Chuck Robbins-Outdoors

Fly Fishing: Fly Friday... MT Fishing Access Field Guide...License Renewal....

2012-03-02T09:50:00.001-07:00

One way to beat the crowds is to avoid fishing the famous places at the popular times, e.g. weekends, July and August, just before, during and immediately after the expected arrival of, say, the Big Hole River salmon flies and perhaps all season long should one us nefarious outdoor writers hotspot your pet rivers.

Another way is to download the Montana Field Guide. Featuring over 300 Fishing Access Sites--streams, rivers, and lakes--I mean, hell man, can't be all overrun...Right. FASs provide public access to some surprisingly high quality waters, many of which, remain under the radar of the thundering herd; offering not just great fishing. with at least the chance of relative solitude, as it used to be and should be but places to canoe, raft, bird watch and many even provide good hunting. Do it....http://fwp.mt.gov/fishing/guide/fasGuide.html

On another track March 1st means we need a new fishing license and while you would have to be living under a rock to not have heard by now the new deadline for applying for deer and elk permits is March 15th...I know has not one thing a do with fly chucking but I thought maybe if I just wrote it down, I would not forget...sorry but us geezers can't be too careful when it comes to...well, you know...over and out....

Fly Fishing...The Movie....Montana Wolf Update...

2012-03-01T10:00:00.000-07:00

An interesting article on the 2012, 20th Anniversary of the infamous "Movie" which, by any stretch, forever changed the face of what was at the time truly the "Last Best Place" into something...Well, let me just say "different" and leave up to you to decide good, bad or indifferent. That it also changed forever fly fishing as we once knew it is of course not up for debate. Also hard to debate is the increased interest in fly fishing spurred on all sorts of good stuff for rivers, trout, etc. That it also made a lot of folks rich and famous...well I guess if you are one a them, all well and good...for the rest of us? My vote all things considered...you know, Californication, land grab, today's Bozemans, Missoulas, Kalispells as opposed to PM days...locked gates, constant court fight to repeal the wonderful Montana Stream Access Law by bastards--Kennedy, Lewis, et al wielding more money than God, to say nothing of the State..Traffic on some of our antiquated two-lane roads nothing less than downright friggin' deadly...well all in all, I must vote Not So Hot...but then what do I know? Right.

You can read the article here...http://www.bozemandailychronicle.com/news/article_b07d873c-6039-11e1-b043-001871e3ce6c.html...by copy and paste into your browser.

Interesting article on the Increase in wolf numbers following the recently ended wolf season; which by all rational thinking is looking more like a failure with each passing day and would seem, assuming the idea is to really bring numbers down to reasonable biological (and not political) limits, another game plan is indeed in order...to read the entire article copy and paste: http://www.idahopress.com/news/state/montana-wolf-population-up-percent-in/article_e65de121-eaeb-5979-b4b0-104d36e016ec.html

Fly Fishing: Photo...Porn...

2012-02-29T09:41:00.002-07:00

Big Spring Creek (Lewistown, MT) has been a favorite ever since the first time we fished it way back when. The photo is more recent, shot during our marathon two year odyssey desperate to at least wet a line in as many of the dozens of creeks, rivers and lakes we planned to include in Flyfisher's Guide to Montana. I can't remember what or how many we caught or did not catch that day but the highlight was all the wonderful stream improvement work ongoing. Successful changes such as these only serve to make great cricks even greater fishing-wise but fish and catch rates aside healing old wounds is just downright good for everything and every one...sort a like chicken soup for the soul...

The blue-winged olive hatch is among the best hatches at Big Spring Creek. Generally speaking the hatch comes off in March and April and then again in October and November. A couple sizes bigger in the spring, like #18-20s; the fall hatch is more like #22-24s. While I can't prove it bwos like pmds are trout candy and whenever the tiny bugs are around you can almost bet the farm trout are keying on them; at least some of the trout most of the time. Though it takes a keen and practiced eye sometimes to figure out just which stage the trout are relishing at any given moment...nymph, emerger, cripple, dun...and of course not all the trout are in tune to the same items and naturally trout being trout are apt to switch gears without notice. The good news is no matter how it all turns out all fun...Right? Right...

Label this shot Gale captured high in the Beartooths: Yee intrepid reporter doin' his thing...in this case, as opposed to gittin' 'er done. Although it pains the ol' boy to confess, truth is the trout in this here pond done kicked my butt...Of the dozens slurping and swirling every direction, mad for some little itty bitty no-seeums I landed...oh maybe three or four...What's wrong with that you say? Well, nothing really just the trout were but a wee bit bigger than the nearly invisible hatch....OK maybe not that small but you get my drift, I'm sure...

