at that time.

I had a pilot pick me up and fly me to the village of Quinhagak that is just north of the Village of Togiak. It was a short flight, and the pilot was a fisherman, so he showed me all the great fishing creeks and rivers on our flight, even flying up the Kenektok River to point out channels that fished well with mouse patterns.

It was a very different scene than what I was use to, remember, it was 1984, but here on this river there was a number of fishing camps , and they were run by whites from the lower 48, outsiders, running up and down the river in jet boats. This was my first exposure to this scene, all the other rivers I’d fished up until now were very quiet, no outfitters running back and forth in jet boats. Here I would not be Fly Fishing alone by any means, but rather trying not to get into the way of the outfitters taking their clients fishing who were paying big money to be there.

Welcome To Montana, or Cliff Jumper

2011-05-01T07:40:00.000-07:00

When I was attending the U OF M in Missoula Montana in the late 1970’s, I decided to go for a soak in Jerry Johnsons hot springs; it was in the middle of winter. In those days I drove an old powder blue Toyota Land Cruiser with a white soft top. The night before, it had snowed all night and left around two feet of heavy, wet snow on the pass at Lolo. That morning was spectacular, there was not a cloud in the sky, and it was a "Big Blue Sky" winter day, all the trees completely covered in their finest "whites".
From the top of Lolo pass , the view was endless on this crisp, sunny, cloudless January morning, looking down on the Lochsa River valley and into Idaho from the Montana side .The only creature's stirring were the long tailed black and white magpies, flying in small flocks scavenging for food. I was thinking how the road had not been a problem, and how just maybe, it would be in good condition all the way to the hot springs. The road had been plowed on the Montana section, but, I soon found out on my descent, that was not the case on the Idaho side. There were two tracks breaking through the fresh snow showing signs of other life. But, these turned off at the Forrest Service station , about two miles down the steep, "long and winding road", now I was the trail blazer , heading straight into the largest wilderness area in the lower 48 states.
I was tentatively meeting up with some friends at the hot springs, I thought, wow, great; we will have the hot springs to ourselves. And, in the back of my mind, I had the Calvary coming in case I got stuck, or something happened. I was moving through the snow, slowly, but, under control, and thought the road was not in that bad of condition, despite breaking through two feet of fresh wet, snow. From the top of Lolo pass to the hot springs, it is all down hill, the first part of the descent is quite steep, then in levels somewhat , and then, there is a section where the road is very steep once again, and curvy, until, there is just a gradual slope all the way down to the hot springs. By the time I reached the second steep part of the decline, I'd felt like I'd been through the worst, and it would be smooth sailing the rest of the way. About that time my Land Cruiser started sliding, I was of course going down hill, due to the curves in the road, the sun had not penetrated this section, and there was "black ice" below the two feet of fresh snow. I had not seen one other car since I'd entered Idaho, behind me, nor in the other lane going to Montana. So, I knew I had both lanes to slide, and try and slow to a point where I could gain control. It was steep; I was not slowing, but felt like I was gaining speed, countering every slide, I was literally "all over the road". It was a completely helpless feeling, my mind was reeling, and trying to figure a way to slow down and gain control, when I noticed this section had no "guard rails". Shit, I thought, stay on the right side at all cost, because on the left side of the road was a drop-off of at least 1000 ft. straight down to the Lochsa River. I tried to use the brakes, pumping them, not wanting to "lock them" and be completely out of control, this wasn't working, and it was pure black ice below the snow. If I could ram alongside something, that would slow me down I thought, but being out of control, it was hard to choose a tree, or hillside to ram alongside. Funny, when you’re going uphill, you can accelerate to straighten out, just taking your foot of the gas will slow you down; it is not the case when you’re going downhill on ice. I tried to spin the Land Cruiser around, accelerating, so I could face uphill and maybe drive up hill and gain control. The acceleration spun me in a 360*, and increased my speed, I was really helpless , thinking the worst case scenario, I was alone in the middle of nowhere, it was cold, January, I had not seen another person in the last 40 minutes, chances were that I was going to have to wreck the Land Cruiser to have some kind of a chance to survive, I did not want to go over that cliff on the left side of the road, that was death for sure, nobody could survive a 1000 ft. drop. I kept with the counter steering, pumping the brakes and thinking. I'd gone over a mile down hill sliding out of control, I had to do something, so, I decided to try and slide near the right side edge of the road, the snow was thicker there and maybe the friction would slow me. It worked, I was starting to slow down, ahh, what a relief, now I had a chance, I thought, when I hit another patch of ice, I was sliding sideways on the edge of the highway right toward the drop off, another cliff. My decision was swift, I knew I did not want to "roll off" the cliff, death was imminent; I knew I'd have to steer the soft topped vehicle straight down the hill and hope for the best. It was not a cliff like on the right side of the road, but it was very steep and treed. I steered the 4-wheeler nose first down the cliff, the best I could and kept the Land Cruiser straight until I hit the extra large bumper, smashing against a Tamarack tree with around a 20 inch diameter. I can still remember sitting in my rig, thinking, I'm in one piece, alive, what a ride that was! My vehicle wasn't that bad, I'd torn holes through the top in three or four places, my windshield was cracked, but not all broken, it could have been much worst! And, I wasn't hurt, I felt OK, no blood, no broken bones, that was lucky!
I got out, and looked up to see the path, it was around 200 feet to the road, and there were many smaller trees I'd driven over, some where not that small. In the path I'd driven over trees with diameters of two to four inches, not exactly twigs. I was walking uphill toward the road when I heard a voice " Are you alright?", it was a Idaho State Trooper, he was bent over and had his hands around his mouth, " stay there, don't move" , "I'm coming down" he said. I'm fine, I said, really lucky! He was moving fast sliding in the snow until he reached me. The trooper was only a few years older than me, I'd guess 25 or so. He had a buzz cut, tall, lanky fellow that appeared nervous. I reassured him that I was OK, you sure? He asked again, yaw, I'm fine; I think I had to say this around ten more times before he believed me. We then had to discuss what had happened; this all took place down where the Land Cruiser was pinned against the tree. He then asked, how would you like to get this rig out of here? I said, what do you think a tow truck? The trooper asked me if I did not mind paying $ 500 to get a tow truck. Shit, I said, that’s a lot of $. That is when the trooper suggested that I could drive it back up the cliff. I was shocked, drive it up the cliff? I don't think it will make it, it's pretty steep. The trooper said he had four sets of chains that would fit on my tires, "we can give it a try”, "I think it will go up this cliff with all tires chained up and in low gear" said the trooper. And so we did, Not only did I drive off a cliff that day, but, I drove up a cliff the same morning. After hours of cutting trees, and clearing rocks, some how the taggered Land Cruiser rumbled its way back to the top of the hill and back on the highway.
I was pretty shook up after all this, and knew I still had to drive back to Missoula, but, felt I was very lucky to be driving back. I couldn't thank the Trooper enough, Man; thank you so much for all your help, that was great, thank you, thank you, just then the young law man turned and said, "Your welcome, but this is for you". It was a ticket for reckless driving, I was shocked, what, a ticket? Are you kidding? I hit black ice, I skidded for over a mile down hill, I was only going 40 mph, and I kept from going over on the right side and dying! There are no guard rails! I could have died! Now you’re giving me a ticket? You have to be joking? The trooper said, "I'm just doing my job, write to the judge if you have a problem" .
I did indeed write to the Judge and explained the dangers of Idaho wilderness roads with the lack of "Guard Rails", and just what could happen. Today, you will see guard rails in this part of the road, and, the judge through out the case against my "ticket".
I drove back to Missoula that afternoon very slow and cautious, I was never more glad to see the big blue sign on top of Lolo pass that says "WELCOME TO MONTANA".

