Sunday, September 21, 2014
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
He's probably fished for steelhead longer than I have been alive.
And stay's firmly attached to his single hand rod.
I jokingly started calling him the MSH, or the militant single hander because on this river, the traditional 9 foot 8 weight is as he calls it, the novelty act.
We oooh and aaaah over 100 foot casts that boom out from our spey rods, but the truth of the matter is that we as spey guys aren't always fishing the water as well as we should. I sat and watched my friend work a run and I noticed his constant attention to detail that put the fly right through each bucket of each piece of water we fished.
It was beautiful watching a master at his craft.
Sure he missed some of the "way out there water" that 2 handed casters can hit, but guess who was the one caught fish.
The Militant Single Hander.
Monday, September 15, 2014
I'm going to get some interesting google search hits from this....
The take was just like a hot early season fish. It ripped the loop from my hand and after two days without nary a bump or a pluck, the reel screaming felt great.
Dogged runs and surges made me believe I had a monster buck on. I had dreams of a thick bodied B-Run steelhead on the end of my dryline, but....
The head of the beast popped up near where I thought the fish was and my first thought was, huh...I spooked a beaver.
Then it occurred to me......I HOOKED A BEAVER.
On a traditional size 8
On a full dryline
Prior to the hookup, I had no idea the toothy critter was in the area. The line swung through this runs bucket and the fight was on.
Not having a lot of experience in a beaver landing situation, I ended the interaction by popping the fly
All I could do was laugh. I caught a freaking beaver.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
September 1st hits and it gives us the opportunity to walk old logging roads for forrest chickens.
Bringing a 3 year old into the grouse woods is awesome. You get to see the hunt through their eyes, and Big C was into it. The grasshoppers, the rouge sticks on the road that must be thrown, bird noises...you know, soaking it all in
We didnt have the greatest hope, as it was mid day and pretty dry conditions, but we found a road with a creek next to it and one bird exposed itself .
OMR held Carson back and I did the duty. The dogs dropped down the ridge, found the ruff and returned it to us.
High fives and excited inspection by the boy brought big smiles to all around. I was so excited to be there with him as he experienced the hunt as I had at his age 30 years before.
Five minutes later, I turn around to see Big C in full pout mode. Shocked, I inquired to see what the issue was.
"Not fair, you and Poppa Fay have your own gun, I don't. I want my own gun"
After a quick chuckle and explanation that 3 years old don't have their own guns. Maybe a bb gun in a few years.
But to be honest, I couldn't be prouder.
Friday, September 5, 2014
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Steelhead eat a lot of things.
The challenge is to get them to eat tiny little spey flies. Even harder, forcing yourself to use less materials and dress your flies with the sparsest amounts of feathers and flash
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Pink clouds breed excitement.
The dropping sun throws their last bit of energy upon the clouds and rushes in the golden hour of steelhead fishing
You want the whole concept of time movement to go the hell away as every cast feels like it has the juice
Night is barreling down on the day and in that clash, those pink, fluffy clouds make me happy.