22 April 2010
Written by
joe (
)
Published on April 22nd, 2010 @ 12:20:26 pm, using 697 words, 41 views
From the previous blog we will continue with Joe the somewhat hungover guide preocuppied by Ms. Chewbacca from the Top Hat Bluegrass bar beginning their fishing day with Bill and his wife Rosie.
As I pull up to the front of the shop I notice Bill and Rosie are pretty organized and seem to have everthing. Always a good sign and some mornings is a contrary position to my a.m. circumstance.
Joe - “Do We have everything? Licenses? Rain Gear? Reels?"(Lunch, Dishes, Flies, Water, Propane, Floatant)
Rosie - “We are good. I checked it over, hard to keep Bill organized with fish on his mind.”
Joe - “Let’s roll I want to hit Kona bank with the first fly.” (Sounds like a cool gal.)
The next ten minutes of conversaton will focus on where are you from, how many kids, how long in town, etc. Then Bill is going to go for the throat at some point and figure out what how bad a newbie guide he drew and just dropped $450 a day to fish with.
Bill - “So how long have been in the guide business?” (Please at least a second year guy)
Joe - “Well, I guess I should let you know right now. This is my first day of guiding. If you guys see a river that looks good please let me know and we’ll give it a shot.” (Game on, your move Bill)
Bill - “I figured as much when you called my fly rod a pole and my floating line funny colored string.” (He IS a young one, kinda of prickly fellow. This might work out after all.)
Joe - “And I will need some help getting the boat in the water, either one of you know how to back up a trailer? Whenever I spin the wheel it goes opposite of where I want.”
Rosie - “I can back one up, but I heard you Montana boys don’t take well to gals driving your trucks.” (Smart ass, kid)
Joe - “Well I’ll give it my best, the river is big enough eventually I’ll hit water.” (This might work out after all, they have character.)
Rosie - “Thats exactly what I tell Bill when he is casting.”
Laughter and the ice is broke. No body trusts anybody yet, but at least we have a chance before the flies get tied on.
Joe - “Actually guys this is my first year guiding. I am born and raised here and while I’m not the boatman that I wish I was, I will work hard for you guys and I seem to find adequate numbers of fish. (That’s the truth and either way you are in my boat for the day, so lets make the best of it.)
Bill - Works for us. (Yeah, you can kind of see the local inbreeding around the eyes. I am 100% sure that is stale whiskey.)
In the end the gig is trust. If you have been guided with a good professional that calls the eat right before it happens and for seemingly no reason changes the fly and produces another off water weirdo lay trout, then you understand water trust.
When we say 5 feet off the log and twitch it twice. We mean it. 3 feet won’t get bit and 7 feet is over the dink trout. Exactly there in the magic trout shoebox where it happens. If you trust me you will be ready. If you don’t, the dry fly gobble will come as a surprise and you will tell me he missed it, or it just rolled on it, or it was a short striking trout nibbling the legs. Either way you don’t get the trophy trout picture and I don’t get big tip.
And if you put it in the magic water shoebox and it doesn’t happen, then I haven’t earned your belief. I accept that. Somedays those little finned bastards beat me.
Rightly so this guiding game is two way street. If either party checks out its a solo dance.
A grown man in waders dancing by himself is an uncomfortably grim sight, especially if they are playing sentimental 80’s music.
www.classicjourneyoutfitters.com
09 April 2010
Written by
joe (
)
Published on April 9th, 2010 @ 10:24:04 pm, using 809 words, 64 views
I am a veteran Western Montana guide. The best part of that career choice is it removes any worries of having a heavy income tax burden. It is a hustling life that you are guaranteed to get paid in experiences far more that 401ks. As it turned out, its not the spiritual journey that lured me in when I was young, but it has answered a few questions I was asking. After ten years of it being 100% of my family’s income, I looked around at the other vets in the game and they seem to have the same glazed look of knowing something that you don’t, but they aint going to bet the farm on that secret nugget either.