Driving on the Other Side (Part 16)

2011-04-30T07:51:00.000-07:00

Kelly awoke early (6:00am) to a stunning day; the sun was penetrating into her room, even at this early hour in New Zealand after a big rain storm the entire landscape seems to sparkle like it is saturated in diamonds. After having a restful night, she was ready to continue on her journey south, Kelly and Jane both agreed they would make it all the way south to Stewart Island, New Zealand's third Island. Then, upon their return to Denver they could say they saw New Zealand from tip to tip.

It had been two weeks since the final settlement came in from Kelly’s divorce, Kelly felt like she had come out of this dreadful process in pretty good shape. Her ex was more than willing to give Kelly all what he had left of his Stock portfolio, since it had tanked more than 65%. Kelly knew these were all Blue Chip stocks, and what ever happened with the world economy, these giants would rise from the rubble, and once again take their place in the world’s landscape. Kelly was also rewarded one million dollars in cash, for this her ex was able to keep their homes in Denver and Aspen, both worth a fraction of their value a few years prior. All their belongings, art, cars, jewelry etc… was split 50/50, both agreed, and it was done. All Kelly wanted was to get away, forget about the past eight months, and just disappear.

Since the Real estate market was so slow at this time of the year in Denver, Kelly asked Jane to join her, everything paid for by Kelly, she just wanted a friend to join her on a getaway to paradise, some place very far away, someplace where it would be summer. The travel agent suggested New Zealand, “hiking, river trips, fishing, and she said the seafood and wines were to die for, perfect place to clear your head”, she said. Kelly thought having Jane along would also be helpful in the men department. Jane was one of those women who from an early age was noticed by the opposite sex, gawked at really, men just starred at her to be frank about it. Men just seem to appear from no where when Jane was there, she never had to open a door, or carry her luggage, or even pull her own chair to be seated, out of nowhere a guy would appear, ready to help her, push her chair in for her. Kelly had never seen anything like it, Jane Greenfield is like “honey to bees, light to a moth,” she is a man magnet. Kelly was ready for being a little wild after all the stress from the divorce, and with the constant on slaught of men coming forth to try a seduce Jane, there were always a few “left overs”, and Kelly wasn’t complaining, she was far from home and Kelly was ready for some fun. But, what are the odds of Jane running into her “love of her life”, all the way down here in New Zealand, on my getaway thought Kelly. What would happen now, are the three of us going to travel together, or, are they planning to go off together, I‘d better get to the bottom of this Kelly thought to herself. She dressed and headed down stairs to get some coffee, and find out just what transpired last night between Billy and Jane, I’d find out where we stand, thought Kelly. For Kelly had heard plenty about Billy Bender for the last five years from Jane. All of the attention that Jane received from men in general meant nothing to Jane, she cared for one man , and that man, was who she was in bed with exactly this moment.

