Sunday, June 17, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Cutthroats
Just got back from a splendid outing on the upper reaches of the Coeur d'Alene River. Went to my favorite spots and had them to myself which is always nice. The road runs alongside the river for over 30 miles and I saw about 6 vehicles pulled off and people fly fishing on the drive there. Obviously I was concerned about the overcrowding. I once drove all the way to my most special spot and never saw anybody fishing on the hour long drive until I drove up to the pullout and there was a truck there. I pitched a little fit, swore some mighty oaths and was really torqued that it had Washington plates. But not today, I parked and put on my waders and strung up my rod and was fishing in just a few minutes.
I caught one nice one in the little run I always catch one in (unless I miss it) I worked my way upstream to the bend in the river where there is a huge log jam. Every year after spring runoff this log jam is a bit different but the huge logs are still there. This year it had changed quite a bit but was still loaded with fish, especially smaller cutts that seek shelter in the many spots that the trees provide. I caught so many little cutts that I got sick of it and would pull my fly away if I could see the little buggers coming. Catching a six inch cutt is fun the first five times and then you have enough of it. I did snag a few 12 inchers in there.
About this time I finally lost the elk hair caddis I had been using, I left it in a fish's lip. I tied on a new one and cast a few times and noticed the damn fly wasn't there. I pulled the leader in and tied a new one on, I snagged it on a branch in a deep pool and lost it right away. I'm a little ticked at losing three flies in five minutes but decide it's time for a sit down and tie on a new leader. I find a nice log in the river and kick back and have a drink and slowly tie up a new leader and fly, real nice like. I pick a really nice parachute Adams and apply floatant to it and puff the hackle up just right. I admire my handy work and relax for a few more minutes. I see a pretty nice fish rise just upstream from me so I stand up and cast to it. The cast is graceful the drift pure and the trout rises with confidence. I set the hook with skill, I feel the tug and then the fly pops out. The line shoots back at me and is heading for some branches so I haul forward quickly to prevent a snag. Quick thinking that results in a crack the whip effect and I hear a snap as my new leader and fly disappear in the great blue yonder. Son - of - a - bitch. All part of the game though and I get over it quickly.
I decide to head to my second most favorite spot a few miles downstream. As I got close to my truck I noticed a car pulled up next to it and two yahoos from Washington were standing there decked out like a couple of Orvis models, except the one guy was about five feet tall and weighed 300 pounds. He was testing the limits of an old pair of blue neoprene waders and had a big hat and a not so bright look on his face. I was casting nonchalantly as I walked back just letting the fly drift while I worked my way downstream. As luck would have it a beautiful 16 incher rose and I set up and landed it right in front of them. They were watching carefully and a few casts later I landed a fat little 12 incher that made a few jumps and fought the good fight. The fat little guy was cleary impressed and slapped his knee and shook his head admiringly. I crossed the river and got in my truck. The chubby dude had his foot on the bumper of his car trying to tie his wading boot and was wobbling around. As I pulled away I saw him with a bootlace in each hand as he slowly but surely went over backwards flat on his back with a thump. He lay motionless for a few seconds and as I looked in my rear view mirror as I drove off I saw his arm come up with the middle finger extended. Ten minutes later I quit laughing.
I caught one nice one in the little run I always catch one in (unless I miss it) I worked my way upstream to the bend in the river where there is a huge log jam. Every year after spring runoff this log jam is a bit different but the huge logs are still there. This year it had changed quite a bit but was still loaded with fish, especially smaller cutts that seek shelter in the many spots that the trees provide. I caught so many little cutts that I got sick of it and would pull my fly away if I could see the little buggers coming. Catching a six inch cutt is fun the first five times and then you have enough of it. I did snag a few 12 inchers in there.
About this time I finally lost the elk hair caddis I had been using, I left it in a fish's lip. I tied on a new one and cast a few times and noticed the damn fly wasn't there. I pulled the leader in and tied a new one on, I snagged it on a branch in a deep pool and lost it right away. I'm a little ticked at losing three flies in five minutes but decide it's time for a sit down and tie on a new leader. I find a nice log in the river and kick back and have a drink and slowly tie up a new leader and fly, real nice like. I pick a really nice parachute Adams and apply floatant to it and puff the hackle up just right. I admire my handy work and relax for a few more minutes. I see a pretty nice fish rise just upstream from me so I stand up and cast to it. The cast is graceful the drift pure and the trout rises with confidence. I set the hook with skill, I feel the tug and then the fly pops out. The line shoots back at me and is heading for some branches so I haul forward quickly to prevent a snag. Quick thinking that results in a crack the whip effect and I hear a snap as my new leader and fly disappear in the great blue yonder. Son - of - a - bitch. All part of the game though and I get over it quickly.
I decide to head to my second most favorite spot a few miles downstream. As I got close to my truck I noticed a car pulled up next to it and two yahoos from Washington were standing there decked out like a couple of Orvis models, except the one guy was about five feet tall and weighed 300 pounds. He was testing the limits of an old pair of blue neoprene waders and had a big hat and a not so bright look on his face. I was casting nonchalantly as I walked back just letting the fly drift while I worked my way downstream. As luck would have it a beautiful 16 incher rose and I set up and landed it right in front of them. They were watching carefully and a few casts later I landed a fat little 12 incher that made a few jumps and fought the good fight. The fat little guy was cleary impressed and slapped his knee and shook his head admiringly. I crossed the river and got in my truck. The chubby dude had his foot on the bumper of his car trying to tie his wading boot and was wobbling around. As I pulled away I saw him with a bootlace in each hand as he slowly but surely went over backwards flat on his back with a thump. He lay motionless for a few seconds and as I looked in my rear view mirror as I drove off I saw his arm come up with the middle finger extended. Ten minutes later I quit laughing.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Me and You & a Kid Named Boo
We took the driftboat on it's maiden 2007 voyage last weekend. Lisa even went on this one. Record breaking temperatures into the mid 90's were brutal but we went anyway. The problem with temps that hot this early in the year is that the water is still freezin ass cold. So, you can't jump in and you can't stay out. On a bright hot day the fishing was slow too but we had a good time. Not too many people on the river and it was a spectacular day. Throwing a nice tight loop out there felt good. We are going to run the Clark Fork next time, hell yea.
Monday, June 04, 2007
The Perfect Woman
She's pretty, smart, sexy, sweet, makes money and more. But now oh lordy I have hit the big time.... This is a picture of my little woman rowing my driftboat down the Coeur d'Alene River while I flyfish from the bow. It doesn't get much better than this folks.
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