I have not created a new post since December, so much to my disbelief, this is officially my first post of 2014.
Drunken Prayer "Into the Missionfield"
Really, in the fly-fishing realm of reality, not much has happened. I've made two trips north over the past six months: one during Spring break, and the other a couple of weeks ago. I did pretty well on both of those romps, taking a good number of trout on the Spring, White, and Norfork Rivers. Each time I go fishing, I take my old friend the GoPro with me and alternate between vids and pics as I attempt to capture the action. This has caused a backlog on my SD card of footage dating back to last Summer's epic adventure out west. I am winding up the final couple weeks of summer school teaching at the local college here and am currently (of course) planning new trips for July and August. It is time to clean my SD card and make room for additional great footage of all those toads I'll be catching this summer. So let's just call this the first installment of my greatest hits of 2013. This particular video is a compilation of a great fall morning on the Spring River where I pounded fish after fish on Woolly Buggers. Most of the fish were small, but there were a couple of really good bow's in the mix. I can tell my old footage from new footage because I've replaced my old net that had a black rubber bag with a sweet new Nomad with a clear "ghost" net. Also, I've begun experimenting with the addition of music to my vid and this one feature's Drunken Prayer's "Ain't No Grave," and Los Lobo's "Hearts of Stone." I hope you enjoy...
Accidental GoPro self-portrait. If you've got one, you know where I'm coming from
Randy Berndt's Logo God has blessed me in so many ways. My beautiful wife, Laurie, allows me to fly-fish all over the country. Sometimes she accompanies me. But more often than not, due to a demanding work schedule, she is unable to go. I want to begin this post by thanking her for loving me enough to let me roam and scratch my itch whenever possible. My latest trip was a year removed from initial planning and originally was to be an extension of a two-week jaunt out west last summer with two of my closest friends, Randy and Jean Carr from Louisiana. We fished various trout rivers in Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana and were scheduled to swing over to the UP (Upper Peninsula), or “upstate” Michigan to fish with another dear friend, Randy Berndt. ...
Arose with the chickens on Sunday and called Frying Pan Anglers in Basalt, Colorado, to find out where they were. These guys are awesome, first-class all the way. They hooked me up with a Colorado license, flies, a neat cap and threw in a bumper sticker to boot. With the aid of a map, I was soon driving down Frying Pan Road looking for a place to start. While I was rigging up the Scott G2, a guide from Frying Pan Anglers, Cameron Cipponeri, found me and agreed to show me the lay of the land. Right off the bat we found a pod of tipping risers voraciously feeding on a midge hatch. They were stacked up in a deep seam like cord wood. I lost count of how many we caught, but I will say that my day was very rewarding. Cam even took me to a little spring creek (Taylor Creek) and we caught a few large bows on lime trudes. Kept waiting for the PMDs to explode but they never did. Cameron, you're the greatest. Props to Frying Pan Ang...
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. "T...
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