tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266207332024-03-13T04:04:04.877-06:00Schmidt's WalkaboutsI learned of the term “Walkabout's” from Jimmy Buffets first book “Tales of Margaritaville.” Tully Mars and his ensuing Walkabout played a major role in Jimmy's first book as a wandering soul escaping from the absurdity of ranch life that had gone mad. Later I learned of the Australian origins of the term Walkabout. Since then I've always felt that Walkabout's fit nicely into the world of fly fishing and our journey in life chasing fish across our planet with a wisp of feather and tread.Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-2557433625148174102015-03-06T14:06:00.000-07:002015-03-06T14:15:54.618-07:00Jimmy "V"<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b><span style="font-size: 11pt;">he
other day I got a call from Jim Vincent; one of this industries more innovative
personalities, a great stick regardless of species, and at one time a prolific
writer.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Fortuitously I had him queued up
for my next Throwback article after I came across this photo I took of him
bowing while fast to a pissed off tarpon.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">For those not familiar with who he is, Jim and his wife Kitty began RIO,
a leader, tippet and fly line company that changed all aspects of terminal
tackle as we know them today.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He sold
the company a decade ago, yet he still helps them pursue perfection when it
comes to the products that RIO offers.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">That is, however</span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> when he's not fishing or chasing upland game, which he
does a fair amount of now that he's retired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mQFTi0VZXvE/VPoXNV5iT1I/AAAAAAAABr4/myR2EVKHGcs/s1600/Jimmy%2BV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: white;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mQFTi0VZXvE/VPoXNV5iT1I/AAAAAAAABr4/myR2EVKHGcs/s1600/Jimmy%2BV.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></span></a><span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In 1990
or 91 I met Jim and Kitty at a buyers show in Denver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had some cleaver little gadgets, some
waterproof journals<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and a few other nick
knacks in their 10' X 10' booth , but nothing in particular that would lead one
to believe that they would one day turn the fly line industry on it's
head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim and I hit it off .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our common ground for chasing steelhead and
fishing the Henry's Fork has led to a long relationship, yet it was the
steelhead game that created that first ah ha moment with he and Kitty's new
found company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">When I
began the steelhead game I quickly learned that the only leader and tippet
material you used was Maxima.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those
who pursued these fish there were simply no other viable choices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned that the hard way, but that's
another story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although it was a tough
material, their system for keeping it on the spool was useless and a constant
source of frustration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was always a
tangled mess and in various stages of unwind in your vest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was until Jim came up with Tippet
Tamers. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Most of
you probably have never heard of this product, but at the time the two rubber
sowing machine belts that came in each package of Tippet Tamers when fit
securely around a spool of Maxima solved this chronic problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next to meeting these two charismatic people
from RIO, of all the cool stuff I saw at that show,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>there was nothing I was more exited about
than those.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It
wasn't too long after we met that I started to learn how to use a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spey rod.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unlike today where one has a variety of ways<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to quickly queue up a Spey casting lesson, I
learned from a set of simple stick figure drawings that Jim sent me. Like most
things fly-fishing he was always out front of the game and at the time he was
the only person I knew who had taken up the big rod.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn't the easiest way to learn, but
between my frequent phone conversation with Jim, what books I could find on the
subject, and an eventual lesson from him that I started to figure it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm sure I drove him nuts. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tgKb_5q62Gc/VPoXucZcLoI/AAAAAAAABsA/oRGG1ingfKk/s1600/86530044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: white;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tgKb_5q62Gc/VPoXucZcLoI/AAAAAAAABsA/oRGG1ingfKk/s1600/86530044.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></span></a><span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Coincidentally
at about that that same time Jim, Kelly Watt and a few other creative
steelheaders were working on what would become the first modern Spey line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some years later RIO would eventually bring a
version of it to market.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before Spey
lines were available you simply used a very large double taper fly line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These lifeless lines simply sucked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No other way to put it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim was still in the gadget phase of his
business and had yet to contract with the Cortland Line company to build his
first RIO fly lines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So Jim and his
buddies started manually splicing together 3 to 4 different fly line sections
to make what would eventually become the first performance based Spey
line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was fortunate to get some of
those early formulas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although a serious
and expensive pain in the ass to construct, they were a significant improvement
over the old double taper lines we initially were forced to use. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Jim's
dedication towards manufacturing<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the
best fly lines, leaders and tippets became evident when he invited me to join
him on one of his two week saltwater R & D sessions in Key West.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Twice a year, Jim and members of his RIO
team would work with key dealers on improving the growing line of RIO
products.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First in Key West, then with a
fall trip to the Missouri River.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew
little of these trips, but by now I knew Jim pretty well and knew above all he
liked to fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although we did plenty
of that, the R & D part was far more extensive than what I had originally
surmised. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">From the
moment I arrived in Key West my initial perception of what was going to go down
for my brief stay was throttled .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
was stuff everywhere in the living room of the house he'd rented, and by stuff
I mean boxes of fly lines, leaders, backing<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>tippet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a corner stood a pile of rods. Strewn
across the kitchen table and counter were an array of very nice saltwater reels
loaded with the latest fly lines to test.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sitting off to the side was another pile of reels ready to receive the
next saltwater prototype.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was an
overwhelming and impressive sight , but what really impressed me was Jim
constant focus. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">After
our day on the water Jim was still processing how the products we tested
performed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the middle of dinner he
pulled out a small pad and pen and began to write down his impressions, some
calculations and thoughts we'd just discussed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As much as he had been driven to become a very talented and diverse
flyfisher, it was evident as well that he was equally motivated to build a
successful fly-fishing company and the best products in the business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the years that pad and pen became a
familiar item I'd see Jim scribbling on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even in our most recent conversation he was still tweaking and refining
that which he set in motion over twenty years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just can't let that inquisitive process
rest. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fbgHUXHIWpM/VPoYZuCmvSI/AAAAAAAABsI/ldYDp3x1ohU/s1600/86530049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: white;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fbgHUXHIWpM/VPoYZuCmvSI/AAAAAAAABsI/ldYDp3x1ohU/s1600/86530049.JPG" height="173" width="320" /></span></a><span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">One of
my most memorable encounters with Jim involved my son, Mike. It was almost a
decade after we'd met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My son and I were
on the Henry's Fork when he was around 12 or 13 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since the Henry's Fork was in Jim's back
yard, it wasn't unusual to find he<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>or
Kitty chillin in their Airstream or fishing these fabled waters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We came across Jim<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and watched him proceed to hook a nice
rainbow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nonchalantly with trout in tow,
he waded over to us casually handing my son the rod and briefly instructed him
on how to land this fish, which Mike eventually did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mike at his young age didn't have any
experience with a fish like this, and I remember Jim telling him<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"if the fish wants to run, let him
run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it stops reel it in". I
still crack up a little when ever I think about that moment knowing that as
easy as he made it sound, for those of us who fish this river we know this to
be far from true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Although
those that know Jim recognize him for his business success, few knew him as a
gifted writer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's a rare steelhead
season when I don't pull out one of his old articles in Gray's Sporting
Journal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I liked about his writing,
other than he was a great story teller, is he never gave away his waters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There may be hints in his writings, but he
never<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>promoted the rivers he
fished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the advent of social
media, and selfies I'm sure Jim's aversion to todays frivolous practices leaves
him rolling his eyes rolls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you like
good writing, and can procure any of his old articles, I would recommend doing
so, especially if you steelhead fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Although he hasn't written a piece in a while, now that he's got more
time, I wish he'd put pen to paper once again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There
have been a number of people who<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>have
come to know in this industry, some more influential then others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim was one of the later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before we hung up, we got onto the subject of
steelheading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's pretty rare that we
don't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's one thing we have never
done together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Given his contributions
to my steeheading prowess, while I still can I hope that's something we'll be
able to do<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that, especially while we
still have t time.</span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div style="color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-25055933584120175242015-01-31T10:14:00.000-07:002015-01-31T10:14:47.130-07:00The Hat <div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">If you fish you have
hats. Hats for fishing, hats for wearing
out, and then there is that growing pile of hats that remind you of place and
time you don't want to forget. My old
Resistol is one of those hats, one that I still have, yet one that these days
just keeps a peg in my house company.
Over years of serving me well it's earned that. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I remember taking
this photo like it was yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
in the late 80's at the take out below a place we fondly knew as Seaton
Camp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I help build this steelhead camp
back in 1986, the same year I started Western Rivers Flyfisher after returning
home from that incredible fall experience in BC.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That year the two Bulkley Mice, one tan, one
black were added to the hat band, but the steelhead pin would become a part of
this well worn later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ALxADHjom-w/VM0L4k41RJI/AAAAAAAABqc/eqHGlL_4pOo/s1600/Throwback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ALxADHjom-w/VM0L4k41RJI/AAAAAAAABqc/eqHGlL_4pOo/s1600/Throwback.jpg" height="219" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That fall I was
fortunate to guide a group who lived in the east; Stan, Marty,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and Giorgio in particular.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Giorgio was probably one of the best dry fly
steeheaders I've ever fished with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
learned a lot from this guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember
our last day together we were paired with this ass who kept accusing me of
putting Giorgio in all the buckets, when in fact he got all the buckets that
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Giorgio fished shit water and had
one of the best days of dry fly steelheading I've seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was that good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Marty was a decent
stick and he'd had a good week, but going into our last day poor Stan still
hadn't caught a steelhead. If you fish for these fish you know what it feels
like to not be hooking up when others are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It happens to us all, but in this particular circumstance for Stan<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>his misfortunes carried a more significant
burden. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Stan pulled me aside
that final morning at breakfast and said he wanted to go out with me for the
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We'd already spent a day together,
and I really enjoyed this kind old gentleman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With Giorgio now out of the equation, fishing was so good he left early
to be with his girlfriend, it would just be Stan and I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although I wouldn't have called myself a
seasoned steelheader at this point in my life, I know enough to know that the
more you want one of the fish, the harder they are to come by and I understood
this all too well as the day unfolded. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Like the photo of
the hat, I remember the day well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before
lunch Stan hooked a big fish, one that he struggled to handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a long fight, it came unbuttoned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I buried my face in my hands in
disbelief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the morning sun we stat
down to contemplate our misfortune and the opportunity lost, the weight of his
burden growing heavier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we got up,
Stan turned to me and made an emotional request.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before he headed home he wanted just one
steelhead, no more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Given his age, I
knew this would be trip he'd probably not do again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In the next piece of
water,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indian Summer, Stan caught his
fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After tailing it, I handed to him
to hold for a photo and to have the opportunity to feel what it's like to have
one of these incredible fish in ones hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After he let it go,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with tears in
his eyes, he walked over and gave me a hug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was a special moment, one in life I'll never forget.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But, there's more to
this story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember that pin?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We'll in the summer of 87 Stan sent me that
gold pin in memory of that day, that moment that we shared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, the pin no longer sits in
that old hat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day I returned home
from butting my dad to rest and settling his affairs, someone broke into our
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Upon first inspection it appeared
they didn't get much that was worth anything. Several month later I realized by
happenstance they ended up with the first nice reel I ever bought myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was an old Hardy Marquis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Several more month passed when in the middle
of the night I woke realizing they'd gotten my steelhead box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was pretty devastating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Several years had passed before I noticed
that the gold pin was missing from my hat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I stared at the small black dot in the center of the hat where the pin
was in utter disbelief. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I remember looking
through my old photo's for this Throwback project and coming upon this
photo. There were a lot of mixed
emotions that came out when I saw it.
