My 6000 mile Rant

[Airborne]

Ok guys/gals,

I have been lusting for (my passion is flyfishing ask my wife) some, any or at least some lies about how you all are having the best day of your life on the river. I am stationed in Afghanistan (yes I brought a rod) with hopes of catching some native virgin German Browns, the kind that have never seen a fly, yes they have them here in the northern mtns, I however am banished to the desert on the Pakistan Border.... the people in my area dont even know what a fish taste like. I did read BAp's report kudos, but the rest of you are trying my patientce with trivial questions/post about reels, swaps, and toons. Maybe you all are just waiting for me to get back so we can hit the Crooked or the Big D? I will be back in mid June or so, I have not been able to FISH for over a year, so help me by helping yourselves and go fishing for a soldier. Tell your Boss, Wife, Husband, or Inlaws that you have to do this to help support the GWOT (global war on terrorism) remember at this point telling lies or fish tales with pictures or not, is highly encouraged thank you if you are still reading this, and go fishing.

[AndyK]

I'll do what I can to help you out!

If you run into a friend of mine, Maj Dave Cole, say hello for me.

[Slow and Low]

Send me your e-mail and I will bury you in fish ****:D

[Pete]

So, which tale to tell? Hmmm. There was the 2 day, 550 trout day on the Deschutes. Or the 1 fish 5 day pack trip on Kelly Creek in Idaho. Or how about the 5 fish day on Slough Creek? Yeah, I'll start with that, fishing in Yellowstone Park. I had 2 weeks before graduate school started so I loaded up the Ford Ranger for a road trip. I had maps, books, gear and ideas, but no specific plans. I just headed east to see some land I hadn't before. I tried the Beaverhead, where a moronic moose crashed my tent and sent me back into my truck for sleeping quarters. I was very happy about that the next day on the Madison when rangers came through the campground warning of grizzlies in the area the day before. But what I really wanted was some epic fishing and I hadn't found it. Even the Yellowstone, outside the park was frustrating - like fly fishing in the Columbia. So I spent some time talking to people on the rivers and in camp asking where the most scenic spot was where someone could hook a fish on a fly. I don't remember who said it, but someone pointed me towards Slough Creek in the NE corner of the park. As I passed through the historic north gate of the park, the ranger smiled and wished me luck. I think he distinguished between sportsmen and tourists and as a flyfisher, he granted me respect I didn't feel was given to everyone passing his station.

After a long, slow drive and seeing a few bison grazing in a meadow, I turned off towards the Slough Creek trail head. I was a little disappointed to see a dozen cars there, thinking I might have competition. But I parked, got out my gear. Threw my wading shoes, some water and lunch in a day pack and headed up the trail. After about a mile, I crossed the first low pass in a beautiful glade of quaking aspens, their leaves dancing in the sunlight and making the most beautiful rustling sound. The white bark, vibrant green leaves and the crystal blue sky still haunt me.

Dropping down the other side of the ridge I was descending into the first meadow. The knee-high grasses in the 500 acre valley were brown in the late summer sun and the wind was blowing it in waves that beckoned me to keep moving. A short horse train passed me, indicating they were headed to the 3rd meadow about 14 miles up the trail.

Cutting through the middle of the flat meadow is a meandering trench where Slough Creek lazily wanders. The water was low and clear as spring water. Beyond the meadow a low pine covered ridge stands quietly, with the majestic peaks of the Absaroka mountains with their harsh, bare, granite standing in stark contrast to the pines and grasses where I was. Slough Creek starts as snow melt from that range. They were awesome and for the first time, I started to feel something really special was happening.

I made a bee-line for the creek through the tall grass. Hoppers erupted with every step as I cut a trail to the water. I walked right up to the creek. That was a mistake I realized as I watched large fish scatter as soon as I saw the creek. The 20 foot wide water was no deeper than 3 feet anywhere. The only protection for the fish was to head around the next corner, which they did.

I sat down to plan a strategy. Warm wind, hoppers everywhere, skittish fish, nothing to for me or the fish to hide behind ... my options were very limited. I chose a belly crawl approach to launch a Joe's Hopper from my 5 weight Scott using a slingshot cast. The fly landed quietly enough, I thought, but these fish told me the score. Try something cleaver, piker, they seemed to say as they headed off around the next bend.

I spent several hours being schooled by these fish. They just laughed at me and asked if I had any idea how they'd become so big if they fell for a game as feeble as I was throwing at them. I got frustrated and threw a real grasshopper (no string attatched) and watched the fish gobble it up. Argh!

