Baetis?

The baetis have been poppin' and the fish are eatin' 'em. Here's some video of an afternoon dry fly session with a couple guide buddies and myself. Please keep in mind that we are professional guides and only amateur filmmakers. Enjoy.

Stinking Water River

We pull up to the ramp at the Twelfth Street Bridge where seventy or eighty trout eagerly rising to morning midge await our arrival. With one guide raft just upstream, the fish usher us down river a mile or so, slappily sipping alongside the banks. The first few rising fish we cast to are a little persnickety and I’m told this upper stretch gets fished regularly from walk-in traffic. The sun is high and warm for 11:00 A.M. and the midge are clustering, the water is gin clear with a glacial tint. To the west ominous clouds envelop the Absarokas, ruminating, waiting to unleash their energy across the sage deserts and grain plains of the basin. Smaller dark gray clouds break free from the leash of the mountains and congregate above us and begin spitting flakes of snow. I see the first tiny sail boat. Then another one. And then another.

The baetis hatch hits its peak about 2:00 P.M. The sun is high and has burnt off the clouds in the valley and they have receded to the cathedrals. Chad and I just happen to be in the right spot for filming after we both get our rocks off on some solo technical fishing. Here is some video that speaks louder than words. There are sooooo many bugs that the little guys attack the fly before it even gets to the nicer fish. This is my first time down the Shoshone River and you can bet I’ll be back.

Laundry day

Just in case anybody does ever read this blog, I decided to update it a little. I’ve been too busy fishing, actually, so I have a viable excuse. I’ve had a couple stellar days with clients in the last month and aside from a little bit of guiding I’ve been working at the Angler on the weekends. It drives me nut having to listen to people talk about fishing when I’m cooped up inside slaving over a vice. I had a guy come in a couple weeks ago touting on about how he saw some guy, the greatest fisherman he’s ever seen, one time catch three thirty-plus inch rainbows, in the Snag. I told him I didn’t believe him and he shouldn’t be fishing on redds.

Spring time in the shop is fun because it’s busy and I’m able to go midge fishing when I get off. Soon there will be baetis. It’s also nice to see the faces that return with every year. John Dobson came in the shop the other day to see how things are working out with new ownership and to sell us some shit, of course. We talk about this, that and fishing. And then he tries to pawn some crap. At least he's always got some free shwag unlike some of the other reps, and kicks down a pair of Kaenons to the both of us (which, by the way, are better than my Smiths). Eric and I had no trouble convincing him to go for a ride on the lower river in the air boat, ya know, a swamp boat. Ha. This one has a Buick 404 in it and a plane prop and probably exceeds the decibel level. The lower river this time of year is clean and crystal clear and you’d think it’d be off the wall fishing. Even with midge clustering, raking streamers through the troughs and the normal nymphing fare, I think Dobby was the only one who caught any fish, two rainbows. The beer was great for washing down the tequila.

I’ve been fishing with John six or seven times and we always have a pretty wild time, this was no exception. After a jaunting ride through some un-navigable channels and getting stuck in mud and silt up to our waists that smells like a backed-up septic system, we run out of gas. Luckily we had just enough to sputter up to the Royal Bighorn Lodge. Eric gets a ride back to his vehicle at Bighorn Access at which point he finds a dead battery and Paul blazing saddles back up the dirt road. Oh well, Paul had plenty of beer at the lodge and we still had a little tequila left. Just another day on the ditch.

Is it still winter?

The winds have laid down and the temperatures have soared to above freezing and fishing the last few days has me really jazzed. I’ve been out on the river every day for the better part of two weeks scoping it out, walking up and down it, and the dredging the bottoms. The browns have pretty much wrapped up their spawn as I’m not seeing any trout, not even egg sucking rainbows, on or near the gravel, with the exception of the buckets and troughs behind the redds and the nests located in slower deeper water. The water temperatures are down to 38-40 degrees.

I fished the Hotdog Hole the other day and it was

absolutely silly. I fished that left side all the way down the Red Cliffs to the Barrel. The fish are definitely stacking up in the slower water; inside seams, tailouts, deep pools and troughs. I must have ruined the day for about thirty or so trout on that little walk. I continued all the way down to the Gravel-Pit with the intention of fishing the Snag. I ran into another guide I know and the TroutBeads guy chuckin’ streamers in the flats there, just below 3 Mile. Paul was wielding his double-hander. He said they’re liking it slow. I asked him if I could get a ride across the river, and I told him about how I crossed just above the braids the other day and got a dose of icy water down my front side. I told him I’d meet him back up here around dark, they railed four fish as we talked. The Snag fished great. So did slowly stripped streamers.

The past few days I’ve just been out hucking the big ugly stuff. I’ve been running ‘em deep and slow through the troughs and working ‘em off ledges in the slow water. A lot of takes have been on the swing too. The mornings have been pretty good with olive and white, white and yellow, and olive and yellow. Black and blue did really well for me on the lower river. It could’ve been an afternoon thing too. I haven’t seen a fish over 22 inches, but I plan on floating Bighorn to Mallards this weekend in search of a river pig.

And holy shit, can you believe it… I got a couple trips next week. I’ve had some good time off and am really looking forward to getting back to work and the fishing season, but it seems it gets earlier every year. And to tell you the truth, I’m kind of nervous. The temperatures are going to be in the forties, thank god. I’m going to try to get a couple more days on the water before I take out some random Joes just to get my confidence level up a bit.

Welcome to the Trailer Park!

here's a water color i did recently

Fort Smith, Montana is in the middle of nowhere. Where the Rockies meet the Plains and where life is placed on the edge of insanity. It boasts of nothing more really than four fly shops and a gas station and about 200 or so people during the peak summer season. The Bighorn River flows right by this small collection of trailer homes and most residents, including myself, go to work on the ditch everyday. Letters from the Trailer Park will document the alternative lifestyle of guiding and fishing for a living through horribly written essays, lame journal entries, crappy photography, and mediocre artwork. I hope to share with you the passions of nature and fly fishing and the journeys that take us there throughout the next season and the many seasons to come.



The clouds just broke and the sun ought to warm this ice box up in a couple of hours. If the winds lay low temperatures should hit above 30, in which case I plan to go fishing. Probably just go down to 3 Mile Access and fart around the channels for a little bit.