Not long after shooting this one at Cliff Lake in the Gravellys a whole herd of rainbows moved in almost on the beach, cruising around in plain sight, merrily picking off hatching callibaetis; an easy cast in any direction. Feeding with reckless abandon I think would about cover it. Okay, we did not eat skunk but the licking those hungry trout put on us...But then as Gale said, Who cares about a slimy ol' trout when you're finnin' around immersed in all that wonderful blue water and a white sand beach besides...Hard to argue, eh?

Fly Fishing: Fly Friday Steelhead...

2012-02-24T08:49:00.001-07:00


Terry Throckmorton, Salmon River, ID, Steelhead

Grab your rod, head over the hill to Salmon, ID, word on the street is the ice recently went out at Deadwater which of course means, steelhead are once again on the move and the fishing will heat up...for the next month or so steelheading will be about as good as it gets...which in past couple years has been pretty damn good...Most everyone I know seems to expect pretty much more the same this time around. So there you have it, ya miss it, don't say I didn't warn ya...over and out...

Fly Fishing: Short Bamboo Rod...

2012-02-20T08:23:00.000-07:00

...features not only a unique construction but is really short (4 feet, 2 inches stem to stern) by today's standards. While years ago I went through a short rod craze and built (fiberglass) a couple rods in the 4-5 feet range these days my "collection" includes not a single rod less than 8 feet. And if you've been following this rant for any length of time you know how much we enjoy fishing even the tiniest, brush-choked trickles.

From what I can find out from those who have tested these rods are capable of easily casting flies (I would assume lightweight flies) out to 60 feet or so. Not really surprising when you consider there are guys out there who can cast an entire fly line sans fly rod so...Anyway for more info paste the link below into your browser:

solitudeoutdoors.com/braided creek rod

Montana Outdoors: Random Shots

2012-02-18T09:15:00.000-07:00

We rarely leave the house without a camera. Mostly we tote the camera to gather photos to support articles, this blog and, of course, our books. From time to time we sell a few stand-alone shots and we do shoot some for stock but as I say the vast majority are taken with some specific editorial use in mind. Naturally along the way stuff like the dried up henbane weed in the snow grabs us and every once in while we get lucky and end up with a pleasant surprise, which is afterall precisely why we try and tote a camera all the time, everywhere...like the man says, you just never know.

Scandia Luthern Church, built in 1916, in north eastern Montana, sits on a low hill, surrounded by empty prairie about 40 miles from the nearest town; standing on the porch on a clear day you can see forever and not one sign of human habitation. The part I remember is Kate pointing sharptails in the backyard though somehow the outcome escapes me.

We were cruising about the upper Big Hole one day not long after the first sandhills arrived which would make it around the middle of March. As I recall this shot was taken on the North Fork Road, which was snow free but really muddy. The spring thaw was in full bloom. Melting snow and icy-looking standing water everywhere; lots of ducks and other water loving birds; a herd of elk and, of course, cows and horses every direction.

Fly Fishing: Fly Friday

2012-02-17T08:57:00.000-07:00

Legend has it circa 1900, Idahoan Carter Harrison created the Trude fly; named it for his friend A. S. Trude. The original is said to have sported a red-brown body and wing, brown hackle and no tail. No peacock herl either which, of course, along with the down-wing (Trude style, if you will) are signatures of the many modern-day variations still evolving a century and change later.

Sometime later it became de rigeur to include a tail; most often golden pheasant tippet fibers. But even that has more or less fallen by the wayside. These days I see more Trudes sporting woodchuck or moose body hair tails or even stiff hackle fibers.

The down-wing remains but even that has been much bastardized—calf-tail is probably the most common but I’ve seen and tied Trudes wearing bucktail, elk-hair and deer-hair wings and recently I saw some small one tied with the foot-hair of the snowshoe hare; very nice, by the way, and said to float better too, always a plus in my book.

Most popular in show goes to the Royal Trude, with the Lime Trude probably a close second. Not to be denied purple (imagine) made something a splash last season on the Big Hole, how long that rage will last is of course anyone’s guess. Also last season I had good luck during the Big Hole skwala hatch fishing a Peacock Trude; said to be a creation of Bitterroot guru, Chuck Stranahan; no surprise there being as the Bitterroot is generally considered to be ground zero for the mysterious skwala hatch which, by the way, is probably starting about now to awake from its long winter nap.

With exceptions for variations such as the peacock skwala fraud Trudes, like their upwing cousins the Wulff family, are tied as attractor patterns. As the years roll on I find myself fishing them more and more. A great option for pounding ‘em up in pocket water, riffles, tight to the bank, even as lake flies. I’ve also had good luck at times fishing ‘em classic wet fly style…you know down and across. OK, not exactly wet because of the inherent bouancy more like damp and waking the surface…Bottom line Trudes flat out git ‘er done…one a those try it you might like it deals…I rest my case.

Montana Outdoors: Golden Eagle....