Han Solo is a fly fishing guide, Luke Skywalker is not. Chewbaca is a granola gal from Missoula that probably can do more shots than you at the Top Hat Bluegrass bar on a weeknight.
My first year guiding I worked in the small fly shop in Missoula Montana. It was run by an older angler from New Jersey whose opinions were always right and given at a high volume. Quite a demanding fellow but knowledgeable to a fault. His lead guide was a veteran who really put alot of fish in the boat. I on the other hand was newbie guide who was born and raised in the Bitterroot valley trouncing through its waters, but didn’t know shit about producing trout for clients. That is an important distinction to all aspiring guides; you catching trout by yourself should be a no-brainer, try finding a fish for some New York City Personal Injury Lawyer who can’t get it past the oar and argues with you that actually drag makes them eat because he read an article in Fly Fisherman magazine one time - Day after Day, after Day, after Day. So you think you are good, newbie guide?? Here’s the hamburger caster, better get good at teaching and wear a WIIIIIIIDE brim hat and duck like a bobble head on crack.
Vet guides get vet clients and newbie guides get the young couple from Pennsylvania who want to try fly fishing for the first time on their way to Yellowstone Park and their disinterested I-Pod in the ears, texting, eye rolling kids.
But every once and awhile a quality angler that knows what good guides are slips through the cracks ends up with a newbie guide.
Oddly, by chance or luck my first year guiding had more steaks than hamburger.
Anything in parenthesis (are thoughts) the rest I actually said.
The classic young guide meeting experienced client moment; and like two circling dogs they go subtlely towards the river.
Me - Good to meet you, my name is Joe. Easy to remember me - just another Joe the guide. Looks like we are together today. (Kind of looks like an angler, please give me an angler today. I neeeeeeeed it. One more day of bobbers and I am going to lose my mind.)
Clients - Yes, I am Bill this is Rosie my wife. (They gave me a young one. A young one!, Please let him be native Montanan. Maybe not, they smoke and are 1/2 inbred.)
Me - Nice to meet you. Do you guys have gear or do you need rental rods? (Please have your own gear. Did I pack Advil in glove compartment? Ms. Chewbacca pounded me with Jagermister and then left me hanging last night.)
Bill - We have plenty of rods. 9 ft 5 wts good? ( I think I smell stale whiskey, maybe not. Please not a smoker.)
Me - Exactly, those will be perfect. (I kind of smell like whiskey, probably shouldn’t have have hung in there with Brooks for the last pool game last night. That bastard is probably still asleep right now.)
Bill - Have they been up lately? (Please don’t say dropper fishing has been hot. If I ever see another Montana trout with a bead head something stuck in its beak it will be too soon.)
Me - Yeah if you can make the shots. Nice question, that means we are doing the Lower Clark Fork. (This guy might be a player. No Bobbers on the Blackfoot, thank you Lord.)
Bill - Sometimes the fly ends up in the right place. (Kind of an arrogant fellow, maybe we have a chance at good day. Yeah, that’s definitely whiskey and cigarrettes alright.)
Me - Sweet. I’ll grab the rig and we’ll load up. (I wonder if I am really going to be able to shoot the nasty heads up on the tailout on Kona Bank. How cool would that be?)
Bill Whispers to Wife as I go get the rig - I don’t know about this Joe the Guide, but at least they have good lunches here.
So the dance begins.
www.classicjourneyoutfitters.com
22 March 2010
Written by
joe (
)
Published on March 22nd, 2010 @ 08:23:01 am, using 662 words, 80 views
A good number of guides in town call buddies after their shift for fishing reports. Maybe you were on the Bitterroot for the last week and you need to head over to the Missouri and its been awhile. So you call a buddy that has been on that water for a fishing report.
I don’t do this much, because my log book is my buddy I look to for fishing projections. I match up my daily data points to historical logs of past years and then go figure it out on the run. I don’t ask for directions and I lean hard on instincts, it works for me and more importantly its on my own horespower. I like my scars or smiles at the boat ramp to be my own.