Kelly took the map down stairs to plot the route that her and Jane would take south on their way to the bottom on New Zealand. They had discussed hiking the Able –Tasman trail, and they both wanted to hike the Milford Track, which the travel agent said was a must. They both had read and seen photos about the hike through the New Zealand Alps, and just how spectacular it was suppose to be, both agreed, it was in fact a must. Kelly’s mind was on about mile 22 on the Milford track when she was brought back to reality with the sound of “good morning”, Jane and Billy were just joining Kelly for breakfast, and they both looked famished…

Driving on the other side .. Part (15)

2011-04-24T10:27:00.000-07:00

Wellington , New zealand

In the bar the drinks came in groups of three, all martini’s, Jane was indulging in the colorful Cosmo, Kelly's poison was the Apple martini, and Billy went traditional, with a dirty martini with four olives. Billy found out that Jane and Kelly worked together at Century 21 selling Real estate in Denver Colorado, and that they both started the same week five years earlier. Jane said ,“The market is at an all time low, things are just not moving unless you count the foreclosed homes, and they are selling for pennies on the dollar, it is a horrible time to be in Real estate, tough times”. Bender put his head down with a look of distress on his face and said,” I know, I know, I’m still working at DA Davidson’s main branch in Great Falls, or , I think I am, I’ll find out in a couple of weeks.” Jane asks “why, what’s going on?” Bender replies, “We can talk later, I’ll get through it”. So, Kelly what made the two of you end up all the way down here in New Zealand, (trying to include her in conversation). Kelly half laughs and says, “Well, I just got divorced, and thank god, I got half of the son of a bitch’s money”. Bender, “oh, I see, sorry to hear that”. Kelly asks, “ You mean about the money, or the divorce, Oh I’m sorry, I need to get to bed and leave you two at it, I feel like such a third wheel”.

After Kelly says good night and heads up stairs to her room, Billy and Jane decide to go to Billy’s room, as Jane says, “To talk, nothing more, right buster?” Bender smiles and says, “Of course, nothing more, it has been ages since I’ve seen you, we need to catch up”. Jane turns to Billy as she put her coat on, “Billy Bender you will never change, I really did love you, I really wanted to be Mrs. Bender, but here you are 38 and still single, I don’t think I ever had a chance”. Bender smiles and say, “ You’ll never know just how close you came that summer in 1995 when all of us were up staying on Flathead lake. Remember, all the tents, sprawled everywhere, all over the lawn, beach, and the backyard of the Hollister’s property. Thank god Jacks parents didn’t come up that weekend, that would have been a mess, can you imagine?” Jane’s mood softens, she smiles and puts her arms around Billy’s neck, the cosmos are kicking in, Jane looks Billy directly in the eyes and says, “Kiss me Billy, quit talking and kiss me”. The two of them left the bar not saying a word , Billy pulled the key from his pocket, it was room 223, Bender hadn’t even un packed, and the couple stumbled their way upstairs, to talk , nothing more…

Driving on the Other Side...(Part 14)

2011-04-23T17:19:00.000-07:00

Driving on the Other Side… (Part 14)

By the time Tom and Billy returned to his home near the bridge that crossed the mighty Rangitikei, Bender was ready to move on further south. Being alone for two nights, and indulging in the “red bud” did not help Billy in forgetting about Ann Hunter. Bender knew he needed to make some head way and get much further south, and maybe not even fish until he reached the Northern part of the South Island. Bender thanked Tom for everything, for allowing him to experience such a wonderful part of New Zealand, and to be part of fishing an area that few people would ever know. Bender told Tom he would see him upon his return in a few weeks, and maybe then the two of them might be able to float and fish the Rangitikei. Billy in his haste forgot to call Ann that evening, and instead drove for hours to reach the Capital, Wellington. When Billy arrived it was hard to see the road due to the sheets of rain pounding the black top, Billy was having a difficult time staying on the road.

The capital is a clean, organized, for a city, but lacks the old charm that you find in Auckland. Wellington is all about government, and has a military presence, ship shape, mate! Billy wanted nothing more than to get over the South Island, but, the ferry was delayed until the storm would pass. Some of the heaviest seas found on the planet are found at times between the North and South Islands in New Zealand, the ferries are huge ocean going ships, nothing small about them.

Bender decided to spend the night and travel in the morning, so he checked into a hotel close to the ferry terminal. Upon checking in, he noticed a couple of attractive women who appeared to be Americans. They were smartly dressed, and Bender thought they were around their mid-thirties, no older. When one of the beauties flashed a huge, warm, inviting smile at Billy, and then across the room yelled, “ Billy Bender, is that you?” As soon as Bender heard the voice he knew who the Buxom Blonde was in an instant, it was Jane Greenfield, from Billings Montana. Jane and Billy went to MSU together, and dated off and on for two years, Bender starting thinking of all the fun they had together during those two “off and on” years, and Billy mainly thought of the “on” periods. As Billy walked across the lobby of the hotel to become re-acquainted with Jane, he could remember her in detail, completely naked, for Jane Greenfield in Billys mind was a sexual goddess, he could not think of one physical flaw on this women’s torso, she was stunning. Jane was 5ft 7; she has dark honey colored straight and long hair that reaches the middle of her perfectly arched back. Big blue eyes, that seem to sparkle when she smiles, her teeth are naturally white, but so white they take on a hue of light blue. Jane had an unforgettable figure, once you saw her, you would never forget her, for she had a remarkable 40 DD chest, a tiny waist and again a good sized trunk, that was firm and well rounded. Barbie Dolls wish they looked this good, and Jane was very nice, she was thoughtful, kind, a good friend, people liked Jane, she was well thought of by many who Billy knew from College.

The problem with Jane and Billy was, that Jane wanted to marry Billy while they were in school, she insisted on it, not wanting to loose Billy, Jane figured marriage was the only solution. Billy Bender in college was not going to get married, period. Even for this wonderful woman, he just wasn’t ready; it was not in the cards.

Billy’s mind raced as he reached out to hug Jane; it had been ten years since the two of then ran into each other in Great Falls at dinner one night. “Oh Billy, it is amazing to run into you here in Wellington New Zealand of all places”, came from a very excited Jane Greenfield. “Jane so wonderful to see you, here or anyplace “, said the all too happy Bender. “ Billy, let me introduce to you, to my partner Kelly McGrath”, came from the mouth of Jane, Kelly is a redhead , who is tall , thin, and seemed somewhat the quiet type and she had her arm was inter- locked with Jane's. Bender was stunned, Billy felt like someone just sucker punched him in the stomach, he felt light headed, and then he remembered he must keep smiling no matter what. Judy and Kelly stood looking at Bender just smiling to see his reaction; Billy was really trying, but was floundering like a fresh caught halibut flopping on the bottom of the boat. Finally, Jane said, “just kidding, ha, you should have seen your face” and both Jane and Kelly had a good laugh. After, the three of them headed to the bar, two of the three to catch up on times they had both missed, the other, Kelly, would retire early and get a good nights rest.