2012-02-16T08:34:00.000-07:00

There are some graphic (gory) photos currently causing a stir on the net showing a golden eagle eating and killing (yes in that order) an adult pronghorn doe. The eagle attaches itself to the back of its victim and begins eating...at what point death finally occurs is more than I know. But I have read reports of similar attacks where the talons eventually pierce the victims liver...how true again who knows.

On another track, being as Montana wolf hunters came up far short of the hoped for quota (220; 166 is the official body count) perhaps we should take a lesson from Mongolians and employ golden eagles to hunt and kill wolves? As wolf killers goldens are said to be effective as in swift, sure and deadly. Seems to me a win-win situation...take the heat off wildlife managers for allowing mean, cruel, bloodthirsty human assassins to do the dirty work and puts it squarely on Ma Nature...you know survival of the fittest...hell, think about it, even PETA would be hard pressed to bitch...Right.

Anyway you bend it, goldens sure make our fishing, carrion-eating national bird look-like a bit of a wuss, eh?

Fly Fishing: Poindexter, Opening Day...At Last.

2012-02-14T08:29:00.000-07:00

For a lot of reasons I'd just as soon forget January got away from me and for the first time in long time failed to catch a trout to kick start the year--hell, I did not even go, not even once. Though I did think about going just about every day since flipping the calendar to a new year not until a couple days ago did I finally say the hell with it and...

...now I'm standing in the parking lot at Poindexter Slough, hopping about beside the truck, one foot in waders when the kid arrives, little yappy dog in tow, Zebco in hand, nods...

For reasons still escape me, I mumble something I've learned the hard way is generally a bad idea...How's the fishin'?

Forty-five. But you gotta get it down, bring it back real slow, right on the bottom. Ain't about to come up for it..no way.

Sounds like you had yourself some kind a fun, eh?

Apparently just the opening he'd been waiting, moves in close and cuts right to the chase. Mister, I only been fishin' here for about 20 years, I oughta know how ta ketch 'em by now.

Spying the partially rigged fly rod leaning against the truck mirror adds, Don't wanna bust your chops mister but ain't seen one raise all day.

Really.

I remember thinking, kid you really can't be much more than 20...must a got an early start...eh?

If I was you, mister, I'd put on a big, whatyacallit, ah-h, streamer, lots a weight and try and get 'er down, right on the bottom. Ain't about to come up even an inch, no way, and bring it in real slow...slower the better.

Sounds like a plan. Thanks for the hot tip.

That's when he spied Gale strapping on her Nikon.

Ma'am, you wanna awesome picture, follow me.

Tossing the Zebco in the back of his pickup he all but grabbed her by the arm and hustled her toward the frozen cattail pond in front the truck.

C'mon out here, ma'am, ain't that the most awesome beaver dam ya ever saw, make a really good picture, but ya gotta get out here past the bushes, he said, sliding his way on out toward the middle.

I took that as my opening to get the hell outta Dodge. I'll be up in the meadow, get on out there and...

If looks could kill...

Under the bridge I stop to finish rigging, naturally keeping one eye peeled...you know should the kid decide further tutoring is in order...And naturally I tied on a bugger instead of a the midge I'd planned on...After all, the kid did mention 45 trout; 20-years a practice; and besides, not a raise all day...Right.

PS Gale eventually did catch up. And I did think to ask about the awesome picture. And she did--I think--OK I'm almost certain...she muttered a nasty word...and maybe that's all I need say about that, eh?

Fly Fishing: Fly Friday: Cut Glass Fish Art...

2012-02-10T09:23:00.000-07:00

Fellow Dillonite and friend Eric Larson is crafting some of the most beautiful cut glass trout art out there. No two trout are exactly alike although (at least those I've seen) are similar to the size of this brown trout--about 21 inches-- framed in a rustic, barn wood frame suitable for hanging--like the trout no two frames are exactly alike although all are crafted of rustic, barn wood. Eric will make just about any trout and, for what it's worth, he recently completed a steelhead that will literally knock your socks off...If you are interested in obtaining one of these treasures click on the link above for further information, pricing and so forth...

Montana Outdoors: Sheep Hunting, High Roller Style...

2012-02-08T08:25:00.004-07:00

$300,000 for a big game tag?

Yep, true story. And NO, not a typo. Fact is not even a record. While no secret if you want a record book sheep—a good shot at a new world record, Montana is the place. According to biologists there are several potential candidates running around out there right now but 300 grand for a tag? Sorry pal, but to my way of thinking there is something way wrong when fat cats are allowed to buy record book heads; while only way the rest of get the chance...well, the odds of drawing rank right up there with hitting the ol' lottery.

According to an Associated Press article:

A New York man has paid $300,000 for a license to hunt bighorn sheep in Montana this fall.

The Great Falls Tribune reports that the special auction license was bought last month by James Hens of East Bern, N.Y., at the Wild Sheep Foundation convention in Reno, Nev.