When it was all said and done this photo reminds me of an incredible
year and a gentle old man who I met and
shared a very special day with almost 30 years ago. </span></div>
Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-79809364262338263662012-12-19T14:14:00.002-07:002012-12-19T14:14:58.332-07:00Victory for the Skeena Watershed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HoyAMrXmf6g/UNIt2JjilcI/AAAAAAAABcM/azBM0TgMt7U/s1600/BC+JEPG+2010+(25+of+29).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HoyAMrXmf6g/UNIt2JjilcI/AAAAAAAABcM/azBM0TgMt7U/s320/BC+JEPG+2010+(25+of+29).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: NittiWM-Light; font-size: 22px;">"We did it" proclaims <b>The Skeena Watershed Conservation Coalition </b>header on their web-site. A decade long battle to preserve the Sacred Headwaters ended favorably 12-18-2012. Couldn't think of better Holiday gift. As the Coalition proclaims in their press release; </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: NittiWM-Light; font-size: 22px;">“Coalbed methane development to be permanently banned from headwaters of major salmon rivers VANCOUVER - The B.C. government announced today that Shell would be withdrawing its plans to develop coalbed methane in the Klappan-Groundhog tenure area in northwest British Columbia. The government will also not issue oil and gas tenures in the area in the future”. Read more....<a href="http://skeenawatershed.com/news/article/historic_protection_for_bcs_sacred_headwaters_announced">http://skeenawatershed.com/news/article/historic_protection_for_bcs_sacred_headwaters_announced</a>. This is an epic bit of news. It's nice to win one for a change.....</span>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-22750172331325147492012-12-11T15:31:00.006-07:002012-12-11T20:13:47.885-07:00An Environmental Fiscal Cliff<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jXSMTaff-hM/UMexQC1_3mI/AAAAAAAABbU/_0aPI9Z5yTw/s1600/Huntington+JEPGS+7-11+(2+of+6).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jXSMTaff-hM/UMexQC1_3mI/AAAAAAAABbU/_0aPI9Z5yTw/s400/Huntington+JEPGS+7-11+(2+of+6).jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Before the Senate this December, among other stuff, is the <b>Sportsman Heritage Act</b>; a “Fiscal Cliff” of its own regarding the impact this bill will have on wilderness, wildlife and the outdoor experience. Fortunately given the significance of fiscal matters before the Senate they may not have an opportunity to put this controversial bill on the table. On the other hand, it may pass unnoticed under the shadow of other more pressing matters. That would be unfortunate and significant. Although the bill pertains to hunting, shooting and fishing specifically this ill conceived bill will affect a wide range of outdoor enthusiasts. If you haven’t read or followed this bill, which I’m finding few have, and you fish or simply enjoy quiet places you’ll want to pay attention. Better yet, get involved. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The most significant problem with <b>H.R.4089</b>, the <b>Sportsman Heritage Act</b>, is the impact it will have on the way federal agencies make management decisions on public lands: Forest Service, BLM, wilderness, wilderness study areas, wild and scenic and national monument lands; decisions that affect wildlife, their habitats, and the outdoor experience. As it stands now the appropriate agencies analyze the effects that activities such as hunting, fishing and shooting have on public lands. The analysis is done according to the <b>National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA)</b>. For those not familiar with NEPA, the process requires that the cumulative affect from activities such as these that occur on public lands be analyzed. This critical and in-depth process is vital in managing public lands to preserve and protect wildlife and their critical habitats. In other words should <b>H.R. 4089</b> pass those agencies that have been in charge of evaluating and implementing best practices to protect and preserve wildlife will no longer do so. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uYw01Zd4Gp0/UMexrKyxPGI/AAAAAAAABb0/ctv2x9IY_AU/s1600/Huntington.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uYw01Zd4Gp0/UMexrKyxPGI/AAAAAAAABb0/ctv2x9IY_AU/s320/Huntington.JPG" height="209" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">If you read the second statement in the bill <b>Section 102</b> under <b>Findings</b> it states, "recreational anglers and hunters have been and continue to be among the foremost supporters of sound fish and wildlife management and conservation in the United States”. Again under <b>Findings Section 102</b> the third reference states, “recreational fishing and hunting are environmentally acceptable and beneficial activities that occur and can be provided on Federal public lands and waters without adverse effects on other uses or users”. These are simply egregious statements. To say that hunting and angling have no significant impacts on wildlife, habitats and other users is not correct. I have been in the outdoor business for 25 years and have spent a lifetime recreating. There are few places left on this planet, let alone this country where we haven’t had significant impacts to habitats and those wildlife that depend on them for their existence. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Also of concern in <b>H.R. 4089</b> is the <b>Hunting, Fishing, and Recreational Shooting Protection Act</b>, which is one of the firearms industry's top legislative priorities. The bill amends the <b>Toxic Substances Control Act</b> to clarify the original intent of Congress to exclude traditional ammunition; ammunition containing lead components and fishing tackle from regulation by the EPA. </span><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PK8tLQ9VwC4/UMexqrDa5sI/AAAAAAAABbs/m9xQI6u5oFM/s1600/Bill+LFH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PK8tLQ9VwC4/UMexqrDa5sI/AAAAAAAABbs/m9xQI6u5oFM/s320/Bill+LFH.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There’s a reason that lead shot and sinkers have been banned in some states, several National Parks such as Yellowstone, because lead shot and sinkers when ingested by waterfowl and raptors is lethal. On the east coast prior to the ban of lead sinkers for angling 50% of all Loon deaths were attributed to the ingestion of lead sinkers that were left discarded by anglers. In the west desert prior to a federal ban on lead shot when hunting upland game and waterfowl, 30% of all Golden Eagles tested were found to have ingested lead shot. The impact these lead products have on waterfowl and raptors is devastating and well documented. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This bill was crafted with the hopes of enticing more users into hunting and fishing and raise badly need revenues. In the short term,it may have some impact on increasing the number of those who recreate,and sell more hunting and fishing licenses, yet I would suspect those increases will be incremental if at all. Those benefits from additional revenues, however will be short lived. Without the ability to regulate the impact of these uses and users and implement sound environmental practices to preserve and protect these critical habitats they will surely decline, the experience for those who now push to open these areas eventually eroded. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There are other aspects of this bill that are also concerning. There is a potential for more roads and structures to accommodate access in wilderness where deemed necessary, but the main points I've raised are what concern me and other the most. I urge you to write your senators and have them vote against this poorly crafted bill. Time is of the essence. Here is a link: <a href="http://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/112/hr4089/text" style="background-color: #cccccc;">http://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/112/hr4089/text</a> to the bill in its entirety. Like all bills you may need some help in deciphering it. I did. If you Google H.R. 4089 you’ll find plenty of viewpoints. As an angler and outdoor enthusiast, I feel H.B. 4089 will lead to the loss of critical habitats that are the lifeblood of our nations fisheries and over time significantly impact my fishing and outdoor experience. These areas need to be protect, need to be regulated not only for wildlife, but for those fortunate enough to experience them, today, tomorrow and in the future. </span>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-31319053696208456092012-11-18T22:13:00.000-07:002012-11-18T22:13:54.959-07:00It Ain't Easy<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 13.5pt;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzx1LXMJ_ihpdUvL4HIfnEWw_m42gA8oodfHGDgGpJDmFASAKMnA_5348j7xOzUvVrmjmTBNORMeqrt-4yKESoCHILj-shyLYIEff6OgojeKERWJR5iPflSv0dHRnXwMI-R6VL/s1600/Sm+Jpeg+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzx1LXMJ_ihpdUvL4HIfnEWw_m42gA8oodfHGDgGpJDmFASAKMnA_5348j7xOzUvVrmjmTBNORMeqrt-4yKESoCHILj-shyLYIEff6OgojeKERWJR5iPflSv0dHRnXwMI-R6VL/s1600/Sm+Jpeg+%25282%2529.jpg" height="165" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;">I began this piece in August fresh from the showroom floor kicking it in a cheesie hotel room trashed like all who attended three days of Fly Tackle Dealer in Reno somewhat perplexed. For over two decades I've attended our industry trade show. It’s always left me with a renewed enthusiasm for our industry, its people and fly-fishing in general. Annually it’s the only opportunity we: manufacturers, retailers, media and others vested in the lifestyle of fly-fishing have to gather. Over the past decade, possibly longer, there has been considerable discussion and emphasis on growing our sport and again this topic occupied a fair amount of the daily dialog on the showroom floor, in hallways and during the last forum that I attended on “Women in Fly-fishing”. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">First off, I'm not a typical shop owner or flyfisher who advocates mainstream philosophies. I'm concerned theses days for what's in the best interest of our industry, fly-fishing in general and most of all your experience. I understand the need for growth as a retailer and industry, but I’m also very cognizant of the fact that the lifestyle we pursue with fly rod and reel is resources limited. Looking ahead I'm less concerned with growing the sport or seeing more fish being caught than I am with making sure we preserve the integrity of fly-fishing, the experience, the health of our fisheries and maintaining access to the waters we fish. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihuwfM_-EeRLrpC0MI2y0uSrsmvAVy0D_Z33VIvN3PtVPKzKZp1KaKs_QKug9hFh72VJtDZr1Gx5IVUZY5vt0I-xjG3OEmTjfhibHNk-EaXxjXPyBW_d0VMbsYG-GCoS2lGdDK/s1600/Henry's+Fork+07-09-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #444444;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihuwfM_-EeRLrpC0MI2y0uSrsmvAVy0D_Z33VIvN3PtVPKzKZp1KaKs_QKug9hFh72VJtDZr1Gx5IVUZY5vt0I-xjG3OEmTjfhibHNk-EaXxjXPyBW_d0VMbsYG-GCoS2lGdDK/s1600/Henry's+Fork+07-09-10.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;">Over three decades have passed since I got serious about fly-fishing. When I started there were no strike indicators, Al Gore had yet to invent the internet and in general there were fewer bodies on the water. Much has changed since then and some of it I find rather concerning, especially the short cuts we condone in an effort to make fishing with flies easier and more effective without regard for the affect some of these practices are having on the fly-fishing and the waters we fish. </span><span style="font-size: 18px;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;">In an effort to make fly-fishing easier, especially for those just getting started, we have adopted the strike indicator: bobbers, balloons, hunks of yarn, foam, all that take the skill or need of casting a fly with any proficiency out of the equation. On most trout streams flyfishers no longer cast, but lob their flies, wash windows, or chuck and chance. I don’t fault or criticize those who use these techniques, since most have been lead down this path as a matter of convenience, profits and lack of forethought, however I am critical of an industry that has taken the very essence from fly-fishing in order to attract more participants rather than promote fly-fishing for what initially attracted us to it in the first place: the challenge of the game, its grace and eloquence when done right, the sense of accomplishment on a variety of levels, all executed among some of the worlds most incredible landscapes. I don’t know anyone who was attracted to fly-fishing because it was easy, or as a means of catching more fish, yet we’re on this tangent that rarely reflects any of the sports attractive qualities. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFNh5ur2Abmj20jgWTvLfT2LAqHS4xWI-g5pQiRa7doqQdo4n9UWV_KF2eLv5cWpBF4pK-NXcqNXIz39uUBLLpl3evJHXXx-gut1joDPfodI6useX0q8Ewo23vfpgHQiow6-K/s1600/Henry's+Fork+07-09-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #444444;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFNh5ur2Abmj20jgWTvLfT2LAqHS4xWI-g5pQiRa7doqQdo4n9UWV_KF2eLv5cWpBF4pK-NXcqNXIz39uUBLLpl3evJHXXx-gut1joDPfodI6useX0q8Ewo23vfpgHQiow6-K/s1600/Henry's%2BFork%2B07-09-5.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFNh5ur2Abmj20jgWTvLfT2LAqHS4xWI-g5pQiRa7doqQdo4n9UWV_KF2eLv5cWpBF4pK-NXcqNXIz39uUBLLpl3evJHXXx-gut1joDPfodI6useX0q8Ewo23vfpgHQiow6-K/s1600/Henry's+Fork+07-09-5.jpg" height="212" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;">We all have our stories of what prompted us to pick up a fly rod initially. In my early youth I would ride my bike to a friends bass and bluegill pond almost daily. They happened to have a fly rod hanging with their conventional tackle; a Shakespeare Wonder rod with a Perriene automatic reel, that I randomly picked up out of curiosity. On that day my fishing changed forever. The attraction and fascination had nothing to do with its ease or for that matter even catching fish, it was the feel of the rod, the challenge of casting, being mesmerized by the visual display of the fly line unfolding in front of you and the command of it all when it rarely felt right. The fact that it required skill to use only made it that much more appealing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;">Fly-fishing has taken me to places that few other ventures could have. It's been a life long learning experience that I now have the fortune of sharing with others. Over the years I've put a lot into learning to fly-fish. On many fronts I still do and often I'm still not where I would like to be. There has been frustration along the way, and I still have moments where it all goes helplessly wrong. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0tazdxgCt0VFKJjp6YTXASgVY9EmKZlTO4QmdO6JIA23pLhrQ2Bs8UbI8C-IyLYakAKtDiRYmaQ-SCoKxNA3ERaY9caUZZgO8gOLQddGrjwRHm1UHhrrSdVXry8rNsT6Ck1km/s1600/Huntiington+6-12+(16+of+16).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #444444;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0tazdxgCt0VFKJjp6YTXASgVY9EmKZlTO4QmdO6JIA23pLhrQ2Bs8UbI8C-IyLYakAKtDiRYmaQ-SCoKxNA3ERaY9caUZZgO8gOLQddGrjwRHm1UHhrrSdVXry8rNsT6Ck1km/s1600/Huntiington+6-12+(16+of+16).jpg" height="230" width="400" /></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;">All said and done, fly-fishing can be quite simple, that's its beauty. As long as your fly is in the water you have an opportunity to catch a fish regardless of your abilities. In the grand scheme of things, if you are having fun that's what matters most, yet if you want to truly reap the sports greatest rewards you'll need to put your time in. The fact that it is challenging has a great deal to do with its appeal. Personally I can think of few things in life as enjoyable as spending time on the water, playing this game, casting fur and feather to lure a fish to take a fly, and when that happens because of the essence of it all its magical.</span>
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F4.bp.blogspot.com%2F-QQpAK5ns9KM%2FUKm5Agea2OI%2FAAAAAAAABao%2FeEZ4dGe0bGA%2Fs1600%2FHenry" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFNh5ur2Abmj20jgWTvLfT2LAqHS4xWI-g5pQiRa7doqQdo4n9UWV_KF2eLv5cWpBF4pK-NXcqNXIz39uUBLLpl3evJHXXx-gut1joDPfodI6useX0q8Ewo23vfpgHQiow6-K/s1600/Henry" -->Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-20149572697206089962012-10-30T16:45:00.000-06:002012-10-30T16:45:28.341-06:00Rivers of Change<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 13.5pt;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b7fbH9K3Kjk/UHoo-1IDqXI/AAAAAAAABXY/hEkMeaQz3L8/s1600/JPEG+BC+2012+(27+of+70).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b7fbH9K3Kjk/UHoo-1IDqXI/AAAAAAAABXY/hEkMeaQz3L8/s400/JPEG+BC+2012+(27+of+70).jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;">I never seem to tire of a good sunrise or sunset, yet as I grow
older the more I appreciate such displays from Mother Nature. I've been told it
has to do with aging and the anxiety that arrives with the passing of time
recognizing that one day you'll see no more. These days as years pass
days seem like hours, months melt to weeks and life's pace grows more frenetic as
the years fade away. With these realities
comes the significance of the simpler things in life, like this morning
sunrise, the quiet drift down a free flowing river, swinging flies on a fall
day, and a recognition that you get to fish just for
the mere pleasure of it all. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;">I awoke on the first day of my annual steelhead pilgrimage while
others slept or stumbled for coffee scrambling around barefoot trying to
capture mornings array of good light. I have taken a hundred or so dramatic photos
from walkabouts of early mornings and evenings in the past. What captured
my attention this particular moment was the silhouette of the abandon dory. Not
that there aren't a few good photos out there with drift boats in low light,
regrettably though you just don't see many of them in this part of the world
anymore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span>
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;">In the west dories are the preferred means of transportation
when fly-fishing for trout on waters that accommodate them. What’s a
Salmon Fly hatch without a flotilla of drift boats floating downstream after
them? In the steelhead world where sleds
are permitted drift boats have become somewhat of a rarity. It's one of
the reasons I choose to fish with Derek and Andrea of Frontier Farwest. Although
they've incorporated a few jet boats since purchasing this lodge from Collin
Schadrach, they still use Collin's old Clackas on many of their trips. They </span><span style="line-height: 17.999998092651367px;">aren't</span><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;"> always an option, but when they are I'll take a quiet slow row down a
river over the noise, smell and hectic pace motor boats lend to any steelhead
day.<o:p></o:p></span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-152rgUD9DCI/UHoqDCwZPwI/AAAAAAAABYA/ACqRyHTiqdM/s1600/JPEG+BC+2012+(35+of+70).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-152rgUD9DCI/UHoqDCwZPwI/AAAAAAAABYA/ACqRyHTiqdM/s400/JPEG+BC+2012+(35+of+70).jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;">When </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;">I f</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;">irst traveled to <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">British
Columbia</st1:place></st1:state> to work for Collin in 1986 he was one of only a handful of steelhead lodge operators, but the only one using drift boats to guide
his clients. With only the rhythmic sound of the oars to alert others of our
presence, we often surprised other unsuspecting guides as we'd slip down on
them unexpectedly. Most often they would quickly gather their sports
prematurely exiting the run and race to the next piece of water before we’d
have a chance to get there. Often we’d slip in behind them, have a cup of
coffee, some homemade cookies, before proceeding to finish what they failed to.