Fly Fishing Alone In Alaska ( part 5)

2011-04-23T10:18:00.000-07:00

Fly Fishing Alone In Alaska (Part 5)

I had fished for these same King Salmon for up to a week or so, and found that very large rainbow trout had moved in and held in position five yards or so, down stream from the giants of the river. The rainbows did not stay still, but rather, moved about the entire pool in search of spawning salmon, and sculpins that were large compared to the sculpins found the lower 48. These were also known as “bullheads”, due to the very large heads and gill plates in proportion to their bodies, which were six to seven inches in length. Some of the sculpins were smaller, a few larger, but, most were under 10 inch’s in length. The rainbows would chase after the sculpins and stir quite a ruckus around the very large spawning beds of the King Salmon. When this would take place, all hell would break out, with Salmon chasing out the rainbows, rainbows chasing after the sculpins, and the sculpins looking for shelter under the bellies of the Kings, it was very similar to a dog, cat, mouse scenario, you would find in a cartoon.

The rainbows were nice sized trout , some reaching sizes of eight pounds or so, with the average around four pounds, all in good shape, fat and healthy, with very prominent red stripes adorning both sides of the silvery trout. The backs of the rainbows were usually the same shade as the bottom of the river, to help then blend in from a birds view from above. The two birds that were attracted to the river for it’s temporary visitors, the salmon and char, were the Eagles and Osprey, which were found all through the river system.

The flies I was now using were not to hook the salmon, but rather the trout, and Charlie and Dolly Varden, who have been following the salmon since they entered Bristol Bay. Charlie and Dolly are also know as Char, highly prized for their orange flesh and high fat content, these fish are common to be part of a shore lunch. Their size varies from drainage to drainage, I’ve actually caught some very large char in the state of Washington that were over ten pounds while Steelhead fishing. These on the Igushik were smaller, three to seven pounds for the most part; average I’d guess around three to four pounds.

Up to this point , I had not made it all the way up to Lake Amanka, which the river is born, but thought I ‘d better do it soon because the river was dropping everyday, and I’d heard from a pilot friend it would be difficult at best conditions using a prop instead of a jet unit on my engine. After catching some nice rainbows using large sculpin patterns in the main pool that morning, I decided to try and make a run at getting to the Lake.

It was now Mid –July, and I had been fishing all alone since I’d started fishing six weeks earlier, I had not seen anybody the entire time. My only sightings of life were of course all the fish, birds, the Osprey, Eagles , ducks, an occasional falcon, ruff legged hawks, huge Owls, Herron’s , flickers, camp robbers, and many small finches. I would see the occasional bear walking along the river, and I did not have problems with any, with the exception of this day. I would see Moose on a daily basis, feeding in the willows and swampy areas, feeding like cattle, staring, while chewing their cuds. I had motored up stream further than I had previous, new area, new water, a day of exploration, and found that it was difficult traveling . The reason was that the river was braided up near the top, which made the river very shallow, and the only time I could stay on plane was when the river was in its entirety, or else, I would have to get out and walk the boat through the shallows. Jump back in, go as far as I could, then get out and drag it over the shallows again and again. It was a travel day for the most part, but I really enjoy exploring a new river or, a new section of a river, even though, the pace was slow, and dragging the boat was not something I wanted to do everyday, it was a lot of work. The river looked the same with the Fur, Spruce and Aspens lining the river bank, but the difference was in the current. It was a faster current up near the top, just below the Lake. Until I came upon a large flat run that was similar to the run I was spending so much time fishing for the Kings and trout. I did not notice at first, but there was a tower man made, directly above the river. In the tower was a women, this struck me as being very odd, what was this, I thought? Now, to be fair, here I was, in black neopreams, with a 45.cal strapped on my side, carrying a 12 gauge pump shotgun, dragging a boat up stream. Then I heard the women say, “That’s far enough”. I introduced myself, and then she knew who I was, “OK, she said, I’ll come down” her name was Beth. This gal was a fish counter, flown in to sit and count fish all day to make sure enough were getting through the nets at the mouth of the river to ensure enough salmon spawning to continue the runs. She told me she had seen me in Dillingham, and she was told that I was OK, and that in fact she would most likely run into me on the river. As Beth and I were speaking a plane flew over and landed in the Lake, it was her “pick up”, to head back to town. It was pretty late when we said good bye, and I thought I’d better start heading back, I had a long way to go to reach the village. It must have been around 9:00 pm or around there when I started my journey back down stream; it was slow going due to my inability to see due to the glare on the surface of the water that looked like oil.