Looking at two anglers that just dropped $450 to fish with me don’t want to hear -
“But my guide buddy said it was good in here.”
Their answer is “But, we didn’t hire your buddy.”
Thats not to say I have never made the call for information, but damn I don’t like to.
My source in Missoula is about a sneaky an angler there is. Lets call him Snangler (that’s sneaky plus angler from the last sentence) You never see old Snangler because he keeps thoroughly to himself. I think the mere sight of other boats do about the same thing to him as the noon sun to a vampire. Snangler pays the shuttle drivers extra to keep record of his boat movements off the morning traffic list. Don’t ask to keep his flies at the end of the day. I watched Snangler fire a client that had snuck some of his flies out of his secret hopper box. The angler studdered through an excuse why they showed up in his vest, but Snangler took the “thief” back to the hotel at the end of the day and calmly asked him to book with anybody but him in future.
I asked Snangler how he knew the flies were missing -
“I tie those in bunches of thirteen for luck, we lost two on fish, two were strung on rods, and after lunch I only had five in the box. I am not a fly shop - I am an angler. My flies have mojo and I don’t sell mojo.”
When I call Snangler for info the conversation sounds more like a FBI tape of mobsters speaking in code about putting a hit on somebody.
Joe - “Hey Snangler how was your day today.”
Snangler - “We had some fish eat the fly.”
Joe - “Where did you end up floating?”
Snangler - “On the water in the Rocky Mountains. It was quite beautifull today.”
Joe - “That’s great did the highway sounds beat up your guys ears.”
“No, but I almost jacknifed coming into the backdown.”
“I saw the water temp spiked, sometimes that creates a flood of Acranuria in the morning.”
“You are right it can.”
“So you started out big?”
“Yea, but only for the first 3 hours and then the scenery took over”
At this point I have everything I need, but old Snangler isn’t going to let me have a Freebee.
Snangler - “I saw on the shuttle sheet you were up top all last week.”
Joe - “The wild flowers are in bloom and I was taking photographers”
Snangler - “You ran up there all the way through the heavy west flow, I bet the flowers were swaying quite well.”
Joe - “Casting, er…… I mean the photo taking was difficult because the tripods kept shaking”
Snangler - “Those beetles sure struggle in the wind if they are up there early”
Joe - “Especially the little iridescent ones”
Transaction has now ended.
Snangler - “Well have a good day and I hope we don’t run into each other.”
Joe - “Same to you, sure is nice to keep rivers quiet.”
These calls get pricey quick.
www.classicjourneyoutfitters.com
09 March 2010
Written by
joe (
)
Published on March 9th, 2010 @ 08:10:41 am, using 1129 words, 183 views
A few posts back I talked about abusing boats - please allow me illuminate.
Missoula boat ramps tend not to be ramps at all, but rather a place to get a truck close to the river. Usually its a gravel bar with a fishing access sign next to it. Those are the marked ones. There are a bunch more sneaky spots where the boat is more of a rodeo ride to get in.
Those accesses can provide some drama to start the fishing day if you aren’t careful.
One of the harder accesses is Sunset Hill on the middle Blackfoot. It is a steep slope that runs about 100 feet down to the river and is littered with exposed large rocks. At the bottom is a rock about the size of VolksWagon bug that splits the pathway to the river.
The access is designed for rafters to be able to pack in and out lightweight boats. It is not designed for drift boats…………..
Unless you were headed down the Clark Fork for some fishing and you found it had a massive family reunion float taking up the mid river, which forced you back to Missoula looking for different water late which throws the Bitterroot drifts out, and the only don’t-see-another-angler hole in morning drift plan is Sunset Hill on the Blackfoot. The only problem there is you are pulling your new drift boat and not a lightweight raft. No one launches drift boats there, but maybe its only because no one has ever tried.
When I pulled up to the access looked over the precipitous lip towards the river my clients thought I was kidding -
“You aren’t going to launch here, are you?”