We weren't always successful at picking their pockets, but conversely they weren't
always successful in fishing their next piece of preferred water. When we did scoop a steelhead or two from
their vacated pockets there was a certain satisfaction that would accompany our
successes and manner in which we chose to fish.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5egpE1wGbMg/UJBShOEbD-I/AAAAAAAABZ4/HWxRBO5zSuA/s1600/JPEG+BC+2012+(9+of+70).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5egpE1wGbMg/UJBShOEbD-I/AAAAAAAABZ4/HWxRBO5zSuA/s320/JPEG+BC+2012+(9+of+70).jpg" width="220" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;">Much has changed since those early years in BC; there were far
fewer guides compared to today leaving plenty of water to go around for all who
shared in fishing for steelhead. The few jet boats that were on the river
weren't enough to disturb much, which was good considering most lacked ethics.
They're a little more considerate these days, but given that there
numbers have grown considerably they have in many regards further eroded the
steelheading experience. What once was a </span><span style="line-height: 17.999998092651367px;">fairly</span><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;"> peaceful semblance of compatible flyfishers at times now resembles a frantic
race from run to run. </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;">Those who prefer jet boats say they don't influence the behavior
of a steelhead. From my experience I question that. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;">When I first
began fly-fishing these waters it was before two handed rods were popular and
all we ever needed were dry flies. Today finding someone who
steelhead fishes with a single handed rod is as rare as finding a steelheader
who fly-fishes for these fish with waking flies let a lone just a floating line.
One of the reasons dry line steelheading on many rivers in this region
and in the lower 48 is no longer very successful is the traffic has changed, fishing for these wandering fish becoming that much more challenging. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;">Those who fish tips don't notice the changes as much or realize that many of BC's rivers and others </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 18px;">throughout</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;"> the Northwest were known</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;"> for their dry fly and dry line steelheading.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 13.5pt;"> Today such is rarely a consideration. If it is what was once common place is now simply an after thought. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">
</span><br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EXkzzPZWrP8/UHoqmvtAiqI/AAAAAAAABYU/ksqaYY2Fo2o/s1600/JPEG+BC+2012+(39+of+70).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EXkzzPZWrP8/UHoqmvtAiqI/AAAAAAAABYU/ksqaYY2Fo2o/s320/JPEG+BC+2012+(39+of+70).jpg" width="212" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;">Although my numbers are not what they use to be, I find the
challenges of steelhead fishing with a wet or dry fly even more rewarding than
it was several decades ago. Those I fish with who also remain steadfast
in this stubborn endeavor having such an appreciation for a steelhead that will
rise to a dry or greased line fly that they to remain stubborn in their
dedication regardless of the conditions as well. As you get older and </span><span style="line-height: 17.999998092651367px;">you've</span><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;"> been at this game for a while, success and pleasure from fly-fishing comes in a
variety of forms. If you’re fortunate
you’ll realize it’s not about how man</span><span style="line-height: 13.5pt;">y fish you catch, but the methods in your madness and that the most memorable are not always the fish that come to hand. I think that’s
what fly-fishing is all about, what attracted me to it in the first place and
what makes the rewards of steelheading with a floating line that much more
enjoyable.</span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-22675188816840433682012-10-13T09:00:00.006-06:002012-10-13T09:01:53.408-06:00A Last Grab<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lP9xfrq53RA/UHl3ys8cJ6I/AAAAAAAABWo/wL75JfRN2xE/s1600/JPEG+BC+2012+(2+of+2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lP9xfrq53RA/UHl3ys8cJ6I/AAAAAAAABWo/wL75JfRN2xE/s320/JPEG+BC+2012+(2+of+2).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Collin Schadrach pulling into Frontier Farwest signaled the end of one part of my fall steelheading junket and the beginning of another. My companions who I shared an incredible week of steelheading with had just departed for home the lodge transitioning methodically to quiet chaos in preparation for its new arrivals. Before moving on to the Mother River rains on our final days returned memories of the two previous years floods, yet this breif freshet was not quite as bad. We woke from camp that final morning deep in the secluded canyons to a rising river, colored, yet not in full spate. As the day lingered the rivers steelhead green faded to brown; never a promising change when one hopes to have reasonable success swinging flies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The last fish I touched left me appropriately with another fleeting opportunity that was more mirage than reality. The grab came with half a belly of line out the end of the rod early into the head of a small piece of water. It was soft, the steelhead briefly mouthing the fly, letting go before my fingers could pinch the cork. After such an incredible week, the grab was almost an afterthought and interruption to an incredibly pleasant day. Yet in that instance the days nonchalance surged into a tense awareness. I paused, gathered myself and presented the fly a second time. The pause and tension this time as the fish lick the fly as it passed even less perceptible. It's tail broke the chopped surface as it rose to take the greased line fly;a cocky wave of gamesmanship,one that I didn't have the upper hand in. Before the third swing I slowly changed flies the game in full progression Had I smoked I probably would have rolled one to rest the fish even longer. Again I cast. Again the steelhead sniffed the offering, yet oh so softly the hook never finding its mark. That was it, game over. I hung my head, breathed a sigh knowing that given the days deteriorating conditions that would probably be it for the day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nGGfC41b5Q8/UHjpTmwo9_I/AAAAAAAABWE/lfBumDEw1Cg/s1600/JPEG+BC+2012+(43+of+70).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nGGfC41b5Q8/UHjpTmwo9_I/AAAAAAAABWE/lfBumDEw1Cg/s400/JPEG+BC+2012+(43+of+70).jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For those who swing flies for these illusive travelers such moments are about perspective. That's the beauty in steelheading; there's plenty of time to ponder the moment, the day, the sense of it all, these incredible fish and the rivers they call home. For all the fish I brought to hand on this trip I'll remember this encounter with comparable appreciation knowing I could have just as easily gone without, my flies simply an illusion swinging unperturbed in the turbid water. Such has been the case many a days when fishing for these fish. It's what makes you appreciate such moments and the opportunity to wander the worlds rivers where steelhead live.</span>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-68194697640662417712012-10-10T22:35:00.005-06:002012-10-11T21:48:35.278-06:00Steelhead on a Dry Fly<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-asFstUZhYbU/UHZL4Dm0kLI/AAAAAAAABU8/7VScJVI859I/s1600/JPEG+BC+2012+(1+of+1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-asFstUZhYbU/UHZL4Dm0kLI/AAAAAAAABU8/7VScJVI859I/s400/JPEG+BC+2012+(1+of+1).jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 18px; line-height: 27px;">There
are steelhead rivers that have a reputation for piscatorial wanderers</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 27px;">that "look up" and under the right conditions take a well skated dry fly. BC has a
few of them and I've been fortunate to skate a fly or two on a number of its more hallowed waters. My past two seasons hosting trips to BC weren't exactly
conducive for fishing period let alone a waking fly. Historic rains blew most of the regions rivers out, rearranged some, deluged fishing lodges, towns and airports. We were fortunate to at least be able to wet a line during those tough years. Many were not so fortunate. For those who pursue these mysterious fish, such challenging conditions are not unusual. They are part of the game. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 27px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 27px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In BC, the Morice River is one of those waters that has a reputation for its surface oriented
steelhead, yet I've never had the opportunity to skate a fly across it's broad reflective runs under conditions that were conducive to a dry fly. This year was different. Upon our arrival, we found a river system in stark contrast to
the previous several years: warm water temps, low and clear as drinking water. The Morice could't have been in better shape. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 27px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">If there was a day to have success skating dry flies this first day with its overcast skies and threat of rain couldn't be more ideal. My fishing partner, however isn't as confident in the
waking fly and quickly challenges my decision by sticking two fish early on light tip, yet sparse fly. His </span></span><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 27px;">reel</span><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 27px;">s</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">creaming and acrobatic fish that cartwheeled out into the tranquil pool offered little consolation in my decisions as my riffle hitched </span><span style="line-height: 27px;">flies skated ignored throughout the
morning. As the day warms my fortunes change. I don't see the first take mid-river currents yet the line briefly tightens when a steelhead grabs the fly. </span></span></span></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TfzxyCFta9c/UHb7Uo0hQSI/AAAAAAAABVo/cG80lG90Ttc/s1600/JPEG+BC+2012+(26+of+70).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TfzxyCFta9c/UHb7Uo0hQSI/AAAAAAAABVo/cG80lG90Ttc/s400/JPEG+BC+2012+(26+of+70).jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">The next encounter comes from the tail out of a deep placid run, the boil unmistakable,
the sound of my old Hardy breaking the morning stillness evidence of the dry
flies success. For the time being, my partners reels have gone quiet, as the bright hen breaks the early afternoon stillness. We connect for a moment before going our separate ways. Several cast later a nice buck
cartwheels across the same tail out before coming unpinned. A
third steelhead brings my line under tension three more cast into the same run, yet distracted I flail at the unexpected yank. As I continued to enjoy success throughout the day my</span></span><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 27px;"> partner </span><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 27px;">switches</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"> his methods, unfortunately for him all too late. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 27px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 27px;">This first day reminded me of those initial years fly-fishing for steelhead when all I ever hung in front of a steelheads face was a waking fly. Times have changed, however. Today there are a lot more guides and jet boats. Between the boats and the way today's fly casters fish for steelhead, most of the times we're waking on their heads. That's OK. I didn't get into fly-fishing because it was easy. Same goes for chasing steelhead. Today's dry line challenges have me looking for new water, exploring little nooks, crannies and unsuspecting pockets that are barely big enough to swing a well tied fly through. That's all good since over a decade now of fishing this way it's become my game, regardless of the conditions. I may not always catch the most steelhead, but then again I might! The tip guys aren't too stoked when I do....</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FV8oBAd_WkM/UHb7RGFHEOI/AAAAAAAABVg/IoGH4uAIbCg/s1600/JPEG+BC+2012+(21+of+70).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FV8oBAd_WkM/UHb7RGFHEOI/AAAAAAAABVg/IoGH4uAIbCg/s400/JPEG+BC+2012+(21+of+70).jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">After fishing water the color and texture of carmel for the past two seasons in BC to see the tops of ones boots in three feet of water lent refreshing enthusiasm for a change. At my age under such favorable conditions it keeps me from stumbling as much. That in and of itself can be rewarding. On top of the great river conditions this year: weather, scenery</span><span style="line-height: 27px;">, then to sting a bunch of chromers on a waking fly left me with one of the more memorable steelhead days I've enjoyed in some time. I hope there are more days like this in store for me in the future. Should there not be, I'm simply grateful for the ones I've already had. </span></span></span></div>
Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-39285452569249355372012-09-23T22:12:00.001-06:002012-10-05T22:42:56.318-06:00BC 2012; The Journey Begins<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tElk1PByI3c/UG-0GB1zxwI/AAAAAAAABUk/CKGSEvbkdP8/s1600/Farmers%2BMkt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tElk1PByI3c/UG-0GB1zxwI/AAAAAAAABUk/CKGSEvbkdP8/s320/Farmers%2BMkt.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">
Hard to believe that a year has passed since I boarded Hawk Air to return home after several weeks in British Columbia chasing migratory fish that at times seem infinitely elusive. The previous years epic high water event resulted in a last minute phone call from Derek, Owner/Operator of Frontier Farwest and one of fly-fishing's more impressive steelhead operations, while we were seated in the airport preparing to depart. He called to inform us that the river had again exceeded its capacity. Ironically the previous year it had gone out the day we arrived. We were on a roll! To the character of our group no one batted an eye and we stayed the course. As one of our crew eluded to, "I have time off to go fishing and I'm going fishing". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We are not sure of what this year will have in store for us, yet we arrive in Smithers this year under clear skies and walk from the plane into a smoke filled valley that hasn't seen rain since June; a stark contrast from the previous damp years. It's dusk when we fly into this picturesque valley, so a visual perspective of the river is assuming at best. After two years of swinging flies in silt laden waters it will be nice to see the bottom of the river for a change. With weather these days one never knows. I don't even bother looking at forecasts any more. I just pack my stuff and go. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">After a short night Angelo, Lars and I wander over to the Bulkley Valley Farmers Market for coffee from the Bugwood Bean. I discovered this Saturday gem of a gathering several years ago. In doing so I'm quickly reminded that there are other reasons that we go to such unique and scenic lands to cast our flies and not all of them have to do with catching fish. This particular morning I've been looking forward to a coffee from the market brewery and to briefly immerse myself in the small town culture of Smithers before it time to switch our focus to fishing. It's been a year since Angelo and I ended the previous years trip with that incredible last day. It doesn't seem like it. Time seems to pass these days at a frenetic pace. Of all the trips I've been so fortunate to take this annual migration is like going home. It's at a good juncture in the year and swinging flies seems to slowdown life down to a more reasonable pace, regardless of the success. </span>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-78032038163004848732012-08-12T18:27:00.002-06:002012-08-12T18:27:54.088-06:00Down Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VX-nEB0gS9I/UChAgSsnp-I/AAAAAAAABSk/WzNXbZQg2Cs/s1600/Shop+Trip+2012+(12+of+13).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc; color: white;"><br /></span></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iMXH9URStjk/UChJlLwT1dI/AAAAAAAABUA/UKvgtVkqCgQ/s1600/Shop+Trip+2012+(10+of+13).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iMXH9URStjk/UChJlLwT1dI/AAAAAAAABUA/UKvgtVkqCgQ/s400/Shop+Trip+2012+(10+of+13).jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>B</b>y the time we slowly rolled down the driveway evenings rush
hour had subsided, the sun was low on the horizon and the days suffocating heat was seeping form summers
parched landscape. Not that the timing of our departure was intended to create
any convenience or comfort. It's simply when we finished packing after a
day at the shop and got underway for Western Rivers annual shop trip.</span><br />
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For the first time in
decades we escaped <st1:state w:st="on">Utah</st1:state> with out running into an
obstacle course of orange barrels or delays prompted by endless construction
that <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Utah</st1:place></st1:state>
freeways always seem to be hindered with. I shouldn't complain since the
infrastructure of most of our major cities in this country is in utter
collapse. In the absence of construction our escape transpires seamlessly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aReNsJigyxo/UChBNXAMowI/AAAAAAAABS4/ebl-Ifd0UjI/s1600/Shop+Trip+2012+(3+of+13).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aReNsJigyxo/UChBNXAMowI/AAAAAAAABS4/ebl-Ifd0UjI/s320/Shop+Trip+2012+(3+of+13).jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Our annual shop trip started
over two decades ago. We haven’t missed one since. It began in the corals
that bordered the Nature Conservancy's Silver Creek Preserve were we set up
that first camp. We used the neighboring rancher’s cattle chute for a
table. That is when he didn't have a need for it. It was a far cry
from sanitary, but level and had character. I don't know if our presence
led to the current camping policy that is now enforced, but you can no longer
camp at that convenient location. As a result the Henry's Fork is now our
base. It's a step up from a camping perspective. The cattle chutes been replaced with a fancy a
roll up table. Although camp now is a little more civilized, the biggest
difference is the presence of grizzlies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DUenrTRQEDA/UChBumY1zmI/AAAAAAAABTM/2gWmhCHA_IA/s1600/Shop+Trip+2012+(6+of+10).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DUenrTRQEDA/UChBumY1zmI/AAAAAAAABTM/2gWmhCHA_IA/s320/Shop+Trip+2012+(6+of+10).jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Skyler and I got a jump
on the group and after a short night of sleep we began our walk into the Ranch
relatively early. A light rain woke me and I could have easily dropped
back to sleep, but knowing what an overcast day can lead to on a western spring
creek and a strong cup of java was ample motivation to roll out of my tent.