Beth and the pilot flew over, dipped a wing to say good night, and they headed back to Dillingham, while I had a good two more hours of travel before I would be back to my digs in the village. I was dragging my boat through one section of the river that was very shallow, when I heard a deep, loud, powerful grunt. I knew the sound immediately, it was a large grizzly, male, a loner, looking for a meal, or maybe I was in his fishing spot. I dropped the rope of my boat; I took the safety off the 12 gauge pump, filled with five shells with 500 grain slugs. I took a step forward toward the bushes where the grunt had come, making sure I had good footing in the river, the last thing I wanted to do is slip at a time like this. I was ready, at these moments, one needs the whole world to be focused on just these few seconds, and I was ready. The bushes were no further than 40 yards away, maybe closer, I could see him walking parallel with the river bank just a few yards into the alders and aspens, looking over to check me out, size me up, he was trying to decide what to do. I yelled over to him, “Hey Bear move on! Get out of here! I don’t want to kill you, get out! Go On!” He was pacing, back and forth, I had not moved the entire time, and I was holding my ground. His pacing had increased in speed, he was nervous, I was thinking he would most likely try a false charge, I was ready, if he kept coming I’d have to unload on him, I didn’t want to, but there was no question , I would kill him. The big male stood up to get a better look over the alders, he was a good sized grizzly, 7-8 footer, tall but lean, pretty bear, very light colored , almost yellow in places. As he stood up, I moved toward him yelling, “Get out of here, get bear, and go on!” He was breaking branches on tress as he quickly retreated into the forest. I heard him grunt a few times more, and then he was gone. I got in my boat, and decided to float down until I was in Familiar River, where I could then fly out on plane, I knew the middle section so well by now I could do it in the dark.

On my trip home that evening I saw two other bears, both that ran when they heard me running the boat on plane. I thought how the appearance of the bears had now thrown yet another element into Fly Fishing alone in Alaska. I fished on many rivers all over Alaska, I never did have to kill any bears, and I had some who made false charges at me, but always stopped, and moved away. Most of the bears I saw, usually were curious to what I was doing , they would sit in the grass and watch me Fly Fish, but , I never did have to, not one time had to shoot a bear.

On the way home, I noticed I was getting very low on gas, this took place down in the marshy area of the river, and I stopped to see if I had remembered to bring the second tank. Luckily it was there buried under all the gear. I couldn’t hook up the second tank fast enough; the mosquitoes were terrible in the marsh at this time of night. Then of course being alone the question arose, what would be worse, being out of gas and stuck out in the Mosquitoes all night, or if that bear had decided to attack? My answer was, neither, I wanted to go home, get a cold beer, eat some red salmon and rice, and sleep in my own bed!

Fly Fishing Alone in Alaska (Part 4)

2011-04-17T11:18:00.000-07:00

(Happy unknown angler with a huge King)

Fly Fishing Alone in Alaska (Part 4)

It was a strange sensation to return to the Village after fishing, only to find it completely empty. It was like living in a ghost town, all the 60 houses or so, empty, no noise, no children playing, no 4-wheelers racing about, just the sound of the wind. In some ways I’d have to say, it was quite nice, though, I knew I’d need to go to Dillingham at least one night a week to get a meal, and a drink and get to know some of the locals. It was easy. I’d just call Manokotak Air, and just like a taxi, a plane usually a Cessna 206, would come, buzz by my house to let me know they were there, and take me to town. Once in town, I’d either walk, or take real taxis to the bar just outside of town. This was the social scene, full of fishermen, white and native, depending on the night usually a 50-50 mix. The female population was made up of about 80% native, there was around 10-15% white cannery workers who only stayed for the summers, and the rest were females who wintered and worked in Dillingham year round, a very small percentage back in the early 1980’s.

At the bar you could meet pilots of all types, some who worked for the small charter companies, and others who flew for the different fishing lodges, some were fish spotters for the big canneries, and even others who worked for the Government in one form or another. The pilots were a good group of guys, and it was through these encounters is where I learned about the great places to fish around the Dillingham area. The pilots know where the great fishing rivers are, and where in the rivers that are the most productive sections, they are a wealth of knowledge. One of the questions asked to pilots in Alaska by other pilots is; have you crashed yet? The word “yet” is a given, all pilots in Alaska crash, most just walk away un-hurt, some get hurt, a few even die, but they will all crash, or they quit. When you know this, it becomes apparent why this group of men and women, act as wild as they do.

I flew back to the village the next day after spending the night in town to find a few folks down at the beach re-fueling their boats. It was a few middle aged native men, they had heard I was there fishing, and knew that I was the new science teacher and coach. They wanted to know how many fish I was seeing up river, they said they were catching quite a few and wanted to make sure that enough were getting by their nets to ensure that there would be plenty for the next year. They also informed me that they had started catching “Kings”, the week before and they should be some up- river any day now.

It was now mid- June, very warm , and the days were at there longest , it seemed like the sun never did set, but it does, just for a short time, but it does go down. The mention of the King salmon caught my attention, one reason was the fact that I had developed a series of flies the summer before to catch the closed mouth Kings. It was the time when Flash-a-bou had just been put out in all the fly shops. This is a fine, long tinsel like fly tying material that comes in just about any color, including Pearl (mother of Pearl). I had developed some very flashy “Tarpon Style“ flies tied on 3/0 hooks, just to see if I could figure a way to catch the kings on a consistent basis. I’d caught some Kings on flies, but never consistently, most of the pilots I’d met said they had not heard of anybody doing very well catching kings with flies, they all said the same thing, “Pixies”, that’s what works.

That day I headed up-river in search of the mighty King Salmon, and found some milling around in the small lake, so I knew they were around, but, it was way to weedy in the lake to try and fish for them. I moved further up stream to the middle section only to find the perfect scenario. It seemed too good to be true, but the Kings were holding in a long, flat, straight run that was a huge tail out. It was perfect; this glide was around 100 yards long and around 70 feet wide. The depth was around 3 feet to five or maybe six feet at the deepest. Both sides of the pool were lined with Fur trees, intermixed with Aspens; the Fish must have felt secure and not too exposed. The bottom, was small to medium sized gravel, the flow of the current was consistent from bank to bank, and there were no boulders, nor logs to get in the way, and the water was crystal clear. It was a perfect place to experiment with different flies, methods, and lines, leaders, etc… The Kings seemed to have their own territories within the pool, there were around 20-30 pairs of large kings, males and females. Later I’d see that some moved up –stream to spawn in another area, but around 20 pairs stayed for the duration.