With the license, Hens will be able to take a bighorn in any Montana sheep hunting district this fall.

Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks commission authorizes several groups to auction big-game tags.

The groups get 10 percent of the money and the rest goes to FWP for research and habitat improvement for the species. (OK, there is some good comes of this for the folks but still don't make it right...in my humble opinion anyways.)

The most ever paid for a bighorn sheep tag was $310,000 in 1994.

I’ve met some members of the Foundation for North American Wild Sheep and to call them wealthy would be a gross understatement. Sorry…I know... You already figured that out for yourselves…Right! Anyway this is giving me a headache so…

Montana Outdoors: Remembering Kate the Wirehair

2012-02-06T09:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday our afternoon walk-about took in a place apparently ranked high among Kate's long list of favorites...Pure conjecture on our part based solely on how she would suddenly sit up and start talking as soon as the truck hit the gravel. She behaved similarly in all seasons but especially animated and talkative during the fall hunting season when she "knew" sage hens lived here and better yet were fair game. But I believe she relished our winter jaunts as well because then she "knew" the prospect of running into pronghorns (along with certain cows pronghorns got her talking also) and sage hens was almost a given.

This was her last point, a Hun at Wall Creek WMA on the Madison River last Labor Day weekend. Diabetic and blind Gale led her close on lead then turned her loose...obviously her nose still works as it did until the end...sleeping in the living room one day last week Gale came in carrying a bag of dog biscuits...Bam! she's awake on the bag like stink on you know what...Of all the dogs I'd say far and away she sported the best nose; bee-lining several hundred yards to nail a single bird; kicking brush so far ahead her point she just had to be lying...But NO...and on and on. Perhaps the best was the time I caught her belly deep in a little crick slowly sniffing her way upstream oblivious to my rant to "get the hell outta the crick and get on with it, for Christ's sake! we're huntin' birds not muskrats!" That's when I spied the duck's bill sticking up beside a drowned cattail. Undaunted she continued the investigation, plunged head under and came up with one very surprised hen mallard...Imagine. Ya little bitch...

Over the years, in season and out, she pointed many sage hens in a variety of locations. And while not much of a counter and a worse record keeper I'd put up the farm she pointed more here than all the rest combined. Just beyond the ridge the pronghorns are standing she pointed her first (age 7 mos) and one of her last (age 11 yrs); two memorable moments high on our thick list of Katie Highlights.

I can't prove it but by age 4 she had pointed literally hundreds birds--sage hens; Gambel's, scaled and Mearn's quail; ruffed, blue and spruce grouse, chukar and Hungarian partridge, California quail and pheasants across several states--Idaho, Montana, Arizona, North Dakota--and Alberta.

Of all the many bird dogs I've blown a whistle over none switched gears like Kate...ducks in the a.m., pheasants or you name it in the p.m. never missing a beat. Uncanny in her ability to figure out what we were looking for and then finding it.

Uncanny also how she seemed to know almost as soon as she left the truck whether or not birds were about; I know hard to believe but she was so seldom wrong that when she started bringing back bones (a faux pas she began as a pup apparently to amuse herself in lieu of birds and one I never could fix); like boss this is clearly a waste of time...Well, like the old saying goes, trust the dog...time a pack it in and look elsewhere....On to the next spot...you guessed it... Kate hops out, puts nose to wind and...as I say...uncanny.

Fly Fishing: Paring Down the Load and a Sad Day Indeed...

2012-02-04T08:29:00.000-07:00

Hang the landyard, stuff the fly box, tippet spools in shirt pockets, tug on the waders, grab the fly rod and go for it...Quick and easy, just what the doctor ordered to sooth a simple-minded soul.

I know, I know here we go again yet another Fly Friday posted on a Saturday mornin'...sorry but yesterday for us was Black Friday...the blackest friggin' Friday maybe ever...I'll fill in the details later...but for now all I can say is Katie girl our bird huntin' ain't never gonna be the same....

Montana Outdoors: Trophy Whitetails and Other Drivel....

2012-01-31T08:34:00.000-07:00

concerns life as we know it in the Great Outdoors....

Calling it "a story for all conservationists to celebrate," the Boone and Crockett Club reports its historic data indicates that trophy whitetail entries have increased 400 percent during the past 30 years of record keeping. From 1980-1985, hunters entered 617 trophy whitetails into B&C, compared to 3,090 from 2005-2010. For the latter scoring period, Wisconsin led all states with 383 entries. Follow the link below for the rest of the story:

http://hometownsource.com/2012/01/30/trophy-whitetails-up-400-percent-over-30-years-through-boone-and-crockett/

No doubt I lead a sheltered life but "ice fishing rage?" Wow! I, for one, would have never thunk it.... The rest off the story is here:

http://www.outdoorpressroom.com/outdoorpressroom/2012/01/michigan-up-ice-rage-incident-lands-angler-in-hospital.html

Montana Outdoors: Dry and Warm Winter

2012-01-30T10:18:00.000-07:00

...so far; makes for easy sleddin' and a few surprises along the way.