Skyler needed a little more prompting, but for a young kid he holds his
own. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We spent a full day on
the water. For our efforts we endured a number of empty takes, a refusal
or two and one nice fish before darkness forced us back to camp. For the
Henry’s Fork in late July the day could be regarded as respectable. Here’s
it all relative. Over the three decades of fishing these waters I’ve had
better, and much worse. If you are going
to get your head handed to you this isn’t a bad place to simply watch the world
by or take a nap. Anymore on this river
having seen it go through some pretty tough times I’m thankful to have an
opportunity to cast a well tied fly to a rising trout. On some days that’s all
one can ask for. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1bg5s2lKGBg/UChATbE272I/AAAAAAAABSc/wgXVxhEM3cQ/s1600/Shop+Trip+2012+(1+of+10).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1bg5s2lKGBg/UChATbE272I/AAAAAAAABSc/wgXVxhEM3cQ/s320/Shop+Trip+2012+(1+of+10).jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Back at camp the long
week, a short night and full day on the water all took a toll. While
Skyler stayed up till the rest of the crew arrived I called it a night. I
was so trashed I didn't even hear the rest of the crew arrive around midnight. Laughter,
and they rhythm of a mellow guitar initially woke me and for a brief moment had
me thinking of joining them. A minor
explosion quickly put any such notion to rest.
The deafening silence that followed the mishap while everyone took
inventory had me little nervous. Luckily there were no serious injuries, but
the incident put a quick end to the night. Since it was around 3, that was
probably a good thing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uCepQHoR1tw/UChCCLJp_lI/AAAAAAAABTY/yqiPrlyrq7k/s1600/Shop+Trip+2012+(7+of+13).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uCepQHoR1tw/UChCCLJp_lI/AAAAAAAABTY/yqiPrlyrq7k/s320/Shop+Trip+2012+(7+of+13).jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The next morning I was
impressed by everyone’s effort to get up at a reasonable hour. They may not have been in the best shape, but
they were stoked to get on the water. We
scattered like broken glass throughout the Ranch once we set to motion
seeking opportunities this place yields so infrequently; something we
experienced first hand the day previously. Some found success others put
in a long morning before succumbing to the lure of a Grub Stake sandwich followed
by a long afternoon nap. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For three days that first
day summed up our fishing experience.
Typical of this fishery when its temperamental its was about being in
the right place at the right time. For the most part everyone enjoyed some
decent success. Given our chance I’d
have to say we did pretty well.
Reflecting on previous Shop Trips, this one rates as one of the more
successful ones. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xXgfRG03iPE/UChCoj4OfAI/AAAAAAAABTs/LFe34i5Vqkc/s1600/Shop+Trip+2012+(9+of+10).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" height="202" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xXgfRG03iPE/UChCoj4OfAI/AAAAAAAABTs/LFe34i5Vqkc/s320/Shop+Trip+2012+(9+of+10).jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Late on the last day we
all eventually gathered to walk the well worn path back after our final day on
the river. We paused momentarily to watch Sir Nicholas work a stubborn trout that
several of us had taken shots at over the three days we were here. There isn’t
a one of us who would pass up a rising trout without making a go of it
regardless of the situation. After a lengthy iteration Nick whiffed when the
trout rose and appeared to take his offering, his patient audience moaning in
reaction to the lost opportunity. To our dismay the trout continued to
rise. Finally Nick’s persistence paid
off, the rainbow finally taking a beetle.
To an ovation he eventually hoisted the trophy mid current after digging
it carefully from the weeds. On the way
out, we couldn’t think of a more fitting end to our stay, regardless of what
had transpired previously. We were also thankful that the Ranch at this late
juncture in the day was void of others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2MxaTTFOUko/UChA32zq3hI/AAAAAAAABSw/-bX0Ez7ZD8I/s1600/Shop+Trip+2012+(13+of+13).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2MxaTTFOUko/UChA32zq3hI/AAAAAAAABSw/-bX0Ez7ZD8I/s320/Shop+Trip+2012+(13+of+13).jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I’m fortunate to have
such a talented crew on many fronts. Not
only are they dedicated to their work, but turn them loose on one of the worlds
most challenging waters their passion and skill is even more impressive. It’s a fishy crew, that is fun to spend time
with on any river let alone one of our favorites the Henry’s Fork.</span></div>
</div>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-15203553775289447282012-07-16T22:41:00.000-06:002012-07-16T22:48:05.673-06:00On Rare Ocassion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KrwOT_fqMZM/UATojwc8b7I/AAAAAAAABRg/0zW3hGFBBNc/s1600/Strawberry+River+5-12+(1+of+8).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KrwOT_fqMZM/UATojwc8b7I/AAAAAAAABRg/0zW3hGFBBNc/s320/Strawberry+River+5-12+(1+of+8).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The narrow dirt road showed signs of wear, to our pleasure
none recent. Debris lay strewn about much of the dry rutted road; bits of
winter’s aftermath still lingering among the hidden shadows of the canyons
sandstone walls. The year still young
has been historically mild, moisture sparse, especially compared to the
previous couple of years. With this in
mind we ventured off the beaten path in hopes of finding a stream void of
others, just a few willing trout and an early window to fish water that normally
affords few if any early opportunities. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Several sandstone spires roughly etched by time stand sentinel
over the entrance to a hidden oasis. Entering
the confined valley ancient cottonwood, dense willow and abrasive river birch lay
drab and bare compared to the lush foliage that we left behind. At first glance
we gaze upon a river surprisingly clear its tributaries yet to dilute the
streams clarity with spring’s freshets; considering this past arid and mild
winter that may never happen. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fvHgEXvwQOU/UATpX5PfrkI/AAAAAAAABR8/P-Rpp8G5O6o/s1600/Strawberry+River+5-12+(8+of+8).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fvHgEXvwQOU/UATpX5PfrkI/AAAAAAAABR8/P-Rpp8G5O6o/s320/Strawberry+River+5-12+(8+of+8).jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Somehow we managed to not hit anything or drive off the
narrow furrowed road as we made our way up the rivers valley. When it ran near water we paid little
attention to its meanderings or condition instead taking every opportunity to discover
shadows with flowing tails, a flash, an undulating ring or the flutter of life
as it emerged into a terrestrial world. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Several miles above the rivers largest tributary we pulled
over content with our choice for a place to begin. Not that it really mattered since we were the
only ones here. Pouring ourselves from the confines of our vehicle the morning’s
cool air and lack of others added a casual yet anxious pace to our
readiness. Even though we saw no signs
of aquatic life we tied on dry flies to our limp tippets, simply because we
felt it was the appropriate way to fish this rare day. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QoSZkQKZ6nY/UATo_sB9e_I/AAAAAAAABRo/2qUhm4LH82s/s1600/Strawberry+River+5-12+(2+of+8).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QoSZkQKZ6nY/UATo_sB9e_I/AAAAAAAABRo/2qUhm4LH82s/s320/Strawberry+River+5-12+(2+of+8).jpg" width="212" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Soon after entering the narrow streams cool waters our artificial
flies drifted haplessly as if untethered initially undisturbed or attracting
any noticeable interest. Several casts into the run a slow methodical
rise from a brown trout interrupted the drift of my partners fly, his line soon
tightening on the unassuming trout sending it to seek deeper water in hopes of some
security from the resistance that pulled upon its body. For the trout’s size it put up an admirable
fight before gently sliding into his net.
We admired the trout’s butter rich color, plumb belly, and translucent
pictorial fins before it quietly slipped back to the depths of the rivers
emerald pool. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As the day wore on we each released several more trout
before deciding it was time to head home; content with a day that exceeded
expectations. We could have caught more,
but to do so would have been in disregard for the uniqueness of this fragile resource. Even if we had, it would have not made a
difference in the day, only diluting the experience, blurring individual trout
to numbers, erasing the uniqueness or recollection of those that came before.</span></div>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-83438821509790910122012-04-18T11:17:00.000-06:002012-04-18T11:23:02.925-06:00Travelers Beware<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6ozV_jMs4ww/T472KuWDdRI/AAAAAAAABRQ/RLQogtgqfVM/s1600/Argentina+2011+(13+of+67).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="196" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6ozV_jMs4ww/T472KuWDdRI/AAAAAAAABRQ/RLQogtgqfVM/s400/Argentina+2011+(13+of+67).jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 14.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m literally just getting my feet back under me after returning
from my 4<sup>th</sup> visit to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Argentina</st1:country-region></st1:place>.
Whether it’s our growing familiarity with this culturally rich country, our
growing friendships, the fish, the food or the diverse fly-fishing
opportunities that seem to abound in this vast country, these trips just seem
to get better. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 14.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ron Sorenson, our host while fishing in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Argentina</st1:place></st1:country-region>, told
us after last years incredible pleasant due to the countries very cooperative weather
we should scale back this years expectation some. As he said, for <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Argentina</st1:place></st1:country-region> or
anywhere for that matter, “it doesn’t get much better than what you had last
year”. On an entirely different level
this trip was as impressive as the last, or any that we have taken for that
matter. After traveling here for several
years that is what I’m finding quite refreshing about fly-fishing in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Argentina</st1:place></st1:country-region>; it
has so much to offer it always surprises you sending you home with an aspect of
the experience you didn’t expect. <span style="color: #333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 14.25pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wNQGtE56H1Q/T471z0ZKwLI/AAAAAAAABRI/S9ma-OVikKQ/s1600/Argentina+2011+(36+of+67).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wNQGtE56H1Q/T471z0ZKwLI/AAAAAAAABRI/S9ma-OVikKQ/s320/Argentina+2011+(36+of+67).jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One little surprise brings a note of interest to Argentine
travelers who frequent this country or for those who are planning a trip in the
near future! Unexpectedly we were informed upon arriving in the country that
they no longer allow you to take your rods and reels on the plane when flying
domestically within <st1:country-region w:st="on">Argentina</st1:country-region>.
When I travel, I don’t like being disconnected
from my rods, reels or flies. These are my babies. Whenever possible, they are always close at
hand, yet that is getting harder to do these days. Fortunately for me, one of
my customers had a Fishpond Dakota Carry On, and I was able to stuff my rods in
that with those he already had in tow.
All said and done we had 11 rods, not to mention a hand full of reels in
this bag. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rmm-ffSgsUs/T471AJmoCEI/AAAAAAAABRA/wOUaJjc0970/s1600/Gaia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rmm-ffSgsUs/T471AJmoCEI/AAAAAAAABRA/wOUaJjc0970/s200/Gaia.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After putting a price tag on the contents of that bag, a
value that exceeded the price of this trip, we got a little concerned about the
possibility of loosing its contents. On
good advice from <b>Gaia
Macchiavello</b>, our guide while getting around in <st1:city w:st="on">Buenos Aires</st1:city>, we had the bag wrapped in
plastic before checking in. Thanks to
EBay, the worlds largest Pawn Shop, there is an easy and very lucrative way to
turn your fly-fishing equipment into quick cash. Last thing you want to do is make it easy for
potential thieves to gain access to your valuables. Should they, at least bury and hide your
reels, flies and secure your valuable rods.
Lock them when you can or wrap them in plastic if possible as we did in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Argentina</st1:country-region>. This type of theft doesn’t happen very often,
but you still want to error on the side of caution. For $10.00 we wrapped up
the bag and sent it off; well worth creating the hassle given the value of your
gear. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was an incredible trip.
I’m still putting the finishing touches on my journal, and each day I
conclude brings back moments of a trip that lived up to everyone’s
expectations. Can’t wait to go through
all my photo’s and publish some of them here as well. If you haven’t been to this country and you
have the opportunities to travel with your fly rod, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Argentina</st1:country-region> should be on your buck
list. Although at the time it wasn’t at
the top of my list, it is now, Chow! </span><b><o:p></o:p></b></div>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-9947272062807930652012-03-29T23:25:00.001-06:002012-03-29T23:32:12.720-06:00Mother Natures Wrath, Mother Natures Bounty<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p_BnC29ZkOc/T3U_4al87ZI/AAAAAAAABQQ/DidZebOz5n0/s1600/Green+River+3-12+(2+of+11).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p_BnC29ZkOc/T3U_4al87ZI/AAAAAAAABQQ/DidZebOz5n0/s400/Green+River+3-12+(2+of+11).jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At one point during the day it was wishful thinking. I’d hoped to depart in daylight for my
weekend spring drive to the <st1:place w:st="on">Green River</st1:place>. With the weather forecast putting some of
I-80 under me before darkness engulfed the landscape would have been sensible,
but typical of most of my departures I hadn’t even breached my driveway before
evenings last light began to fade in the west. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After stopping for java and gas rocking the in the free
world is a traveling necessity, especially at this hour. Randomly “It’s too
dark to put my key in my ignition” overcame the sound of rubber on the road as
one of Neil’s classics permeated a budding emptiness. Although the morning’s sun was far from
rising over my hood ornament, the song and opening line were more than
appropriate. Thankfully my travels were
uneventful and void of ungulates and other four legged wanderers that find
springs warm pavement an attraction or often deadly impediment to historical
migrations. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CXSMhDPxPE8/T3VAnxnKPHI/AAAAAAAABQo/QkhVxEwAMCY/s1600/Green+River+3-12+(5+of+11).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CXSMhDPxPE8/T3VAnxnKPHI/AAAAAAAABQo/QkhVxEwAMCY/s320/Green+River+3-12+(5+of+11).jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Under a star studded sky I threw pad and bag on the ground;
a place I’m most comfortable. Sleep came
quickly after a long day at the shop and the ensuing drive. During the night the wind awoke me on a
number of occasions. At first light, the
landscapes alluvial terraces rimmed the eastern horizon their silhouettes dark yet
fluid, once shelter for some of the west’s most notable outlaws. Scrub oak,
sage, and juniper strained against morning gusts. While coffee was brewing pink and red hues painted
the eastern sky. “Red sky in morning, sailors take warning”. Note to self. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I met Emmett and our crew of guides along with Geoff, Kat,
Jim, and several others on a piece of common ground that’s familiar to all who
fish these waters. For those who fish seriously the formality of such
gatherings along with the scrambled disconnect that is associated when marrying
diverse agendas creates a certain level of anxiety. It was evident this morning, yet the mood was
still very light hearted. For the first
part of the day, we needed light and to sideline our efforts for some
kodachrome moments. After that, all any
of us cared about was sticking a few fish.