The first day I was in a frenzy, I motored my boat quietly to the top of the run just at the bottom of a long straight rapid, dropped anchor, and fished from the front of the boat, trying to stay low not to spook the over sized Salmon. I was fishing with a Hi-D sinking tip that turned out to be too heavy for the shallow water, I was fine swinging the fly across the pool, but, would catch bottom on my retrieve back to the boat, and the hooks would become dull. I switched line to an intermediate sinking line, and this turned out to be perfect, I could see the flies in the water , due to the clarity, and thus could see exactly where the position of the flies were in regards to the position of the salmon. Here is what I found; if I swung the fly to close to the Salmon, it would move away, it did not react well to a fly moving towards it. But if I swung the fly say three feet above the fish, it would move to the fly, sometimes taking it, but would always react to the fly, depending on what fly I using, colors and size was being the two most important features, and these seemed to be what would trigger the King into taking.

The first day I landed two jack Salmon, small first year kings, that are really good to eat, and I killed them both, and had one for dinner that night. They were around five pounds apiece, but this was not what I was after, the majority of the Kings in this run were fish from 25-75 pounds in weight. Most of the Males were in the 40-50 lb. class, with just a few real monsters, but, all these fish were just out of the Salt water, very bright in color, (silver), and full of fight. After seeing a number of fish follow the fly’s I was trying, I finally put on a fly that had just a bit of flash, and was a size smaller than I was using prior. This was the ticket, the big kings would take this fly, in the clear water, and I think the other flies were just too flashy. This fly that did work was more subtle, they were not afraid of it, and ate the fly pretty consistently. I landed three of the Kings that day; one was close to 50lb. the other two were females that were smaller in the 25-30 lb. . Range, but, all fought like crazy in the shallow water, jumping very high and making very long persistent runs, hard to control. I’m sure the Rod I was using was a Scott 9 ft. for a 9 line, this was a strong rod, but, it was just a tad light to control the fresh Kings. I had this rod stolen in Chile in 1987, another story about another time….

Fly Fishing Alone in Alaska ( Part 3 )

2011-04-16T10:14:00.000-07:00

{Fly Fishing Alone In Alaska ( Part 3 )}

Late May in Alaska has gruelingly long nights if you are not set up for somehow blocking out the insistent sunlight. The sun actually sets for only a few hours, the sunset is prolonged for most of the evening, until it does in fact set, and with the glow in the Eastern part of the sky, welcoming the sun once again to begin it’s climb high in the northern sky, where it will be perched most of the day and evening. My bedroom was on the western part of the building, and it being my first evening, I was not prepared for the onslaught of sunlight penetrating into my new digs. With no AC, and not wanting to fill the room with mosquitoes, it was not only the light that kept me up most of the night, it was the stifling stagnant air, and staggering heat. Most of the evening and through the night I sat up and watched the sun hover on the horizon, just above the Mountains where the following morning I would venture for the first time to explore the upper river.

I got up early and prepared for the days outing, food, water, all the fishing equipment, ( rods, flies, waders, vest, camera, sunscreen, 12 gauge shotgun, double 00, and slugs, 45.cal pistol, lots of ammo, this part of Alaska has coastal grizzlies that get quite large, 10 footers, 1000 pound bears, big ones!)
OK,feeling better, getting organized. I had the boat in the water the day before, I had two canisters of gas, and I felt all set.

The river is Tidal, which means even in front of the Village its level raises and falls. This leaves a lot of mud, the water is clear somedays, but with a rising tide it can be quite off color. What I wanted to do is go up stream to get out of the tidal section , where the river would flow clean and clear and have current, and have character, pools, runs, islands, side channels, tail outs etc… I had no idea how far that would be to find the section of the river out of the tidal section, everything was new, and everything was the big unknown. It was also the first day in my new boat, 14ft. Boston Whaler inflatable with a 25 HP Yamaha , prop. The guy at the store tried to sell me a jet unit instead of a prop, which would have made life quite a bit easier, live and learn I say. After about the first five minute of the journey, I had to add air to the boat, the water was quite cold and due to the cold water the boat would contract. The floor was wood and hinged in the middle, when the boat was firm with adequate air, the floor was firm, when the boat needed air and was soft, the floor would buckle. So, it was vital to keep the boat firm and full of air. Once the boat stabilized with the water temp, everything was fine, and the whaler would catch plane and fly.

It is quite a feeling to be on a river that you know absolutely nothing about, everything is new and exciting, the bird life along the way had Marsh hawks, and Herons, red winged blackbirds, and so many different types of ducks , it was hard to keep tract. It was a windless sunny morning, which just added to the over whelming beauty of the marsh land. Cutting turns with the whaler was big fun; this lower part of the river is smooth, wide, and gentle, perfect for breaking in a new boat and motor.

The river after some miles was beginning to change character, I noticed the water was starting to clear, and shallow up, the land was becoming more treed, I was leaving the marsh and entering the beginning of the forest, the mountains where not too far off, and then I came upon a small lake. I wasn’t sure what this was at first, the lake was part of the river, it was the end of the tidal section of the river forming this weedy, clear water lake that seemed to be of around 5-8 acres, you could see the river flowing into the

area forming this small lake. Here I for the first time could see fish, schools of salmon milling around in the lake, fresh salmon, very bright and silver, just up from the bay. I had to try and fish, but this lake was extremely shallow, and the salmon seem to ‘spook” quite easily. On my first cast I noticed that the salmon which appeared to be Red or Sockeye would move away from the fly and did not have the least bit of interest. But, on the retrieve back to the boat, a nice sized Pike drilled the fly without hesitation. I released the pike, and made another cast, again another pike slammed the fly, it was also released, and this continued for the next 10- 15 minutes, until my fingers became sore and cut taking the fly’s from the pikes mouth. OK , I felt like this was indeed a great pike spot , but that was enough pike fishing for one day, I wanted trout, rainbow trout to be exact, so I slowly made my way though the shallow weedy lake and headed up stream.