Apparently this beaver is enjoying the string of 40 degree plus afternoons as much as we are; you know sort a like munching lunch on the deck and catchin a few rays in the bargain...Now if wind the gods would just take a break...

Wonder if this young mule deer buck realizes by now he'd more than likely be belly deep in snow...belly deep in grass, end a January...c'mon.

OK, no secret bald eagles go to housekeeping early but January...no way...like Gale says, probably not settin' just restin'...I'll buy that...

Might be near 50 above in the p.m but as you can see in the a.m. at least up Browne's Bridge on the Big Hole still a might chilly...

Ice and a bit a snow in the shady spots along Moose Creek in the Humbug Spires but out where the sun shines...I rest my case.

Fly Fishing: Fly Friday: Essential Flies

2012-01-28T09:40:00.000-07:00

George Grant style woven-hair flies tied by Tom Harman....

Tom, as many of you know, lorded over Harman's Fly Shop, in Sheridan (MT) for many years...reputed at the time to house "the largest fly selection in Montana." Enough fly choices to cover any situation and probably enough left over to cover situations not yet invented.

The first time I laid eyes on all those flies got me to recollecting how in the past I had hit the crick, so to speak, armed with so many flies more than once I could not find the fly I wanted, yet knew damn well was in there somewhere? In there, as in one the many boxes, in one the many pockets of an overstuffed vest, such zippers and velcro closures no longer closed and weighed enough after a long day astream my neck and shoulders felt much like I'd imagine toting cinder blocks on a rope might.

Then one cold winter night in a moment of forehead slapping enlightenment as I performed the yearly clean-out and reorganization chore it hit me...like Duh...the vast majority, stupid, has never been wet, has never seen the light of day since dropping off the vice who knows how many moons ago...For me a monumental breakthrough and a life changing one at that...OK not really but I did start to pare things down big time and in the process made my fly fishing life way less stressful mentally and physically way less painful.

For many seasons now when fishing familiar waters I carry two boxes max: one for dries; one for nymphs and for those rare occasions I feel really desperate toss in a handful buggers...that's it. Of late, more days than not, I forgo all but the dry box...a personal choice you no doubt disagree but hey, tis what makes the big round ball round, eh?

The dry box contains (two dozen or so total in sizes 10-20) parachute Adams (Purple Haze), Iris and X-caddis, Royal and Ausable Wulffs, Stimis and Flash Cripples. Later I might toss in a couple ants, beetles and hoppers or during, say, Salmon Fly time a couple big Sofa Pillows; in BWO and/or Midge time I'd probably toss out most of the big stuff and add a few no-seeums to the brew.

Based on what I consider sound advise, e.g. Tom Rosenbauer (Orvis) advises, "you need at least 4 times as many nymphs as dries" thus my box contains many more nymphs than dries but the number of patterns remains, to my way of thinking, totally manageable.

In the full range of sizes 4-22 (like dries I do not carry every pattern in every size or even any pattern in every size) my selection is made up of skinny mayfly and midge type nymphs--PT, Micro May, Split Back, Zebra, RS-2 and such. Caddis larvae, pupae, emergers-- LaFontaine patterns, Rock Worm, etc. And other stuff Copper John, Rubberlegs, San Juan Worm, Hare's Ear, Prince (Variations). Most nymphs don't take up all that much room so I can get a little carried way and still keep it all in one handy-dandy size box.

Both boxes, along with floatant, a couple spools tippet, nippers and split shot fit nicely in the four pockets of a fishing shirt, snap the forceps to a pocket flap, grab the rod and good to go...as I say all you need for your basic neighborhood sojourn. Simple deal made to order for a simple-minded soul.

On the road? Well, that's another tale best told at a later date...

Admittedly Fanatic Minimalists are by now cringing (gagging) at my idea of paring down but then they did not see the vest or bear the pain either...I rest my case.

PS...Yes I know if don't soon get back on the straight and narrow no doubt the Fly Friday Po-lice will be a knockin...sorry.

Fly Fishing: Fly Friday

2012-01-20T09:16:00.000-07:00

Recalling good times, past times, is like chicken soup for the soul...

On another track, in case you haven't noticed cyber space fly fishing rags these days continue to just get better and better...OK some of the writing is, dare I say it? a bit too gonzo modern hip for this ol' geezer's taste but hard to argue the stunning photography is...well, stunning...what can I say? In case you wondered here are a couple links you might want to check out...in your humble correspondents opinion...that is....