Actually if the truth be known, that’s all any of us really cared
about. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QaMYX0bd7Dw/T3VBHvgiIpI/AAAAAAAABQ4/P2BsXnFPHXs/s1600/Green+River+3-12+(8+of+11).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="233" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QaMYX0bd7Dw/T3VBHvgiIpI/AAAAAAAABQ4/P2BsXnFPHXs/s320/Green+River+3-12+(8+of+11).jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Below the Bureaus mass of concrete the <st1:place w:st="on">Green
River</st1:place> emerges cool, crystal clear, rich and undeniably one of the
west’s more prolific trout streams. With
varying agendas we scramble to launch with any kind of efficiency. Being the only ones to do so our efforts were
more humorous than a distraction the only urgency prompted by the oncoming
storm and the loss of good light that was needed for some decent underwater
footage we’d hope to get. For the moment the narrow canyon and river lay bathed
in sunshine, yet to the west there was growing evidence that any morning
pleasantries regarding the weather were eminently temporary. Eventually anchors were lifted and we were
free to pursue what the day would yield, any anxieties quickly washing away. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the early part of the day dark eddies sheltered sporadic
rises the approaching storms violent squalls rarely giving us an opportunity to
present a fly. Overhead slivers of deep blue exposed above the narrow sandstone
walls were slowly eclipsed as the storm continued to evolve. Later in the day eddies
held pods of trout leisurely feeding between gusts on troughs of scum laden
with spring’s mutilated midges. We took turns picking them off till our arms gave
out from holding our boats against the relentless wind finally driven to move
on. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NAxwZRwGm1k/T3VA42ftKcI/AAAAAAAABQw/5KpIjg15vHE/s1600/Green+River+3-12+(6+of+11).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NAxwZRwGm1k/T3VA42ftKcI/AAAAAAAABQw/5KpIjg15vHE/s400/Green+River+3-12+(6+of+11).jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For two days, other than a brief morning reprieve, Mother
Nature punished us. At times every fiber from ones body fought to keep boats from
being pile driven into the shore.
Columns of water ripped from the currents spiraled upward filling the
canyon, On the edges still waters churned in chaos, dried grassed ripped from
the surrounding landscape flew adrift in the air, yet it was Mother Nature’s
wrath that compressed a sporadic afternoon hatch of Blue Wing Olives attracting
the rivers residents to gorge unfettered. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PoCmo6XdKjI/T3VADkR1P8I/AAAAAAAABQY/O6I2PRkqaS8/s1600/Green+River+3-12+(3+of+4).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="146" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PoCmo6XdKjI/T3VADkR1P8I/AAAAAAAABQY/O6I2PRkqaS8/s320/Green+River+3-12+(3+of+4).jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Although we could have had success from the boat, we found
opportunities best on foot. With heads bowed when gale force winds ripped through
the narrow canyon and across the water one could stand their ground. Off guard and remaining upright left one
stumbling for balance. Between the gusts
left little time to find a target and cast before another rip would send any
cast still airborne haplessly off target.
When casts were true and you could find your fly the game was pretty
easy, in fact at times too easy. After a
short while rather than cast at random pods of feeding trout we took turns casting
at bigger bulging backs and trout with their heads agape as they took in the
struggling mayflies. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f546uCpo5mI/T3VAUBARdaI/AAAAAAAABQg/YVls0QGVwII/s1600/Green+River+3-12+(4+of+4).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f546uCpo5mI/T3VAUBARdaI/AAAAAAAABQg/YVls0QGVwII/s320/Green+River+3-12+(4+of+4).jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At the end of the last day as the wind and the storm
intensified I left Geoff and Kat culling the herd. After a
spring drive home last year I was a little gun shy about staying longer. By now rain pitted the surface of
stillwaters, drenched our raincoats and pierced our souls when the wind tore
into us. All the way down the bank trout continued to rise and temp me, yet acknowledging
the intensity of spring storms made me come to the realization that one more
trout wasn’t going to make my day. Staying
alive was; a decision that proved quite prudent in the end. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oYaAmjKGJAU/T3U_enS1IBI/AAAAAAAABQA/6oBFUFLYET4/s1600/Green+River+3-12+(10+of+11).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oYaAmjKGJAU/T3U_enS1IBI/AAAAAAAABQA/6oBFUFLYET4/s400/Green+River+3-12+(10+of+11).jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For a brief moment just past the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Clay</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Basin</st1:placename></st1:place>
turnout a few column of sun broke through illuminating portions of expansive
vista. I barely had time to roll down
the window for a photo before the moment was lost. To the north a black wall engulfed the landscape
awaiting a reluctant arrival. By the time I reach I-80 the freeway lay obscured
under driving sheets of horizontal snow.
I talked to several others who made the same drive somewhat later. At one point tractor trailers were sliding
backwards on Seven Sisters. It wasn’t
quite that bad when I went through, but not much better. By the time I reached <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Evanston</st1:place></st1:city> the pavement was lost to ice and
snow. Although last years drive home
from an early season visit to the <st1:place w:st="on">Green River</st1:place>
was far worse, this one definitely rated. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0E4gZxp5I3A/T3U_rFkNBpI/AAAAAAAABQI/y-nsQqpztUk/s1600/Green+River+3-12+(11+of+11).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0E4gZxp5I3A/T3U_rFkNBpI/AAAAAAAABQI/y-nsQqpztUk/s320/Green+River+3-12+(11+of+11).jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rounding the corner to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Park</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype w:st="on">City</st1:placetype></st1:place>
the storm finally lay behind me and I could relax and reflect on the past two
days. Looking back on the trips I’ve taken this time of year I‘ve had my share
of nail biters, none worse than last year.
When snow plows can’t stay on the road you know that life’s going to get
interesting. There were many aspects of
this trip that were just that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To enjoy one of the west’s great rivers in
relative solitude is rare these days. A
good storm will give you that most times.
Yet while Mother Nature is dishing out here worst she can simultaneously
hand you and unexpected gift. On this
trip we saw her many sides. By days end all
things considered no one was complaining. </span>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-81657370891446004622012-03-11T20:51:00.001-06:002012-03-12T10:17:50.046-06:00All's Well in Montana<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BaCrd0aclSc/T11kATZ4wWI/AAAAAAAABPU/RtQan80wOAg/s1600/Snow+Bowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BaCrd0aclSc/T11kATZ4wWI/AAAAAAAABPU/RtQan80wOAg/s400/Snow+Bowl.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This isn't one of my typical Blog posts since it has nothing to do
with wandering the world’s waters, or casting flies. Although I was in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Montana</st1:place></st1:state> where there
happens to be more than a few noteworthy waters, wetting a line this trip just
wasn't in the cards. Can't say I was disappointed since it was still
early in the year, and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Montana</st1:state></st1:place>
does have other recreational options besides fly-fishing, especially early in
March. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My wife and I headed to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Missoula</st1:place></st1:city>
to see our daughter, take in a little skiing and partake in a few other
activities while visiting, some unexpectedly. Seems my daughter has been
competing in a series of local telemark races through the winter and there
would be several races while we were there.
We kind of knew this, but she wasn’t too specific about races or
particulars, which for a young daughter isn’t out of character or concern. It’s been a rather poor winter in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Utah</st1:place></st1:state>, so we haven’t had
much of a chance to ski this year.
Getting to possibly get some turns in, hang out on the slopes, enjoy the
local scenery all worked for us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Shortly after arriving we went up to one <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Missoula</st1:place></st1:city>’s local ski areas, Snowbowl, to lend
support at one of my daughters evening telemark races. Snowbowl isn’t
your typical ski area, and by today’s standards this wasn’t your typical
telemark ski race. Although the competition was fierce, and quite good the
extra curricular activity surrounding these races made them incredibly
entertaining and simply a blast. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wiwSrpq5_vM/T11jRB1g-OI/AAAAAAAABO8/DpqJlvn-RD0/s1600/Leg+Wrestling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wiwSrpq5_vM/T11jRB1g-OI/AAAAAAAABO8/DpqJlvn-RD0/s320/Leg+Wrestling.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As an X-racer, preparation are key to ones success and here they played
an integral role, yet their pre-race measures were a little more entertaining
than what I was accustom to. For one,
the lodges bar played an integral role in getting everyone focused for the
evening challenges. Being from <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Utah</st1:place></st1:state>,
just being able to see the bar was refreshing, but that’s a whole other story. Local après’ ski enthusiasts, race supporters
and competitors shared a few local <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Montana</st1:state></st1:place>
brews, one of the bars infamous Bloody Mary's, or a shot or two of a favorite liqueur
to loosen up the joints and dilute any potential pre-race jitters. Then there
were the costumes. Yep, as bystanders I don’t know who was getting the most out
of the evening. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Up on the hill, many of the competitors simply could shred even
under the less than ideal condition. We were both impressed. Where most race hills
are neatly groomed, this dual slalom course looked as though it hadn’t seen a decent
going over in weeks, let alone the day of the race. Add a foot of fresh snow on
the steep course that covered ruts and moguls just enough to make conditions even
more demanding. Didn’t seem to bother
most however, neither did the rather poor lighting. These guys and gals were good, mastering the
hill and course with an inebriated expertise that was impressive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Day two we hit the slopes, not exactly rested from the day
before. Crack of noon club, but at this local ski area there was plenty of fresh
powder to go around. If you enjoy tree skiing, tight trees, you’d rarely cross
another track. We found the relaxed pace and pleasant atmosphere of Snowbowl
quite a refreshing change from the vibe that exudes from today’s mega resorts. <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Utah</st1:place></st1:state> skiing isn’t too
shabby by anyone’s standards, yet we’d have to admit that this quaint ski areas
very reputable scene on and off the hill was rather alluring and a nice change.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e79CH6eKBBY/T11jRjN35EI/AAAAAAAABPE/wqL8B0BikI4/s1600/Team+in+Drag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e79CH6eKBBY/T11jRjN35EI/AAAAAAAABPE/wqL8B0BikI4/s320/Team+in+Drag.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Saturday evening found us back at Snowbowl for the
telemark series final race; a race that would
determine team and individual champions. Similar to the
first race we observed teams dressed in costume, but being the last race of the
season the teams pulled out some stops.
Now guys and gals in drag are an ordinary site on <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Duvall St.</st1:address></st1:street> in <st1:city w:st="on">Key
West</st1:city>, but in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Montana</st1:place></st1:state>
not exactly what one would expect to find.
Good thing it was a mild night. Everyone
got a kick out of Team Subaru, car body, headlights and all. On the dual slalom course their skills were
even more notable. Telemark racing
without such bodily obstructions is challenging enough, yet this team made it
look rather effortless. They didn’t beat
the team in drag, but they did come close. For all it was a ruckus affair;
fierce competition, great laughs, good food and thoroughly entertaining. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EBXixKgUsxE/T11jbvZYYeI/AAAAAAAABPM/3DazXYA3Q6A/s1600/Butt+Darts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EBXixKgUsxE/T11jbvZYYeI/AAAAAAAABPM/3DazXYA3Q6A/s320/Butt+Darts.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The awards party afterwards put icing on an already eventful
evening. By the looks of things it was a good night for the bar, especially
since our evening tab nights end wasn’t itemized. Not that at that point it
mattered. Through boisterous chants of <st1:country-region w:st="on">USA</st1:country-region>,
<st1:country-region w:st="on">USA</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">USA</st1:place></st1:country-region>, the crowd
acknowledged each competitor or team as they received their respective awards. The
rally cry carried on late into the night!
It was awesome. After the awards
we stayed around for a round of leg wrestling, butt darts, and jump rope again
to ruckus ovations of <st1:country-region w:st="on">USA</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">USA</st1:place></st1:country-region>…. Butt darts, that was a new one for us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now for the fish part of the story! The winner of the men’s division was a local
fly-fishing guide. If he’s half as good
a guide as he is a telemark skier, I’m in.
Note to self!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-16224728628048547952012-02-29T08:41:00.000-07:002012-03-09T10:06:19.854-07:00Supporting Home Grown<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--H0Q1o-BE90/T0r5kzDdExI/AAAAAAAABNU/0udVanROzzM/s1600/86530070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--H0Q1o-BE90/T0r5kzDdExI/AAAAAAAABNU/0udVanROzzM/s400/86530070.JPG" width="261" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b>n fly-fishing fly rods are the wand that transforms effort
and energy into a rhythmic dance that eloquently delivers wisps of fur and
feather to an unsuspecting quarry. They are the essence of our sport that
connects us to waters near and far. In my lifetime they have evolved from
natural fibers the color of golden honey, to smooth fibers of glass to what
most use to pursue the worlds fishes today, graphite. Although fly rods have changed considerably
over the years what hasn’t is the process and the fact that some of the finest
are still made painstakingly by hand here in the </span><st1:country-region style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">USA</st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Recently I took a tour through a manufacturing plant that is
regarded as a world leader in fly rod innovation, technology and design, Sage. Unlike
the growing number of fly rod manufacturing
companies that produce their fly rods overseas, they choose to make all their rods
in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">USA</st1:country-region></st1:place>.