The upper river is crystal clear water, with a good current and I would say it would be considered a small river, or a very large creek. The upper part is heavily forested with Furs and lodge pole pines, inter mixed with Aspens, and other deciduous hardwoods. The river is falling from a large lake on a good gradient, and at spots close to the lake has a very strong current and rapids. Other sections have large flat spots in the river with small to medium sized gravel bottom, perfect for spawning salmon. This day I made it as far as the middle section that has many islands and channels, and parts where the river is in its entirety making travel with the boat quite easy.

I could see many small groups (a dozen or so) in number of red salmon moving cautiously upstream, the water was so clear you could tell the males from the females. I got out of the boat, and watched, hidden behind bushes on some of the small islands to observe the behavior of the red salmon migrating upstream, here is what I observed; these small groups of salmon would wait to move when entering a new area. It appears that each small group had a male leader, or guide, who would in fact journey up stream alone to make sure that path, was safe and clear. Once he found that in fact the coast was clear, he would then return and gather the group and he would lead the group to the next area, where the whole process would begin again. I was having very little luck in catching the salmon when they were in the waiting stage, but found that the male guide or leader salmon was in fact quite aggressive toward a fly (a bunny, or woolly bugger, even a sculpin). The trick was to cast the fly and let it sink to the bottom before the Leader salmon entered the area and wait until he was close, then raising the fly just in front of him and moving the fly slowly in front of the large male sockeye. Almost every time this would work, the big males would aggressively take the fly. It was great for me because these were the largest and strongest of the red salmon. If you have not had the pleasure of hooking a fresh, large, male sockeye salmon in shallow water, it is really something, they really rip. The key is fresh sockeye, dime bright , these fish are a far cry from the red colored older sockeye that most tourist snag in the mouth or a fin , or even in the side.

I was pretty worn out around 6:00 pm and decided to head back to the village, for a nap, and some cold beer, and fresh salmon for dinner. Upon my returning to the Village, I became aware that I was in fact alone, Leroy and Stella had headed down stream to camp. I would have to be careful on my journey’s upstream; I was in fact, Fly Fishing alone in Alaska.

Fly Fishing Alone in Alaska (part 2)

2011-04-15T18:33:00.000-07:00

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Fly Fishing Alone in Alaska (Part 2)

Manokotak, Alaska

(The village at the base of the only mountain near by.)

From Dillingham, it was a short flight to the village of Manokotak, there is normally around 350 people (335) Eskimo, 1 black, and a handful of white fishermen) who reside year round here ( Back in 1983), but, when I landed the Village was empty. It was an extremely eerie feeling to land in a new village where I was going to be living, teaching and coaching, only to find that there was only a handful of people here. The pilot told me once we landed that the entire village moves down river to "camp", where the people fish for salmon all summer long, the village is empty. We taxied the plane to the end of the runway closest to the town, we were met by an elderly native man who was riding atop of a four wheeler, and he had a look of confusion on his weathered face. I introduced myself to the thin, grey stubbled, weather beaten gentlemen, his name was Leroy, he quickly told me that the" teachers don't come till Fall." I replied, “I’m here, I always spend my summers here in Alaska". Leroy looked down at the ground, shook his nearly bald head, and said, "Teachers don't come till Fall ". I just knew that would not be the last time I heard that this summer!

On the back of Leroy's 4 wheeler was a trailer to haul anything that was brought in by plane, supplies, mail, just about anything, (new teachers who come four months early). Like many villages in Alaska, there are no roads from the main towns out to the villages, this is why it is called the "Bush". The best way to get around in the bush is always by plane, it is quick, and sure, well, most of the time. In the winter in Alaska, everything freezes, this allows people to move about on snow machines, one can go anyplace on a snow machine.

During the summer the mode of transport is by boat, four wheeler, or plane. I'd brought my own boat ( 14 ft. Boston Whaler inflatable) and four wheeler, all I needed was gas, Leroy showed me where to get gas, and told me to write down what I used, it was a town co-op. We then went to the teacher housing, I got settled in, nice place, but it was very warm, no AC, why would they, all the teachers leave during the summer, by the time they return, it is Fall. Leroy told me he was leaving for camp the next day, he said that the post office would be open, and if I needed anything from the store to have the lady in the post office let me in, write down what I bought ( another town co-op), and I could pay later. Leroy then scratched the stubble on his chin, stuck his jaw out, it was a personality trait when he was in the middle of making a decision, and said, “we better go over to the post office and meet Stella, she's pretty tough, she better know who you are, or you might have problems." So, we went to the Post office, which is next door to the store co-op to meet the post mistress Stella. Behind the counter is a short, moon faced, round women with dark curly hair and horned rimmed glasses. "Who's this guy Leroy", came from behind the counter, Leroy replied, "the new science teacher and basketball coach, Mark Daly". Stella had a serious frown which struck me as a “bad moon rising", then, she of course asked why I was there now, it is summer, and teachers don't come till Fall. I gave Stella a huge smile, extended my hand out and said, "I'll be here all summer, fishing", the moon became full once again, the frown gone, Stella informed me that she would be in the Village every Monday for Mail and if I needed anything from the co-op, I'd have to do it on Monday, for she too was going to camp. The moon became quite sunny as Stella even gave me a smile, and said, “I’ll tell people in Camp you are here, so you don't have problems".