Catch Magazine....http://www.catchmagazine.net
Ten and Two Magagzine....http://www.tenandtwomagazine.com
Flymage...http://www.flymage.net
Southern Culture On the Fly....http://www.southerncultureonthefly.com

While not an online magazine, Craig Mathews, Blue Ribbon Flies, site offers a growing list short videos and articles--fly tying how-to, fishing, etc.--and John Juracek photos are top shelf.

Fly Fishing: Air Travel 2

2012-01-15T08:39:00.000-07:00

Before moving to Montana permanently over the course of several years we enjoyed (really) some of the best airline flights imaginable...Planes nearly empty, on time, no unexplained delays on the tarmac, no unexplained returns to the gate after cruising about the airport for an hour or so, no unexplained aborted landings, no setting down in strange cities for no apparent reason...None of it, just hop on commuter to Detroit, take a leisurely stroll to the appointed gate, show boarding pass, take off and land in Minneapolis, always on time, once or twice way early...Imagine! then on to Billings and...well hard to believe I know but that's how it was...piece a cake personified...

Then one night in Detroit on the way home our 6 p.m. flight was cancelled...who knows? rescheduled for 11 p.m. no really big deal but...for the first time ever instead of an almost empty commuter this one was packed...overbooked actually as several of us were offered deals to abort...we declined and that was that except...every time since the cancellation became SOP...you did not need to have an aerospace degree to figure what the deal was....

About the same time we landed in Minneapolis late...missed our connection and rerouted to Denver...with no apparent plan to continue on to Montana...after an interminable silence on the airline's part finally...a plan but...would be "few hours." At last three of us, yes that's it, 3 of us...Gale, me and a neighbor who we had no idea until we arrived at the appointed gate...small world, eh? were herded into a really small plane and off we went bound for Bozeman at last. Actually this turned out one of the niftiest flights ever as the plane flew at low altitude such you could ID stuff on the ground no problem. Neater still, for me, we flew right over a guy's house in the foothills outside Cody...the guy and the house I had not seen in oh, say, 20 years...and then we flew right on top the Beartooth Wilderness, low enough you could have probably inventoried the lakes on the way past had they not still been locked in ice...early spring fishing trip.

The last time I flew commercial (Gale has several times since, poor dear) we suffered packed planes, run arounds and delays at every turn, a record setting wait in a long line beside the runway...but no take-off, instead we return to gate and start all over...But wait, the crowning is yet to come. Depart Billings for Missoula or Butte I forget which...No, despite a clear as hell night, one seemingly perfect for air travel we land instead in Seattle! Whereupon we deplane, sit for half the night before eventually making the return flight in the wee hours...If any explanation I for one did not get it...So there you have it...The life and times of a used to be fan of the airways...over and out...Chuck

Fly Fishing: Fly Friday (Air Travel)

2012-01-14T09:26:00.002-07:00

I'm no world travel by any stretch but have spent enough time in the air traveling to various fishing spots in the U.S. and Canada to have experienced a few thrills along the way and where commercial airlines are concerned...well, forget it, I done made my last trip.

The first time 4 of us hired a float plane to the headwaters of the Lady Evelyn River in Ontario. The flight in with square end canoes lashed to the struts proved exciting and uneventful unless you count the two big black bears and several moose the accommodating pilot took time to buzz so we could get a better look; exceeded only by the wonderful view of the wildest, emptiest country any of us had experienced.

Pointing to the map, a wide spot in the river, the pilot said, "good luck and I'll see ya downriver in 10 days or so." The appointed 10th day and many fat brook trout later we dodged our way down a a long rapid, looked around, studied the map again and then again, looked at each other, shrugged, this indeed was the spot, but...As Alvie, a decorated WWII fighter pilot put it, "No friggin' way! Might get in but he sure as hell ain't haulin' our asses out!

Doubt spread quickly to panic somehow this could not be the spot after all, but just then the unmistakeable drone of a plane. Buzzing the landing spot twice the plane neatly just at the bottom of the whitewater and soon taxied to shore...Hopping out on a pontoon the pilot said, "See yas made it in one piece, how's the fishin'? Gonna be mite tight but I seen tighter, best make two trips, let's get one boat tied up and we'll give er' a go, eh?" There may have been more to the speech but those are the high points, at least all I remember...can't say what the others heard or said.

Heart a pounding and mouth way beyond too dry for spit, I took a death grip whatever was handy and watched out the window in horror as the pilot gunned the plane first up into the rapids, then spun us around and...Well, with trees hoving into view way too fast for my taste, thinking, no knowing for certain, we were goners but...suddenly I felt the plane lift, the nose came up sharply, all sky ahead, then we banked crazily to the left and while can't swear we came out upside down it sure seemed like it...And that was that...No harm, no foul as they say...And I didn't even wet myself, imagine!