“No problem guys, I have done it a bunch” Which was partially true, because I had a number of times with my raft. Its important to keep the troops confident and I didn’t want them to waver.
My client turns to his buddy - “Yep, Jim he is actually going to do it. I thought he was just messing with us. I gotta see this!”
When I ordered my new boat, (look back two blogs and you will see the unfortunate chain of events that motivated me to get a new boat), I got it with a polycarbonate floor. Basically it is a plastic armour shoe that is glued to bottom that makes it impervious to rock shots. This durable characteristic of my new boat gave me the confidence to formulate a plan to slowly scrape over each rock down the boat ramp slope to finally get the water. After calculating angles and forces by drawing on my mathematic education that ended in eighth grade, my plan appeared fool proof. The rocks were sharp enought to stop the descent of the boat and the slope was steep enough to allow me to nudge it towards the river. After re-checking my math, (it was easy because I was wearing sandals), I dropped the boat at the top of Sunset Hill.
At this point Jim hands Bill a $20 and says - “I told you he was going to do it.”
To which Bill replies “Double or nothing he lives.”
I ask - “What are you guys talking about?”
“Oh nothing, we just were talking about the baseball game last night.”
As the boat sat teetering anchor bracket first above its rock strewn path I was quite proud of myself for solving the drift boat equation for this boat ramp. So I started nudging towards the first rock and the boat jumped a little faster downhill than I thought, but by digging in my heels I skidded it to a stop on the rock. I kind of got a rush of adrenaline as it happened so fast, but I did get the boat stopped and my faith in my boat launch physics was unshaken.
Above me I heard Bill up the ante on apparently a different baseball game to “$200″ On the other team “Living"?, He must have said “Winning"? Bill was also joking about calling this ramp “Hamburger Hill", but I thought I told them the name was “Sunset Hill"?
I was breathing hard from wrestling the boat to this point, so I stood up for a minute to catch my breath and leaned against my boat for support. At this point I learned that the other characteristic of my new boats plastic shoe was its slickness which was being displayed as it lept from rock to rock caterwauling towards the big VolkWagon rock at the bottom of the acess. Apparently my breath heaving lean against the bow overcame my mathematical calculations of a safe boat launch and the power of the gravity and slope took over at a much faster velocity than I thought was possible for a boat on dry land.
At this point I had a choice to make. To either step back and keep my body parts whole and boat parts broken or gamble that a running jump down the acess perfectly timed would land on the left side of the boat would veer it away from the monster rock splittin the path to the river and land perfectly in the water. Once I veered the boat off its course of destruction I then could hang onto the side and then roll into the rower’s seat to drop in the oars and row back to my clients. No good to save the boat from the rock and loose it to the river.
After very quickly checking my math again I started leaping towards the runaway boat. My guys later called it frenzied epileptic stumbling, but I think of it more like the perfect impression of Barry Sanders zig zagging in the backfield before he bursts for a 35 yd touchdown. Either way I actually made it.
Yes, I landed on the left side of the boat.
Yes, It veered to the left and avoided the rock and splashed down perfectly in the middle of the Blackfoot River.
Yes, We were airborne for a brief period of time.
Yes, I rolled into the boat and rowed it back to shore confidently.
Yes, It was a TA-DAA moment of guiding expertise and not sheer dumb luck.
No, I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, launch a boat at Hamburger.. er Sunset Hill again.
The Plus and minus on the day was we had good fishing, Bill ended up down $250 on the baseball game, and my new boat was officially labeled lucky.
****New for 2010, I will be posting short video fishing reports and general B.S. from the river each day. Trust me, it isn’t pretty, but its current. The videos are listed under “Fishing Reports” on our website http://www.classicjourneyoutfitters.com/montana-fly-fishing-reports/missoula-montana-fly-fishing-reports.htm *********
www.classicjourneyoutfitters.com
27 February 2010
Written by
joe (
)
Published on February 27th, 2010 @ 10:58:24 am, using 933 words, 85 views
By the time I finish the season in October my boat bag and fly boxes look more like hook soup than a trout technician’s tool box. Early on in the season its easy to admire all the flies lined up perfectly ready for battle, but by September when I cut them off at the end of day I am more worried about hustling to get home and eat a meal before 9 p.m., so I throw them in whatever box that happens to be open and coil up the remaining tippet still attached so they fit in an ill closed box.
