Tailwater Tribe

Brutally hot today in Gulfport! Still have cold water on the brain. Looking forward to Labor Day weekend. Until then, I'll tie some hoppers and hope the action is still on when I get there...

O Good to get the cobwebs off the Native 12 and paddle today. Caught a couple flounder and two small croakers on a cotton candy clouser I tied myself. Rewa

O Kayaking on Bernard Bayou in Gulfport, Mississippi: My home town. Wanted to be hopper fishing today in AR, but I'll have to be satisfied with the salt.

Despite our inherent competitive nature, despite our pride, sometimes it's not about catching fish, it's about the adventure.  After all, the true purpose of fly fishing is not numbers, it's exploring new venues, embracing old ones, enjoying the process, living in the moment.  On the Tailwater Tribe Fly Fishing Tour, I've been swinging solo in some of the most remote, breathtaking trout rivers in America, flying by the seat of my pants, traveling from fly shop to fly shop garnering what information I could.  Gazetteers and river maps are my best friends as I move from access point to access point.  Today is no exception.  I must admit when I took Highway 84 out of Bozeman for a day of exploration on the Madison River, I had visions of wadable water and massive hatches of Salmonflies in the air.  Naiveity of geography and limited knowledge of this storied river were my enimies on this beautiful day.  But this naiveity led me down long, dusty gravel roads and into remote

Day 2 on the Gallatin was diametrically opposed to day one.  The previous day we had fished in shirt sleeves with temperatures in the high 70's.  This day, as Randall and I drove out of Bozeman and climbed higher into the Gallatin Mountains, the skies were slate gray and the temperature inside Randy's SUV read 39 degrees.  We stopped at Wolf Creek Campground and donned the fleece, waders and raingear, the skies started spitting sleet.  I was not deterred in the least, and much to my delight, neither was Randall.  Randall is a true tailwater tribesman and I am proud to have him as a member of my tribe.  As I mentioned in my last post, Randall won't back down from temperature extremes, weather events, grizzly bears, or whatever mother nature dishes out.  Once again, we started at Swan Creek access and hit all the spots we'd hit the day before.  As the weather improved, so did the fishing.  We were particularly pleased to see numerous Salmonflies and Golden Stones coming

After spending a week presenting my thesis, defending my thesis, and attending a lab safety class at Montana State University in Bozeman, I had a week off to fish.  With it's close proximity to Bozeman, a good place to start was the Gallatin.  I met a classmate from Wisconsin the previous week who shared my passion for fly fishing--Randall Berndt, Randall was knowledgeable about the area and agreed to show me the ropes on the Gallatin.  The river below Taylor Fork was still high and stained, but we did not let this deter us.  On Sunday, we left Bozeman and traveled south through Gallatin Gateway on 191 toward West Yellowstone.  Our first stop was  the Swan Creek confluence pull off.  As we assembled our rods and donned our waders, two large Mule Deer bucks still in velvet jumped out of the woods and stood a mere twenty feet away from us.  They stared for a few moments and then disappeared.  "This is a good omen," Randall said.  I had to agree. I had a little experience w

I am a diehard Southern Miss fan.  I grew up 20 minutes from our beautiful campus in Hattiesburg, Mississippi.  My mom was the first graduate in our family, and as a matter of fact, was the first college graduate in her family.  My dad followed, receiving his B.S. and M.S. after a stint in the Air Force.  My sister followed, and then my brother-in-law.  I followed later on (class of 1988), and then my niece came along and finished her undergrad in Nursing and is currently completing her Masters in Nursing as we speak. Do you see a pattern developing?  With such a rich family tradition based in Golden Eagle Country, I decided to branch out and pursue a Masters degree in trout country.  The thing that swayed my decision--an article in Fly Rod and Reel Magazine placing Montana State University in Bozeman, Montana at the top of the list in their "Top Ten Trout Universities."  Upon further research, I found out that the legendary Bud Lilly, founder of Bud Lilly's Trout Shop w