Not long after take-off in a similar float plane on our way to a lake in Quebec, suddenly the pilot turned to me and said something in French Canadian I did not understand a word of but did not like the sound of one bit either...That was when the engine oil splattered the windshield and I about lost my you know what...maybe I did but too scared to realize.

For the uninitiated sitting up front (I always got the co-pilot seat cause I was bigger), in level flight you can't see anything but sky no idea what's ahead and below; out the side windows as far the eye could see nothing but beaver bogs, countless really small lakes, a big river mostly whitewater and countless smaller streams no way a plane could land any. Oh s...t! That was when pilot switched shut the engine off...double OH S...T!

Meantime he's on the radio yakking way too loud and rapidly I'm thinkin but...With the engine shut down the nose of the plane drops and...praise Jesus, praise the Lord, praise the airplane gods, praise any and every soul on the planet, behold a big lake, no make that a BEHOLD ONE BIG, BEAUTIFUL LAKE and to make a harrowing tale short, the pilot, praise him too, by starting and stopping the engine managed in due time and without further incident to set us down and oh so softly at that...trust me, without doubt the wonderfulest feeling ever.

Airline travel started off as more idyllic sojourns than anything harrowing or upsetting but course over time all that changed and not as we all know for the good of the flightee...stay tuned for a few highlights will be coming soon...over and out...Chuck

Montana Outdoors: EHD Hammers...

2012-01-09T09:19:00.000-07:00

...whitetails along a 100 mile stretch of the Milk River between Malta and east of Glasgow...Biologists estimate about 90 % mortality and predict the recovery will take years. This comes on the heels of the heavy losses of mule and whitetail deer and pronghorn following last year's devastating winter and record spring floods.

Epizootic hemorrhagic disease, EHD, is transmitted by biting midges. Results in internal bleeding that can kill infected animals within just a few days.

Fly Fishing: Fly Friday

2012-01-06T09:46:00.001-07:00

Anyone whose has spent much time on the sticks knows all about the old adage, You gots your good days and the not so hot...Who knows how the rest of you feel but in my case memories of the "good" fade fast while the "not so hot" moments remain vivid, the stuff of nightmares even years later...In no particular order here are a few of my best blunders and one, dare I say it, for the highlight film...

A chilly morning in early October at the bequest of my pal, Al Lefor, I hauled two guest to Divide Bridge, empty for once because of the late date I remember saying, "Boy, you guys really no how to pick 'em, looks like we got the whole damn river to our ownselves." If they only knew...A few minutes later I backed down the ramp dropped the boat and...The friggin' truck would not start, indeed would not even turn over...Panicked--because I knew Al would leaving shortly for Butte on business and Roger was done for the season meant no one would be there to answer the phone, no one to come to the rescue and tow the truck off the ramp--I trotted to highway, the only possible place to get cell service and...no dice. So told the guests to go ahead and fish, meanwhile I would hitch a ride to the shop and catch Al before he left. (fat chance I thought but kept it to myself). As luck would have it a cement truck soon came by, stopped and wonder of wonders did catch Al in time. No problem, pull the truck across the parking lot, get it started, move it to the shop, hook trailer to Al's jeep...and go from there. Naturally this did not work so...To make a long story short we never did get the truck started or out the parking lot either, the engine seemed to somehow seized...And after making arrangements with a Dillon towing service we finally launched not at 8:30 as planned but shortly after 1 p.m. The guests of course were somewhat miffed but to their credit pouted way less than maybe I would have...

Last season, I met two guys at Al shop, picked out a bunch of flies, made arrangements for the shuttle and headed upriver to Squaw Creek (highest launch on the river, half hour or so from the shop). Not until I reached Squaw did I realize I'd placed the fly box and outfitter tags on rear bumper and...Hang in their boys I'll be back afore ya know it...Sure I'd find them beside the highway I drove slow the last 10 miles or so...No but surely will be waiting in the shop the act of a good samaritan...No, some bastard heisted 'em only probably a hundred bucks or so worth a flies...Damn and double damn....An hour and a half or so later we finally launched and to say the guests were not happy campers would be an understatement...fact is hardly spoke a word until well after lunch...some guys you know just ain't got much sense a humor. Anyway this one turned out OK seems Al's neighbor found the box and tags, but had to run an errand first before turning them in at the shop...Tip was kinda light I thought even considering but...who knows maybe...well as I say who knows....

Twice or was it three times? in one season I forgot to put the truck key in the secret spot and could not get hold of George Goody on the cell phone to make other shuttle arrangements...nothing like after a long hot day on the river getting to take out and no truck, eh?

Another time I drove guests all the way from Dillon to Wise River, only about 50 miles, mind you, and, Yikes fellas, you will not believe this but I plumb forgot the outfitter tags...Probably best we leave the ensuing conversation to your imagination...Right.