I dread seeing the car wreck of flies in March at my kitchen table that I ignored in October, but you have to start over each year organized and figure out what needs to get replenished for next season. So I grab my boat bag and go through fly stew to put it all back together.
Here are my Main Boxes and what I learned about last season-
Stonefly Box - Pretty much same old same old. We had big water last year so my big posted puffy supply is mangled and low. On a low water year I would see a bunch of sleek bullets heads missing.
Spring Box - I don’t have a single Fat Freddie left. Its a local Grandfather Guide creation and I like mine tied a very specific way, so I have to tie them myself. No shop sells them how I want them to look and float. It’s a pain for me to do the work, but its a belief bug and I have caughts thousands of trout on them when the boat ramp is filled with ass-kicked anglers scratching their heads. Thank you John Faust.
Bugger Box - This one rarely runs low. I don’t have a bunch of clients that like this game in a way that eats flies. White legged stuff, sculpins, olive of every size, and Bald Eagles dominate my box. I never have been a fan of black but I keep it stocked. The black streamers are old looking as they rarely get wet. Honestly, its how you swim it so they probably all work.
Fall May Fly - I keep every size and stage of our fall Olives loaded. Some years they are really bastards about it, but the last two I have been able to throw a bunch of high viz parachutes. Don’t know why, I usually have shooters that month so I am able to hold the boat out further and get away with an easy fly.
Hopper Box - Oh how this one changes when a new hot fly comes through. When I started it was parachute hoppers, then old tan and black chernobyl ants, then the club sandwich, then fat albert, and now Morrish hoppers. I have come full circle on what I like and my box has olot of old stuff in it. But I am a sucker for anything with pink and a low slung wing. Its still macho to throw pink hoppers, you just need to be careful in which Bitterroot Valley bar you brag about it in.
July Box - Mainly PMDs and Caddis here. I use the heck out of quigley cripples and La Fontaine’s sparkle pupas with the big hair wings. July is a consistent month and my use in the box reflects it. I always have some re-filling to do.
All six of these boxes are large lure style boxes and loaded to the gills, but I have one more box - the box of shame.
The Dreaded Nymph Box - It is approximately a fifth of the size of only one of my dry fly boxes, but its stain is permeates my whole boat bag. I wish I didn’t have to pack it all, but the reality of the fishing every day is the need for droppers. Having the right dropper off the back of the dry fly can mean everthing when you need a trout with a high sun and light hatch. Also there will be upswellings of put-a-bobber-on double nymph rig fishing when you can do the evil stuff. Like hook 40 sitting a boat ramp waiting to go fishing, like a beginner slop casting off my oar and pounding big fish all day, like double san juan worms rigs ……………………..( sorry I threw up a little in my mouth there) like double san juan worm rigs in the dirt of high water for gorging 2-footer brown trout, its not really fly fishing but its hard to walk away from an exploited feed situation. This is moped fishing - you don’t want anyone to see you doing it, but it does get you places. I don’t care how intricate a weighted rig I have tied up, I always have them cut-off or hidden before I hit a boat ramp. I may do it, but I will not testify in a court of law it occurred - I plead the Fifth. I use about 5 kinds of nymphs……………………….(sorry, I started to sicken myself again) and I buy them by the 2 dozens. If they don’t work I know some Lewis and Clark stories and bad jokes to fill the day with, because there is only so far I will dig into that rabbit hole.
After going through my inventory I find that my choices center on what I like to throw and what I want to see fish eat. That decision leaves bead head nymph eating fish out of my boat some days.
I’m okay with that.
www.classicjourneyoutfitters.com
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