It's Friday, Day 7 of the Tailwater Tribe Fly Fishing Tour.  I awoke from my post at the Westwood Inn in West Yellowstone, Montana early, grabbed a tank of gas for Darth and got a cup of joe.  I jumped on Highway 20 which runs Southwest of West Yellowstone into Idaho.  Thirty miles later I arrived in Island Park, ID and paid a visit to Trout Hunters Fly Shop (see my link under "My Favorite Fly Shops."),  These guys were extremely helpful with directions and flies.  Found out that the PMDs were coming off en masse and that I was right on the "cusp" of the Green Drake hatch.  With plenty of information and directions in hand, I departed down Idaho Highway 20 for Harriman's Ranch.  I parked across the road, put on the waders and boots, assembled the Scott G2 and was off to the Ranch!  There are no vehicles allowed on Harriman's Ranch property, so I had a 1.1 mile hike into the Henry's.  The scenery was breathtaking in this scrub prarie landscape.  Sag

After tossing and turning all night with visions of PMDs dancing in my head, I arose from my post at the Westwood Motel in West Yellowstone, Montana and headed out.  The previous day I had spied a little fly shop in town that looked really cool.  To top it off, it had a really catchy name; The West Yellowstone Fly Shop.  How does that grab you?  No cutesy names here, just a plain, ol' B flat, no nonsense fly shop!!!  My kind of place so I couldn't resist.  Justin Spence, the owner greeted me at the door and was extremely polite, knowledgable and helpful.  I whipped out my trusty map and he started marking, giving me many options and ideas for places to fish during my adventure.  Before I left, he hooked me up with some more PMD and caddis imitations.  Thank you Justin!  You're the best.  Check out the link to Justin's Shop in "My Favorite Fly Shops" section of this blog.  With all of this new knowledge and new flies I was about to break out in hives to get to

After a LONG day of fruitless pursuit of wadable water on the North Platte, I made a run for it.  I made it as far as Riverton, WY, where I bedded down at a Motel 8.  By nine the next morning I had made reservations at the Westwood Motel in West Yellowstone and was on my way west to Montana.  I must say this was a magnificent drive as I moved toward and through Grand Teton National Park and then on to Yellowstone.  In the higher elevations of the Tetons snow was on the ground in abundance--kind of a shock for a Mississippi boy like me.  Snow in June?  Out of the question.  After six hours of breathtaking scenery, I was finally in West Yellowstone, a place I was familar with.  My wife Laurie and I had been up there a few years back and did two days with Nick Nicolas, one of the elder statesmen at Blue Ribbon Flies.  We had a great time fishing the PMD hatch on the Gallatin and Madison.  As soon as I got into West Yellowstone, I went by the Yellowstone National Park Office and purchased

After scratching off two rivers on my "Rivers I have to fish this summer" and catching a ton of fish on both, I have to admit I was feeling a little cocky.  After all, these western trout aren't as hard to catch as I thought...Think again.  Today's mission on day 4 of the Tailwater Tribe Fly Fishing Tour" was Casper, Wyoming and the famous North Platte River.  After several close calls with jackrabbits and mule deer the day before coming out of Flaming Gorge after fishing the Green River in Utah, I almost added another casualty to my list...A Pronghorn Antelope, the only true native deer relative to the US.  The rest of our deer and their kin supposedly migrated from Eurasia across the Bering Bridge from Russia.  This bridge, of course, does not exist anymore and what's left above the Pacific Ocean is the Bering Straights.  The antelope sprinted to the side of the road and almost ran into my truck.  I applied the brakes, which prompted some other tailgating v

You know what a music lover I am.  One of my favorite songs by Steely Dan is "My Rival" from the album "Gaucho," which starts with the lyrics: "The wind was driving in my face, the "smell of prickly pear."  I can really relate to that now, but more on that later.  You can listen to the song while you read the rest of my post. Now that I've scratched off the Frying Pan on my "Rivers I have to fish this Summer" list, I was on a new quest.  Cameron at Frying Pan Anglers strongly recommended the Green and I could not resist!  The next morning I got back in the F-150 and drove through 220 miles of grueling Colorado and Utah badlands country.  Just like Colorado, Utah is simply breathtaking.  It was all I could do to go more than 15 minutes without stopping to take a pic.  Entered Flaming Gorge National Forest and finally wound up in the town of Dutch John, Utah where I found the Green River Fly Shop.  These guys were really fascinated that