I'm not naive enough to even think many guests over the years have not cussed me in private or under their breath but only one ever threw down his rod in disgust and yelled (quite loudly I might add), "You sonofabitch, if you put on the right fly I'd catch those fish!" Right. The guest in question had been flailing away at a string of trout sipping spent trico spinners for the better part of an hour and not one, not one cast mind, had come even close to the sort of proper drag free, on the money, cast needed to git er done. I, meanwhile, had done my diplomatic best to cajole the bastard to give it up as a bad job and move on but no...he insisted my several fly choices were to blame and thus the blow up...Pissed, instinctively (I guess) I grabbed the rod, false cast for distance and...considering state of mind and all, laid out what had to be the luckiest cast ever, the fly dropped perfectly, a foot or so above the target, surrounded by naturals floated down and disappeared...A few moments later I scooped up one very fat brown...nifty as hell doesn't begin to describe the feeling but the best thing was the silence suddenly engulfed the river...you...could...have...heard... the...goddamn... proverbial...pin...loud...and...clear...Really. By the way, should you have doubts as to this reporter's veracity, just ask Al...over and out...PS the brookie has nothing whatsoever to do with this rant, more a feel good thing...

Fly Fishing: Fly Friday

2011-12-30T08:57:00.001-07:00

The annual salmon fly blitz draws fisher folk to Montana (and elsewhere) literally from around the globe. This is nothing new, however, for according to Paul Schullery (Cowboy Trout, an excellent read by the way) Montanans have been fishing the hatch religiously for at least 120 years and counting. But it wasn't until later in the 20th Century things really got rolling thanks to pioneer fly innovators such as Dan Bailey, Pat Barnes, Charlie Brooks, George Grant, Bud Lilly and a few others, somewhat lesser known.

One would think after all these years, all the many trials and tribulations, new Salmon Fly patterns would be a thing of the past. Nothing could be further from the truth as I cannot recall a single season when at least one new hot must-have-pattern has not made its way into the fly shop bins and, while it pains me to admit, most, if not all, have found their way into my box...even though I should be old enough, wise enough at this point to know better but don't. The list is long--Sofa Pillow, Improved Sofa Pillow, Orange Sofa Pillow, Bullet-head Salmonfly, Chernobyl Stone, Bird's Salmonfly, Henry's Fork Salmonfly, MoJoe Salmonfly, MacSalmon, Mystery Meat Salmonfly, Drowned Salmonfly, Salmon Fly Convertible, Norm Woods, Norm Woods Rubber-legs, Chubby Chernobyl, Clark's Stonefly Golden and, believe it or not, I count at least four more whatchamacallits in my box--and note these patterns are all dry.

At one time or another I've probably tied on just about every stone fly nymph pattern known to mankind...Montana Stonefly, Pat's Rubberlegs, Brook's' Montana Stonefly, Brook's Stonefly, AP Stonefly, Girdle Bug, Pepperoni, Bitch Creek, Kaufmann's Stone, Woven Stones and, you guessed it, several whatchamacallits.

I regret never having fished (just too-nifty-to-risk) A.P. Potts or George Grant Woven Hair Patterns (the Feather Back in the center of photo was tied by my friend Tom Harman) or the infamous Bunyan Bug (carved wood and horsehair) but fishin gods willin and the crick don't rise...well hell, you just never know what the future holds, eh?

Merry Christmas....

2011-12-25T10:37:00.000-07:00

Fly Fishing: Fly Friday

2011-12-23T08:46:00.000-07:00

Ruby River

Hard for me to get the ol' bald noggin' round the idea but no denying 2011 is all but ancient history. Where the year went has me more than a little baffled. But no use bawlin over spilt milk, right, time a move on, so...Of late I started once again workin' on my bucket list--you know the must do stuff afore roastin' in the big fahr...Alas, much like my must-do-chores list it too just keeps getting longer and, knowing me as I so well do, not much hope of ever running out of stuff I could/should do but in all likelihood won't so...no surprise there, eh?

The somewhat doctored up photo above is of course your irresponsible reporter doing what he used to do often--e.g. fool enough to stand all day in ice water waving a stick in hopes of fooling a foolish, half-frozen trout to bite, knowing full well frozen fingers are so far gone removing the hook is a joke and breaking it off...well, as we all know, only works when you least want it too...Anyway, for reasons now escape me, "do more winter fishing" is right up there just below "hunt more birds" and right above, "tie more flies." If I were to guess I'd say two of the three ain't got much chance but then as they say, "dealin' with an addled soul you just never know"...OK I forget who but someone must a said it, right? Right.

Montana Outdoors: Flat Out Gone In The Blink of An Eye...

2011-12-19T14:16:00.000-07:00


Hoar frost turns the ordinary into the extraordinary overnight...

...though nifty as it looks signs a death warrant, the final nail in the coffin for last summer's blooms...

...too bad we can't bottle it, 'cause damn wouldn't it jazz up the ol' xmas tree...