I was all set, gas, food, a nice place to live, boat, fishing and all alone to enjoy a beautiful river all to myself for the next three months to explore the upper Igushik River. Miles of wild river teaming with Salmon, Trout, Pike, Char, and Grayling, it would be a summer that changed my fishing perspective forever.

Next time, we start fishing! Stay tuned..

Fly Fishing Alone in Alaska ( Part 1 )

2011-04-15T18:18:00.000-07:00

Golovin , AK

In the Spring 1983 I was teaching in a small Eskimo village around 60 miles east of Nome Alaska. This was my second teaching position in the area around the Arctic Circle, the town is named Golovin. This village is very remote and has around 140 inhabitants that reside year round. As you can see from the photo above, it is located right on the water, on Golovin Bay, which is a mixture of fresh and salt water, the fresh water coming from many small creeks and rivers that flow from the mountains near by. The main river contributing the sweet water is from the Fish River, which is a good sized body of water that flows crystal clear into the bay.
During the winter, we experienced one of the coldest winters ever recorded, temperatures as cold as -67*, and the cold seemed to just stay. For 6-8 weeks straight we saw the high on the mercury go to -40, let me repeat that, the high was -40. During the long dark winter nights the mercury dropped to -50 ~ -55 below zero. Being so far north, it was an extremely dry cold, even being so close to the Bering Sea.
In May, I had just received news that I would be teaching much further south, which after surviving the winter was wonderful news, for two reasons; 1) because this new village was in the Bristol Bay area , that has some of the best fly fishing on the planet. 2) Because it would be much warmer that far south, and after heating my house with wood heat during one the coldest winter's in recorded history, I was ready for a break.
That winter, I only had a wood stove for heat; unfortunately, it was not a good stove. It came with the house I was renting, it just was not a wood stove for this part of the world, and it did not hold the heat. Everyone in the village, who used wood for heat, was forced to use driftwood that came on the beaches on the other side of hills on the Bering Sea side. To get a load of wood, this took most of the day, due to the lack of sun light during the winter months. There was around four hours of light enough to take the snow machine and sled over the hills, cut the wood into logs small enough to handle and load onto the sled. Then return to cut into smaller pieces and split, so they would fit into the stove. A load of wood could last for six days, so, every weekend, I would repeat the journey, cut, load, return, cut, split, carry inside, burn. This was eight weekend straight, during the cold spell, sick, or a snow storm, didn't matter, there was no choice about getting the wood, it had to be done.
Moving further south would be a complete joy, I was going to have teacher housing also, a house with a thermostat! Life would be quite a bit easier, and, I would be in the area of Alaska that had the great rainbow trout fishing. The trade off was the hunting, the better hunting for Moose , caribou, and all the fur bearing animals was better right around the Arctic Circle. After three years I had my fill of the hunting, and one of the reasons I went to Alaska was for the Trout fishing, this change was something that would fulfill a dream.
I packed all my things, the only heavy objects I had was a snow machine, and a four wheeler, and a Boston Whaler inflatable boat and a Yamaha 25 hp motor. All my other stuff, guns, fishing equipment, clothes, stereo, TV, did not add up to that much. I had a charter Cessna 207 come to move me to my new location; they had taken all the seats out so my things would all fit. The pilot loaded what he could, everything fit with the exception of the snow machine, which I sold at the plane, to one of the schools employees. He was all smiles and threw rocks as he tore away on the gravel road to take home his new prize.
There was so much weight that the planes tail was on the ground, and the nose was turned toward the sky, this was not a "tail dragger", it was a 207, the work horse , the air taxi of Alaska. The pilot assured me that the weight would be fine, and there would not be a problem and with the engine running the plane would straighten out and fly fine. We both crawled into position, he started the engine, nothing, and it still was dragging the tail. The pilot re- adjusted the cargo, and we started again, this time the tail come off the ground, and we took off. Like quite a few pilots in Alaska they prefer to fly low so you can see all the wildlife, rivers, valley's etc...
We were about 100 ft. above the ground, flying above the Tundra, when we spotted a plane that had crashed the year before. It was a Cessna 206, and it was completely destroyed, burned, all smashed, it was so bad, that it was just left where it crashed. The pilot said that they hit the ground full speed, nose first and tumbled, over and over five or six times, the pilot and the two passengers were killed instantly. We were both quiet for a moment, both I'm sure thinking of what that would have been like, the panic, the impact, the whole ordeal. When, just then the 207 started coughing, cutting out, the pilot was in a small panic, turning the fuel line off and on. "shit", he said, “I think there is water in the line", we were dropping like a stone. "Try the other tank", I screamed, He did, and the 207 started coughing again, sputtering, cutting out, we were heading down. “I don't know what to do" came from the pilot, I screamed, " just leave the second tank open, they both can't have water in the lines!", he did, and just before we were about to duplicate the plane we had just seen moments earlier, just feet above the tundra, the mighty engine of the 207 kicked back in and purred like a kitten. It was a sound I will never forget, and a situation that will stay with me forever. It was a time where your life flashes before you, funny, all I could think was that it was not my time to go. When the engine kicked back, it just made sense, it had to, and it just wasn't my time to go.
We landed in Dillingham, pulled up in front of Manokotak Air, the owner came out to greet us, we shook hands, and I saw the owner’s eyes staring down behind me with a look of aspiration. He was watching the pilot on all fours, kissing the ground hysterical, and mumbling, thanking god. “What happened? " asked the owner, "well , there was water in the fuel line, so the engine was quitting, we were over loaded, and flying about 100 ft. above the tundra, we came within feet of becoming a tundra turd". The pilot got off the ground, walked in the office and quit. I got another pilot, and continued on to the town of Manoktak, where I started a summer of fishing that I will try and convey the over whelming thrills and experiences that I had that year,
next time, part 2.