This wasn’t my first tour of a leading fly rod company or was it my only visit
to Sage. On all occasions I was captivated
by the methodical manufacturing process and the impressive number of craftspeople
whose hands touch each rod before it is finished. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Before taking the ferry from <st1:city w:st="on">Seattle</st1:city>
to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Bainbridge</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Island</st1:placetype></st1:place>, home of Sage, I had the
opportunity to spend some time with Marc Bale, its VP. He was kind enough to put me up for the night
at his beautiful lake side digs and chauffer me around rarely letting a minute pass
without invoking some insightful thought on the state of our industry, our
place in time and where our train may or may not be heading. Seems we’ve shared this conversation before. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">On the ferry we sat with several of Sage’s IT crew admiring
their latest web-site that recently launched.
Already my convictions that much has changed in this industry were being
confirmed as we scrolled laptops and phones to admire the sites latest
enhancements, gadgets and widgets. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Although I would assume it’s a bit of a hassle for those who
migrate from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Seattle</st1:place></st1:city>
daily via ferry to the island, I felt it was a rather pleasant experience. I’m sure they find the novelty of this
peaceful crossing somewhat arduous, but for me this
water taxi added a very nice quality to the start of the day. A good cup of
famous <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Seattle</st1:place></st1:city> java
only made the passage even better. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Upon arriving at the factory a brief greeting in the lobby
took place before being led to Jerry Seim’s cluttered office. It reminded me of my own disheveled confines
back in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Salt</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place>. For those not familiar with him,
he’s Sage’s head rod designer and has been since the first time I made this
trek. Other than we both were older, his
office looked as it did over a decade ago and stands as testament to someone
whose life long pursuit of the perfect fly rod remains a driven passionate quest. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/oojle5RMhxo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I first met Jerry some thirty years ago outside of Will
Godfrey’s North Fork Angler on the banks of the Henry’s Fork. He bet my fishing partner he could cast
further with his hand than my buddy could with his new 9’ graphite fly
rod. It wasn’t even close. For those who haven’t seen Jerry cast, his effortless
and deceptively powerful stroke simply leaves one in awe. In this day an age of “Castrubation” and
competitions it’s rare you’ll ever see him jacking it out there. Instead, should you be fortunate to grace his
presence, you’ll find him more interested in discussing his latest pursuits, fly
rod design or technology developments within the industry in general. He also
likes to discuss his trips where he puts his fly rods to the test, but on this visit he was all business and for good
reason. With his latest endeavor, the Sage ONE rod, he has raised the bar. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">We stepped out back to his private casting pond where he
divulged the attributes of the new ONE rod.
Unequivocally this brief, yet thorough synopsis of this rods unique
features, from its color, weight, unique mesh of carbon fiber married with Sage's
new proprietary resins were as impressive as Jerry’s effortless casts. I’ve always had considerable respect for
Jerry and after this day even more so. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Next I had the great pleasure of getting a rather lengthy tour
with Steve Greist, Sage fly rods head mad scientist; handle bar mustache, white lab
coat and all he looked the part. He’s
been with this company since the beginning.
Before he ran me through the plant, we spent a fair amount of time
discussing the arduous process of building quality fly rods in this country; a fact that clearly
sets them apart from their overseas competitors when it comes to consistent quality and attention to detail. That was on display at every corner of my tour through the Sage factory. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Prior to my first visit to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Bainbridge</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Island</st1:placetype></st1:place>
I expected to see a factory resembling today’s auto industry; lots of white
coats, plenty of machinery, sparks flying, and hard hats. Yes Steve was wearing
a white coat that day, but he was the exception. Having that over zealous image
shattered I came away again in awe of the process and especially the personal
touch and attention that goes into building today’s Sage fly rod. Given the manufacturing challenges that
companies are faced with, I was even more impressed with Sage’s unwavering commitment
to building all their rods in the states. Where others have succumbed they have stayed
the course. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vG2MsDetku4/T0r5bgFp9XI/AAAAAAAABNM/h8IguZccgxo/s1600/Dean+River+8-11+(21+of+39).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vG2MsDetku4/T0r5bgFp9XI/AAAAAAAABNM/h8IguZccgxo/s400/Dean+River+8-11+(21+of+39).jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Although Don Green, Sage’s founding father, is no longer
with the company the reins of Sage are in good hands with Travis Campbell. To my delight his commitment to making Sage fly
rods on <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Bainbridge</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Island</st1:placetype></st1:place> and to maintaining
the Sage brand as one of the cleanest and most recognizable in the industry is
unwavering. As this company moves forward I believe his business
acumen and tenacity will allow him to do just that. I can also attest that he's a dam good stick, whose is
passionate about the sport and committed to its rich traditions. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Sage isn’t the only company that
makes fly rods or quality fly-fishing products here in the states. There are others. Many I am privileged to
carry at Western Rivers Flyfisher: Simms waders made in Bozeman Montana, Abel
and Hatch reels beautifully machined in California, Scott fly rods in Montrose
Colorado, Waterworks/Lamson reels just north of us in Boise Idaho, Nautilus
Reels south in sunny Florida, RIO fly lines in Blackfoot Idaho, premium Winston
Rods in Twin Bridges Montana ,SA fly lines in Midland Michigan, and the list
goes on. These and other dedicated companies manufacturing in the US produce some of
the world’s finest fly-fishing products; products that in many instances are
the driving force behind our sport, that are coveted today, but also will be
treasured for generation to come. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">When I left <st1:placename w:st="on">Bainbridge</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Island</st1:placetype> I departed with a renewed
perspective for those manufacturing companies that produce jobs and support
local communities by continuing to manufacture their products in the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">USA</st1:place></st1:country-region>, their
dedicated staffs and the value in the products they proudly put in our hands. In this day and age it’s a significant
challenge for any manufacturing facility whether here in the <st1:country-region w:st="on">US</st1:country-region> or Europe to not wander to <st1:country-region w:st="on">China</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Taiwan</st1:country-region>
or <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Korea</st1:country-region></st1:place>.
The next time you go to purchase something to wet a line with you should ponder
the true benefits of their efforts. As I have you'll see they go far beyond just building quality fly-fishing equipment, accessories and apparel. That has always been important to me, it should for you as well if you care about the future of our sport, the worlds waters we fish, and fly-fishing as we have come to know it. </span></div>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-9564096710405885452012-02-26T08:28:00.000-07:002012-02-26T08:28:37.238-07:00A Day on the Water<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ev5SM_s2EDI/T0pNkOT-_uI/AAAAAAAABM8/QQhQsVKVtOg/s1600/Skyler+2=22-12+(2+of+6).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ev5SM_s2EDI/T0pNkOT-_uI/AAAAAAAABM8/QQhQsVKVtOg/s400/Skyler+2=22-12+(2+of+6).jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Winter in Utah has been a mild one. February slides into March more like spring than the second month of the New Year. This fact has Skyler and I pondering why we chose to fish one of the months coldest and windiest afternoons to venture out for a quick fix. Regardless we know one thing for sure, the storms that rolled into the Wasatch Front this day would be significant enough to keep most at bay. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Cresting Parleys Summit, the squall that obscured the snow laden paeks gave way to a brilliant eclipse of blue sky, yet the hillsides dry grasses, Scrub Oak and Big Tooth Maples swayed violently. We barely noticed glad to be rid of the city and out of the shop just long enough to breath some fresh air and hopefully find a fish or two up on midges. </span><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-agPOQhZy4r4/T0pNStNH3LI/AAAAAAAABM0/0HvCP5xLKnE/s1600/Skyler+2=22-12+(1+of+6).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-agPOQhZy4r4/T0pNStNH3LI/AAAAAAAABM0/0HvCP5xLKnE/s320/Skyler+2=22-12+(1+of+6).jpg" width="262" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Rumor had it winter's Buffalo Midges were gracing our streams. After fishing 24's and 26's we were both looking forward to tying on a fly that one had a reasonable chance of locating once it hit the water. At my advancing age that's getting to be a rather significant consideration. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">At the Bunny Farm, a local fly-fishing gathering place that is often overrun with vehicles and their accompanying bodies, only a couple of cars sat idle in the frozen snow. Several of anglers could be seen in the first significant piece of water lobbing their florescent bobbers over the rippled pool. Their lines propelled by several split shot looked like slow wipers making there way across a dry windshield. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">By the time we reached the river the parking lot had emptied. In a quiet seam just downstream of us the first nose of a rishing brown broke the cold metallic surface of the river. After 5 minutes it never rose again so we moved on. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pk0oc3gxa90/T0pN2UQhxuI/AAAAAAAABNE/PXajcq_c4us/s1600/Skyler+2=22-12+(3+of+6).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pk0oc3gxa90/T0pN2UQhxuI/AAAAAAAABNE/PXajcq_c4us/s320/Skyler+2=22-12+(3+of+6).jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Just downstream at the head of a small braid we took a seat and mechanically strung up our rods with a close eye on the small pool that spun quietly away from the main current. On the inside seam the head and tail rise of a decent brown took a midge from the swirling currents. Unlike the first trout we encountered it rose again and yet one more time before Skyler slipped quietly in behind it to begin the game we so enjoy. The trout failed to resist, taking the tiny Morgan Midge eventually defiantly slipping into Skyler's net. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">As the day lingered the rises forms became more scarce. To the west, dark clouds began to creep over the tower snow covered peaks of the Wasatch. Occasionally a squall would break free from the approaching front racing across the valley only to quickly dissipate. In the shadows it was cold, guides frozen, fingers growing numb we zipped up our coats as far as we could standing vigilant hoping for one more steady riser before heading home. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">We never did encounter any of the larger midges. This hunchbacked midge is a big meal that a trout will move noticeably to intercept when they are on the water. We weren't surprised they never showed given the weather, yet we weren't disappointed either. It was just nice to cast a fly for the first time this year, feel the weight of a nice trout on the end of the line, and enjoy a quiet beautiful day next to running water. Sometimes that all one can ask of a river. Sometimes its all one needs. </span>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-78743271251929956162012-02-17T08:29:00.000-07:002012-02-17T08:29:51.820-07:00Fracking; buyer beware!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aQ3lT8ugcl4/Tz5ySWAgPCI/AAAAAAAABMs/Yz0VUy0kpT0/s1600/Gasland_cuffs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aQ3lT8ugcl4/Tz5ySWAgPCI/AAAAAAAABMs/Yz0VUy0kpT0/s1600/Gasland_cuffs.jpg" /></a></div><div style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 4px;">WASHINGTON—Documentary filmmaker Josh Fox was cuffed by Capitol Hill police after Republicans objected to his presence at yesterday's meeting of the House Subcommittee on Energy and Environment.</div><div style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 4px;">Fox said he had hoped to film Wednesday's hearing as part of a follow-up to his Academy Award-nominated "Gasland"—a film that received mass critical acclaim for its revealing glimpse into the destructive practice of hydraulic fracking. Fracking has been linked to ecosystem destruction and groundwater pollution. The energy industry keeps the actual content of fracking chemicals a secret. (Likely because they turn our taps into fire-breathing monsters.) </div><div style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 4px;">"This is a public hearing, and within my First Amendment rights I'm being taken out," Fox said, as Chief Wiggum and his buddy showed him the door. </div>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-70418474247647771232011-12-17T21:14:00.002-07:002012-03-05T20:11:31.392-07:00To Fish Good Water<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1WwgIDGXJvc/Tu1hIHkNBmI/AAAAAAAABMQ/lWRFdPBMmLQ/s320/BC+2011+%252847+of+56%2529.jpg" width="320" /></span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b>t seemed like a pointless exercise each cast and subsequent swing of the fly futilely drifting through the lifeless current. Those familiar with fly-fishing for steelhead know conditions can exude such pessimism. Under different situations there may have been a sense of optimism for this particular piece of water, yet there was none even though through the years it has produced fish with a level of consistency. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3qYbrvB-6N8/Tu1jxLoYuVI/AAAAAAAABMY/UnAOAfib2qo/s1600/BC+2011+%252827+of+56%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3qYbrvB-6N8/Tu1jxLoYuVI/AAAAAAAABMY/UnAOAfib2qo/s320/BC+2011+%252827+of+56%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For much of the day and the previous it was a challenge to find water that fished or held some sense of appeal. At times the willows and young sprouts impeded any ability to make a cast the water so high ones backside was often buried in their outstretched limbs. Most runs were simply too fast, the river at its current elevated level resembling a ditch running unimpeded. Although limited, good water could be found, yet these mirrored turbid waters of polished glass held none of those qualities, at least for the way I fish. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BJzxgWafjzk/Tu1fv9jPuoI/AAAAAAAABLo/QuEpC6h0eFs/s1600/BC+2011+%25286+of+56%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BJzxgWafjzk/Tu1fv9jPuoI/AAAAAAAABLo/QuEpC6h0eFs/s1600/BC+2011+%25286+of+56%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BJzxgWafjzk/Tu1fv9jPuoI/AAAAAAAABLo/QuEpC6h0eFs/s200/BC+2011+%25286+of+56%2529.jpg" width="140" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over the past several days my feet grope for a bottom that I can not see, often stumbling over submerged vegetation or structure hidden from view. Where they tread normally is dry and some distance from the gradual flow where the run begins except in spring when torrents purge all free flowing rivers here. With the realities of climates change the very notion of normal is being questioned and for the second year we are confronted with waters in a record state of flux, laden with debris, and opaque driven only by fishing good water and in that persistence a glimmer of hope. Some days regardless of conditions that is all a steelheader has, but if one has pursued this fish long enough one knows its an integral part of the game. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b2DjPzzxhyc/Tu1g1wSbzQI/AAAAAAAABMI/1uyKI4C-cfQ/s1600/BC+2011+%252828+of+56%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b2DjPzzxhyc/Tu1g1wSbzQI/AAAAAAAABMI/1uyKI4C-cfQ/s200/BC+2011+%252828+of+56%2529.jpg" width="125" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For several days we arrive at the rivers edge to launch our craft alone as if we are pioneers off to discover uncharted waters. Having roughed through a similar experience the previous year we have come to appreciate the solitude and a river corridor void of others. Should the waters improve, having to share becomes an annoyance into what has temporarily become a private sanctuary, our selfish sense of earned entitlement eroded. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In steelhead, as in life there are no guarantees. At times the pursuit is not kind. Those new to steelheading rarely comprehend the revered persistence of chasing these deceptive nomads, the worth in the reward. Most move on to other pursuits, imitators defy ethical practices shunning respect for an artificial prowess. It’s the very act of illusiveness that makes this endeavor so appealing; after all we pursue a fish that travels vast oceans before returning to home waters and to the very gravel of their birth with wisps of fur and feather. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J8iDJQg_KEE/Tu1goGnotGI/AAAAAAAABMA/bzT9D7TPNU8/s1600/BC+2011+%252826+of+56%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J8iDJQg_KEE/Tu1goGnotGI/AAAAAAAABMA/bzT9D7TPNU8/s320/BC+2011+%252826+of+56%2529.jpg" width="212" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On our last day, after going fishless for several, conditions had not changed, rain persisted, waters remained excessively high. To the west a damp darkness draped the landscape, a perfect canvas for the rainbow that greeted us as we launched. A ribbon of golden cottonwoods and poplars; perhaps an omen, illuminated the way. Over the past week the waters we would fish this day failed to yielded a single steelhead; not a yank, or pull or hint of chrome, yet we proceeded undeterred to fish good water thankful that we have enjoyed some success knowing we could have as easily had none. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last days take on there own significance, sense of time, and level of heightened anxiety. This day was no exception. Time slip through the hour glass unconstrained. As early afternoon’s sun bathed the valleys fall foliage we fished in cold shadows, an unwelcoming wind grabbing our floating lines and sparse flies, denied the warmth and comfort that mocked us just a short distance across the river. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IoW2UfdicDk/Tu1gVFPHsHI/AAAAAAAABL4/Zr8l1d078yM/s1600/BC+2011+%252851+of+56%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IoW2UfdicDk/Tu1gVFPHsHI/AAAAAAAABL4/Zr8l1d078yM/s200/BC+2011+%252851+of+56%2529.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As we neared the end of yet another empty piece of good water that which may have distracted us was abruptly discarded. Down river a line moved towards mid river. A deep bow in my partners two hander, and the sound of his Hardy confirmed any doubt. By the time I reached him the bright fish was ready to land, yet there was no urgency knowing under these conditions this may be the only fish of the day. Eventually the buck slid atop the murky water to his outstretched hand, the barbless hook easily falling from the corner of its jaw. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We took our time to gaze into the fishes bewildered eyes, noticing the randomness of the fine spots that ran the length of its broad gray back to the tip of his elongated snout. Images could be seen through the fishes translucent fins and tail. We ran our fingers down the net scars that marred his body recognizing this fishes fortunate fate. For a brief moment it rested, gills undulating, its body adjusting to rivers swirling currents. Eventually he swam onward undeterred, disappearing among the turbid waters a phantom driven by a wayward journey. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JGw00l6Kt2M/Tu1gC2MCVdI/AAAAAAAABLw/a_sXOpiRdW8/s1600/BC+2011+%25289+of+56%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JGw00l6Kt2M/Tu1gC2MCVdI/AAAAAAAABLw/a_sXOpiRdW8/s320/BC+2011+%25289+of+56%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In celebration we passed a bottle, pouring a gratuitous round of whiskey into the rivers diffused currents after each taking a pull. Had our day ended with this singe fish we would have been content. It was all either of us had hoped for given the outcome of the past few days, yet there would be more. By the time we landed our last steelhead, dark clouds were again threatening from the northwest, the sun buried behind the growing wall. We’d experienced a day like few others in steelheading even under ideal conditions. To enjoy such success on this last day made it even more noteworthy. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A last round of whiskey came towards the days end. It wasn’t prompted by the landing of another landed steelhead, but to a day of fishing good water, with people you want to share time with and to the simple acknowledgment at day’s end of how fortunate we were. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IoW2UfdicDk/Tu1gVFPHsHI/AAAAAAAABL4/Zr8l1d078yM/s1600/BC+2011+%252851+of+56%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XmwVY9iE57o/Tu1fcjkH3FI/AAAAAAAABLg/GT9p0xOz2f8/s1600/BC+2011+%252829+of+56%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XmwVY9iE57o/Tu1fcjkH3FI/AAAAAAAABLg/GT9p0xOz2f8/s320/BC+2011+%252829+of+56%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XmwVY9iE57o/Tu1fcjkH3FI/AAAAAAAABLg/GT9p0xOz2f8/s1600/BC+2011+%252829+of+56%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As long shadows draped the narrow canyon walls we floated out to the sound </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">of the river. Several eagles gazed</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> down upon us as we floated by, perched in vigilance undisturbed, settling in for a cold night. In growing silence we took solace in all that we experienced in this day, this week, with the realization it was coming to an end, yet thankful for having good water to fish and to be rewarded in doing so knowing full well it doesn’t always work out that way. </span>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-77655151252076213522011-06-19T20:05:00.001-06:002011-12-18T11:55:27.917-07:00The Dean<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X1sMOW3aI9s/Tf6pk4Z6nNI/AAAAAAAABJ8/Ri7fMlyZcV4/s1600/Blog+09+%25281+of+4%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X1sMOW3aI9s/Tf6pk4Z6nNI/AAAAAAAABJ8/Ri7fMlyZcV4/s1600/Blog+09+%25281+of+4%2529.jpg" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The sound of trembling poplars stirs distant memories of a river corridor that has few equals in the eyes of those who pursue steelhead. That particular afternoon the river was void of anglers, everyone choosing to enjoy a lavish lunch and nap before heading back out for the evenings fish. I packed a peanut butter sandwich and some water instead, wandering alone through dense forests, over molded stone and cobbles where the rivers bear and wolf also travel. It wasn't so much to optimize steelhead opportunities as it was to immerse myself in this river and grasp completely why those who have come before me have such reverence for these waters. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Quietly seated in natures amphitheater with a melody of rustling leaves and the rivers descending cadence lent a perspective to a watershed I'd not felt. It's legendary steelhead I'd experienced, yet this resources shear majestic qualities, scope and grand theater these threatened fish run through came to fruition on those solitary afternoon strolls. It as then I grew to understand the magnitude of this impressionable place. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The last time I cast a fly under the Dean Rivers towering canyon walls, heard the shimmer of its century old cottonwoods, felt its glacially fed currents or the chaotic nature of its powerful piscatorial travelers was over a decade ago. I still endure a vivid almost surreal recollection of those days. My departing view from the small Cesna that took me away from such grandeur was painful knowing I may never again have the opportunity to return. As time passed, those notions seem to be playing out. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EdeGHWhGFqE/Tf6prt5846I/AAAAAAAABKA/G-ipq517-Ac/s1600/JPEGS+BC+09+%25281+of+17%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EdeGHWhGFqE/Tf6prt5846I/AAAAAAAABKA/G-ipq517-Ac/s320/JPEGS+BC+09+%25281+of+17%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During a casual conversation pertaining to the state of the industries affairs an invitation to again return to the Dean River was recently extended to me</span>. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It wold be in middle of August, a time when often river conditions support the success of a well presented dry and definitely conducive to a greased line fly. Rivers currents will be more tempered at this late juncture in the season, yet it's steelhead will be fresh and bright. I still remember. Should this opportunity have not ever come along, I'll always remember the Dean. It does that to you. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have always felt incredibly grateful for those early opportunities to fish the Dean. However, this visit will be even more meaningful given the years that have transpired since my last trip regardless of the fishing. Being a steelheader, to have the opportunity to fish such great waters is all one should ask. That in and of itself is enough. </span>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-15482788338658551552011-05-30T13:02:00.002-06:002011-05-30T13:04:30.489-06:00Third Times a Charm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JXSl5pn2cBo/TePijC7qifI/AAAAAAAABJk/gvBxVnytpYM/s1600/Rio+Malleo+Web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="120" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JXSl5pn2cBo/TePijC7qifI/AAAAAAAABJk/gvBxVnytpYM/s320/Rio+Malleo+Web.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unexpectedly my recent travels in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Argentina</st1:country-region> began on the 8<sup>th</sup> floor of an obscure building tucked above <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Florida Street</st1:address></st1:street> in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Buenos Aires</st1:place></st1:city> lone fly shop. For those who have wandered this congested yet colorful pedestrian thoroughfare, it’s probably not what you are thinking. While waiting to check into my hotel KC Walsh, head honcho at Simms, just happened to wander into the lobby. Being on a tight schedule, which KC always seems to be, he collared me and ran me across the street to meet Marcelo; purveyor of the cities only fly shop. Like most Argentine flyfishers, his enthusiasm for his country and its diverse fly-fishing opportunities flowed from his exuberant personality. Our visit was brief, yet well worth the diversion on many levels. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2HIfGwPoWC4/TcTD_8hrS1I/AAAAAAAABJU/jxUM12f2pCI/s1600/Argentina+2011+%252815+of+67%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2HIfGwPoWC4/TcTD_8hrS1I/AAAAAAAABJU/jxUM12f2pCI/s320/Argentina+2011+%252815+of+67%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ah yes, you've got to love small world moments! For starters, finding a fly-shop in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Buenos Aires</st1:city></st1:place></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> given the myriad of exotic options this city offers wasn't exactly on the days radar.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Drinking a few street side brews, checking out the local scenery, enjoying a nice lunch, and asado for dinner later on were more what we had in mind.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being commandeered by KC wasn’t part of the picture when we arrived, yet no visit to this busting city has ever been orchestrated with a plan of consistency.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unfortunately for KC, his stay was coming to an end.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For us, our adventure was just getting underway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cIfbSbrYX4Q/TePQiBkEDEI/AAAAAAAABJg/_AdfuEIxKn4/s1600/Argentina+2011+%252813+of+67%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cIfbSbrYX4Q/TePQiBkEDEI/AAAAAAAABJg/_AdfuEIxKn4/s320/Argentina+2011+%252813+of+67%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Those fortunate to have fished with a fly in South America revel in their trout, the myriad of diverse waters, expansive and often vertical vistas, its peoples gracious hospitality, fine wines, and hearty cuisine. These are some of the extraordinary aspects of a fly-fishing journey in <st1:place w:st="on">Patagonia</st1:place>. Somewhere in the discussion along with the eloquent accolades that accompany a visit to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Argentina</st1:place></st1:country-region> you’ll encounter various descriptive adjectives elaborating on the countries notorious wind. Well deserved I might add. Looking back as proof that first year I remember my last brown trout of the trip literally being drug up into the shallows and beached as the wind drove the full length of my fly line well up onto bank of small cobbles and stones. It was one of the most productive days of our visit, yet it had it’s frustrations for angler and guide alike. That’s what cold beers, good cigars and a good streamside nap are for! Those pondering this trip, be fore warned; in this part of the world Mother Nature’s not often kid. On the brighter side, the trout don’t seem to mind.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yS86DSgR5gQ/TePmyf3USYI/AAAAAAAABJ0/7BomzUxG8Mk/s1600/Rio+Chimehuin+Brn+Web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yS86DSgR5gQ/TePmyf3USYI/AAAAAAAABJ0/7BomzUxG8Mk/s320/Rio+Chimehuin+Brn+Web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">t is not my goal to catch all the world fishes, or to venture to a new fly-fishing destination just to say I have.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That would be similar to counting fish as the sole reflection of the experience. Such sallow manifestations neglect any relationship or respect for the waters, the creatures they are linked to, or the impact as an angler you have. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Instead days fly-fishing are narrowly affixed to a simple number.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nzt25oJ7l0Q/TePmn2TLfnI/AAAAAAAABJw/xeS3_jcalDk/s1600/Napping+Web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nzt25oJ7l0Q/TePmn2TLfnI/AAAAAAAABJw/xeS3_jcalDk/s320/Napping+Web.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have always sensed that fishing with a fly offers much more than that. I feel the same about the destination I frequent and come to know. It’s why I enjoy traveling and sharing my experience and the places I’ve come to frequent with others. You can’t always control the fishing, that’s a simple fact, but it’s also what makes what we pursue rewarding. If you are pondering a trip to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Argentina</st1:place></st1:country-region>, BC or anywhere in the world for that matter and you gauge the success of the adventure on the number or the size of fish that come to hand, you’re probably going to spend a lot of money being disappointed. If you consider all the amazing attributes that you get to enjoy as a result of fishing with a fly-rod, whether it be in your backyard or abroad, you are more often than not in for many incredible fly-fishing experiences. This being just one! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yg1vABY9pSw/TePmnJ_uhsI/AAAAAAAABJs/apIdH92LyIA/s1600/Rio+Malleo+Brn+Web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="117" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yg1vABY9pSw/TePmnJ_uhsI/AAAAAAAABJs/apIdH92LyIA/s320/Rio+Malleo+Brn+Web.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Having found something special in Argentina, again I returned knowing I’ve only pawed at the surface of this vast countries waters; its fly-fishing opportunities, people, wines the endless trays of succulent meats and fine pastas. Yearning to enhance our familiarity of Argentina’s offering, we changed our trip from February to April this year; not that early February visits weren’t living up to expectations. The fact that this is my third visit to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Argentina</st1:place></st1:country-region> should vouch sufficiently for those first two experiences. The lure of more stable weather, consistent hatches and fewer bodies proved a strong attraction to the switch. Not that the rivers of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Argentina</st1:place></st1:country-region> are crowded, but given the other two considerations, throwing the third into the mix only provoked our curiosity. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our host’s boastings held true; Mother Nature behaved her self, however she did rear her ugly head on occasions. The rivers prolific hatches generated some of the best dry fly-fishing we have yet to enjoy. The weather overall couldn’t have been more ideal or timed; little wind, spectacular sunsets, and clouds and rain when the mattered the most. And yes, and there were few if any on the water to share in our experience. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aH04mZMqfGQ/TePpeBd8-GI/AAAAAAAABJ4/aeMRTHfzdgs/s1600/Lk+Tromen+Web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aH04mZMqfGQ/TePpeBd8-GI/AAAAAAAABJ4/aeMRTHfzdgs/s320/Lk+Tromen+Web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This third time was a charm. Looking to 2012 in April of 2012, I figure the forth time should be like fine wine that just keeps gets better with each passing year. Did I mention that Argentina has some pretty outstanding wine! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chow…..</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-61525271306604091952010-12-20T22:38:00.001-07:002010-12-21T07:49:10.164-07:00To Fish Great Water Well<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3wi-AI5I/AAAAAAAABIs/CA6XuD7t98Y/s1600/Good+Water+%25285+of+11%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3zU_IZTI/AAAAAAAABI4/B40lmpqOpZg/s1600/Good+Water+%25288+of+11%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3zU_IZTI/AAAAAAAABI4/B40lmpqOpZg/s400/Good+Water+%25288+of+11%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A light drizzle dimples the blackened tarmacs gathering puddles as we depart the twin engine turbo at “Steelhead International”. First impressions, perfect weather for encountering the provinces chrome jewels. Prior to landing pressed faces peer through aged windows catching glimpses of a glacially tainted river meandering through a valley corridor lined in golden poplar, birch, and fir. To a steelheader far from home an anxious yet welcome view. After an evening of suds, a short restless night is spent preparing for what lay ahead. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: white; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3zxfHaWI/AAAAAAAABI8/1oVodME5UM4/s1600/Good+Water+%25289+of+11%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: white; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3vkRaBTI/AAAAAAAABIo/DsV7Kk4JIqc/s1600/Good+Water+%25281+of+11%2529.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3vkRaBTI/AAAAAAAABIo/DsV7Kk4JIqc/s320/Good+Water+%25281+of+11%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3vkRaBTI/AAAAAAAABIo/DsV7Kk4JIqc/s1600/Good+Water+%25281+of+11%2529.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>From town the Queens Highway travels south crossing the river where another glimpse affords a less desirable image of the waters below. It appears swollen by comparison, a brownish tinge permeating its depths. Perhaps the previous evenings failing light lent a more palatable quality to the rivers appearance. As we continue to the lodge I ponder the reality of that deception knowing past experiences.</div><div style="color: white;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: white; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA30yTKv0I/AAAAAAAABJA/FRlCtbNpkCw/s1600/Good+Water+%252810+of+11%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3vC_NsCI/AAAAAAAABIk/bGese33Z1Ic/s1600/BC+JEPG+2010+%252821+of+29%2529.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3vC_NsCI/AAAAAAAABIk/bGese33Z1Ic/s320/BC+JEPG+2010+%252821+of+29%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a>A damp afternoon leaves us exiting a river on the rise. The following morning we huddle in darkness on the rivers bank its audible pitch alerting us to her unsettled violence, yet we prepare for the day with enthusiasm. Dawn greets us with a broken sky, a crimson glow highlighting the distant snow covered peaks; the first we’ve seen of them since arriving. For good reason we were the only group to launch that morning, although others gathered to stare, cups of streaming coffee held in their hands skeptically watching as we departed. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: white; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3uGEYBqI/AAAAAAAABIg/_WiH8V4GutI/s1600/BC+JEPG+2010+%25282+of+29%2529.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3uGEYBqI/AAAAAAAABIg/_WiH8V4GutI/s320/BC+JEPG+2010+%25282+of+29%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Ancient downed cottonwoods, limbs mixed with smaller debris drift by as we hopelessly swung our flies, posting guides on vigil against an unfortunate encounter. We believed there was hope, after all we’re steelheaders. The suns warming rays accentuate the waters impenetrable color while highlighting the corridors ribbon of luminous golden foliage. With rains subsiding, hope rekindled, undeterred we continued on.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Midway through the week the caramel colored waters dilute to a consistency that resembles weak coffee. Outside the lodge, the once raucous flow is audibly tempered; subtle changes that impel a steelheader on. Like vultures, others now descend, where once we fished alone. Competition now stalks this waterway sensing opportunity. They are greeted by those who believed and persevered as intruders knowing the solitude that was once enjoyed would now be interrupted. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div style="color: white;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: white; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3wi-AI5I/AAAAAAAABIs/CA6XuD7t98Y/s1600/Good+Water+%25285+of+11%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3wi-AI5I/AAAAAAAABIs/CA6XuD7t98Y/s400/Good+Water+%25285+of+11%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Just rewards accompany optimism and faith. For those who pursue these fish, such truisms often are all one has. Those who fail to accept this, move on to an aspect of fly-fishing that is more predictable, and forgiving. On waters where vagabond jewels only temporarily reside, faithless casts frequently go unanswered. John Hazel one noted with experienced reflection on the nature of steelhead fishing with a fly; “good steelheading is simply fishing great water well”. As our time on this unimpeded river unfolded, this was never more true, nor fulfilling. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA30yTKv0I/AAAAAAAABJA/FRlCtbNpkCw/s1600/Good+Water+%252810+of+11%2529.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="121" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA30yTKv0I/AAAAAAAABJA/FRlCtbNpkCw/s320/Good+Water+%252810+of+11%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a>With three days remaining, optimism and hope blossomed in the form of a plump rose colored buck. For the first time since arriving, belief, hope and faith firmly rests in a pair of outstretched hands. Given the nature of this sport, a solitary fish is worth jubilant celebration; even more so given the hand we’d been dealt and the conditions we endured. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In the final days, conditions improved, so did the fishing. Given our expectation, moments of trepidation eventually yielded to success and celebration. In many respects we were fortunate knowing in reality there are no givens here, after all you are a guest in Mother Nature’s court, subject to her whims, playing a game that remains relatively pure, honest, and raw. Unlike other growing aspects of fly-fishing here a sense of fair play and simple appreciation still exists. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: white; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3vkRaBTI/AAAAAAAABIo/DsV7Kk4JIqc/s1600/Good+Water+%25281+of+11%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: white; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3zxfHaWI/AAAAAAAABI8/1oVodME5UM4/s1600/Good+Water+%25289+of+11%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3zxfHaWI/AAAAAAAABI8/1oVodME5UM4/s400/Good+Water+%25289+of+11%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Last days always arrive too soon. Before departing reflective contemplations are calculated from the glass confines of “Steelhead Internationals” solitary gate with a certain sense of despair. At the edge of the runway the river flows out of sight, dotted with solitary figures methodically probing for an elusive quarry. You yearn to still be among them. The corridors once vibrant poplar and cottonwoods now sway rhythmically naked and exposed. Silently inventory is taken of the experience, opportunities lost, and the years of wandering this country and its waters. A good friend once said upon first arriving in this country, that I would never be the same. I scoffed at that notion. Over two decades have since passed since then, he was right. </div><div style="color: white; text-align: right;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3slRXZLI/AAAAAAAABIc/jqCuHJA0fhA/s1600/Good+Water+%252811+of+11%2529.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TRA3slRXZLI/AAAAAAAABIc/jqCuHJA0fhA/s320/Good+Water+%252811+of+11%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As an infected soul, I quietly board the plane lost in my thoughts, already yearning for that which will be left behind. From the window, as I have for decades, I’ll grasp one last glimpse of a river that tugs as it does its steelhead hoping to again return to fish great water well. </div>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-89339873212699859292010-12-04T09:21:00.000-07:002010-12-04T09:21:15.922-07:00The Doc Spratley<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TPpqHXw4EWI/AAAAAAAABIY/QOiTVgFJIBU/s1600/Doc+Spratley+Spey+%25281+of+1%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TPpqHXw4EWI/AAAAAAAABIY/QOiTVgFJIBU/s320/Doc+Spratley+Spey+%25281+of+1%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: verdana;">One by one I’ve begun rebuilding a steelhead box that was recently stolen. Although other items were taken that box of faith and hope represented a quarter of a century of steelhead fishing; a collection of flies tied, bartered and gifted over the years. Of all that was taken, it was the most significant loss. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: verdana;">Several weeks passed before I sat down at my bench to begin the arduous tying process that would fill some of the voids left by the absconded box knowing that I would be unable to simply replace, or recreate that which was lost overnight. In doing so, I’ve found a renewed sense of excitement in tying those patterns that have proven their worth over the years and a renewed interest in tying a few new ones.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: verdana;">Greg Pearson stopped by the other day and naturally we spent a fair amount of time discussing our steelhead season; waters we had fished, successes, failures, flies and other related matters. He’d found great success in a pattern I’d heard of, but never fished or tied, the Doc Sprately. What caught my attention was the fact that it had a green butt. Those that know the patterns I prefer when steelhead fishing, know that a number of my flies quite consistently have a green butt.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: verdana;">Shortly after Greg left I was perusing the internet looking for samples of this fly and stumbled upon one that was of interest, the Doc Spratley Spey. It is a beautifully dressed low water fly, and one deserving of a steelhead. After a slight modification to the wing, there now lies a nice little gathering of these in my new box adjacent to those freshly tied patterns that are the foundation of my offerings. Come next season, I’ll be looking for a reason to fish this fly. It won’t take much knowing that any respectable steelhead would find it hard to resist. </span></div>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-88141744343171325502010-11-30T09:09:00.003-07:002010-12-01T08:12:50.626-07:00The Best in Fly Fishing Media<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TPUcFrrRicI/AAAAAAAABIU/1yRsnHKU9dE/s1600/This+is+Fly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TPUcFrrRicI/AAAAAAAABIU/1yRsnHKU9dE/s1600/This+is+Fly.jpg" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Given that print media has taken a dive over the past decade or, there have been some excellent on-line publications such as the latest issue of</span><span style="color: cyan;"> </span><a href="http://www.thisisfly.com/"><b style="color: cyan;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This is Fly</span></span></b></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b style="color: cyan;"><span style="color: white;">.</span> </b> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">The other good internet publications and the first of it's kind was,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://www.catchmagazine.net/" style="color: #999999;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> <span style="color: cyan;">Catch Magazine</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">.</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: cyan;"> </span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Not only are these new internet magazines refreshing, they are free, they don't write biased and worthless product reviews, and the vivid imagery simply pops from the screen. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">But all is not lost when it comes to good fly-fishing print media. I must give a shout out to one of the few good newsstand fly-fishing rags,</span> </span></span><a href="http://www.drakemag.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The Drake</span></span></b></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">; still the best magazine in print and worth the paper it's printed on. There are others trying to carve out a niche in fly-fishing, but to date none match the creativity or whit in writing or material that The Drake brings us. I just wish they'd put it out more than a few times a year. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Check them out! Good stuff when you can't chase your favorite species with fur and feather, or need a good fish fix at the office! Enjoy..... </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-1302533422320189732010-11-24T22:45:00.002-07:002010-11-25T09:19:47.350-07:00Old Man<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TO33RliLGHI/AAAAAAAABIQ/ztCmKN6qcKs/s1600/Henry's+Fork+07-09-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TO33RliLGHI/AAAAAAAABIQ/ztCmKN6qcKs/s320/Henry%2527s+Fork+07-09-7.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My kids made me music CD’s when they still cohabitated the house. They were affectionately labeled “Old Man Mix”;at least I believe they were. It was good stuff: Neil, Hendrix, Allman Brothers, Peal Jam, John Butler, Ben Harper, Dylan, Marley, blending musical transitions of the years we shared. Those mixes accompanied and still do many a road trip resonating most harmoniously with windows down, a waft of fresh cool air swirling about the interior, with the smell of fresh cut fields permeating the senses. </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: white;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Coincidentally, about the time these musical medleys emerged I encountered a mortal reconciliation. Seated quietly among the flowing grasses and wildflowers on the banks of the Henry’s Fork waxing in the afterglow of a memorable morning, fully absorbed in the rivers encompassing beauty this disturbing contemplation eroded the tranquil moment; how many more years do I have left to fish these waters? The thought set me upright, fractured any sense of contentment I was experiencing, left me perplexed, distracted and contemplating a timetable of life past and present. I still vividly recall that moment. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: white;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TO1QsbGimII/AAAAAAAABII/T4wichgAFww/s1600/JM+Reel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TO1QsbGimII/AAAAAAAABII/T4wichgAFww/s1600/JM+Reel.jpg" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not long after that, the reality of that intrusive thought sat before me; flesh and blood. He was a rather distinguished gentleman with graying hair, full mustache with a shouldered slouch creeping into his once erect posture. There was a hint of brightness to his eyes, but the realization of life’s mortality had eroded some of that. His presence and our ensuing conversation affixed emotions of my own fresh ponderings. As we talked, a mounting sadness permeated the room. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: white;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My friend had come to the end of his fly-fishing life, a life once filled with vivid anticipation and adventure on the worlds waterways. In his hands were his tools of the trade; rods, and reels of an era gone by, each with their own narrative, the test of time worn well into each unique piece. A vest tattered lay limp across his nimble legs. With sadness he handed these items over to me to sell, knowing that family nor friends would give them the considerations he felt they deserved. Quietly I watched him leave, those encroaching thoughts resurfacing from that reflective morning. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: white;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shortly after this, my father passed away. It was expected, yet the suddenness of his demise challenged any preparedness for his departure. Just before his passing, seated upon the bleached remains of a once towering cottonwood in a steady British Columbia rain, writing phone numbers in the mud in an effort to try and reach my father after he was hospitalized, made the distance between us infinitely long, yet I was thankful for the brief solace this country afforded me knowing what ultimately lay ahead. What more fitting of a place to prepare for such matters, to garner life’s realizations, reflect upon a man you’d only come to truly know not all too long ago and in between ones own destiny. </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TO1QDv9ER2I/AAAAAAAABIE/sADExioHhTY/s1600/BC+JEPG+2010+(20+of+29).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="169" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TO1QDv9ER2I/AAAAAAAABIE/sADExioHhTY/s320/BC+JEPG+2010+%252820+of+29%2529.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Much has changed in my life since that moment several years ago bathed in sunshine while contemplating life. Fly-fishing now lends occasions to wander the world’s waterways with a more contemplative outlook, where the catching of fish is no less celebratory, but overall yields to a smaller gesture of fulfilling circumstance. Given the fortunes of my time, each outing bears an enhanced significance, each wandering however brief more poignant, each fish appreciably unique more noteworthy. Similar to the older gentleman who I had shared that introspective moment, there is a growing appreciation for time in general, especially time on the water, and to fish for the simple pleasure and solace it affords the just reward.</span> </span></div>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26620733.post-42032380999501385612010-11-17T21:19:00.042-07:002010-11-17T21:49:10.448-07:00Anglers Sue for Stream Access<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TOSpUrpDp3I/AAAAAAAABHo/a1jvTieHchM/s1600/No+Trespasing.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8QC6xZzRsA/TOSpUrpDp3I/AAAAAAAABHo/a1jvTieHchM/s1600/No+Trespasing.gif" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">It was bound to happen sooner than later, a law suit in dealing with Utah stream access. On November 13th, the <a href="http://utahstreamaccess.org/?page_id=7"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Utah Stream Access Coalition</span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">filed suit challenging the merits of HB141; a recently passed bill that took away the public rights to access Utah's public waters. Check out this story by the <a href="http://www.sltrib.com/sltrib/home/50666012-76/access-public-utah-act.html.csp"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Salt Lake Tribune</span></a> for additional details. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">For all anglers this creates an opportunity to put in place stream access laws that were supported by the Utah Supreme Court in July of 2008, however it's not a time to sit on the side lines and wait to see how this all works out. The Coalition is going to need participants and it must raise significant monies to support these actions. Visit their website or follow them on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Utah-Stream-Access-Coalition/102961929761077"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Facebook </span></a>to see how you can be apart of this historical action. </span>Steve Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05860458938404377044noreply@blogger.com0