I started hiking further and got into the woods at the foot of the next ridge that separated me from the second meadow. Here, the creek had contour, depth and structure. I could hide in the trees or behind boulders and fish the plunge and pool creek. I began with a hopper, but that was a mistake as there weren't hoppers in the forest part of the stream. I switched to a #18 elk-wing caddis on a 6x tippet. I extended my leader to about 12 feet. A rise! Several casts later, I finally had a reward and was able to release a beautiful, buttery yellow fish that I estimated at 4 pounds. My heart was pounding and I was pumped up! I fished through about a half mile of this forested section before I remembered that this is grizzly country, I was far from any trail, I had a ham sandwich in my pack and I was unarmed. I ended my day in mid afternoon after releasing 5 of these magnificent fish. It stands out now, 15 years later as one of my most spectacular days of fishing.


This picture isn't mine, but this is a good example of what these Slough Creek cutthroats look like.
http://www.sloughcreek.com/images/2004awingert.jpg


Here's a view across the Slough Creek valley towards the Absarokas.

http://www.sloughcreek.com/andersonview.jpg

Rol, keep your eyes on coming home ... I'm proud to have men like you who choose to serve our country and look forward to you returning to enjoy this beautiful land.

[BigSkyHunter]

Well I will first say this story comes from last May and June. I have not been salmon fishing since then except on Thanksgiving day last year and that is a whole other story itself. I go to school in Montana and have to make quick trips home to get a chance to fish for salmon. The trout fishing here in MT is outstanding and that is why I chose to go to school here but once you go salmon you won't go back. I day dream about salmon fishing pretty much in all my classes. I wish they would let me take the fly fishing class multiple times and still get credit.

When I got done with my spring semester last year my friend Matt and I decided it was time for him to catch his first spring chinook. He had caught fall chinook on a previous trip home with me but I told him springers where the most fun and of course the best eating. He had to drive home to Rescue, CA so Oregon was on his way. We devoted one half day to fishing because we had some other fun things on our plate. We decided to start off the morning at a larger coastal stream. It was really early for the main run of springers but I was hoping for the best and that luck would be on our side. Second cast of the morning a steelhead endulged itself on a Polar Shrimp variation mid drift. From all those days catching trout I had forgotten the simple thing of setting the hook really "Good" on a steelhead and about 30 seconds into the fight the hook came unpegged. Oh well, that was the best morning brew I had awoken to in months. We fished for several hours with no prevail. I then told him that I had a spot we could stop at on the drive home which had been good to me in the past. Though it was further upstream it was a good holding point for fish. We pulled up to the spot and as of most good fishing holes on the coast someone was there, even on a Tuesday. I decided I would walk down without my gear and just have a look. As I was walking down the trail the angler was heading out. I asked him how he had done and he said nothing. I kept on going and got down to the water. I climbed the bank and looked down through the drift. I had one advantage that the angler before me didn't, a set of polarized glasses. It took about thirty seconds for me to see three springers resting in the swift moving tailout. It was a place the average angler would overlook for casting so I assumed the guy had not made a drift there or the fish just moved in. I went back up to the truck and got my buddy and our gear. I told him what I saw and we both were excited. When we got down to the river I pointed to where the fish had been laying. He attempted to make the presentation to the fish but was having a hard time. After about 15 minutes of no luck I decided I would give it a try. He had not quite got the right swing on it and I knew the fish had probably had no visual of his offering. First swing through I saw my line stop, I set the hook the right way this time (one of those that rips trout out of the water on accident when I forget which species I am fishing for) and hand him the rod. Of course he is one of those fisherman who is accustomed to right handed reals and I am a lefty. He has a few troubles getting the line and real movement down but that is the least of his problems. The fish realized it was hooked and is headed upstream at Mach 3. After a full days work we landed the fish and decided we would call it a day. Though I handed the rod off it was still a thrill he will never forget.

After heading back to Missoula to start my summer class of Analytical and Quantitative Chemistry the fishing started to heat up. About three weeks later I convinced my teacher to let me take a exam early and skip a day of class plus lab to go home because "I needed to see my family". It was the truth but with a twist, I really wanted to catch a springer. I got home late on a Thursday evening after a full day of class. Friday morning my Dad and I hit the river for some Father and Son bonding. Not too long in the morning my dad hooks up with a pretty beefy fish. It takes off down stream and he joking tells me I better go after it. Well I took him serious and made a dash for the fish like a quarter back keeper into the inzone. I will say that yes I fell in the water, yes I started breathing hard, and yes I tailed the fish and my dad was a happy fisherman.

The last time I could go fishing was Sunday afternoon. My brother and I hit the river at about 2 PM expecting to just have a peaceful afternoon. The river was vacant and the sun was shining bright. We were expecting nothing but to just share some afternoon with each other because it is a rarety nowadays. First drift we fished I landed a very nice fish. My brother wanted a picture of him with it so he could put it on his binder for school to brag. He is a pretty serious bass fisherman and fished in the ESPN Junior Bassmaster Classic on the east coast in 2005. I told him that there was one stipulation to having a picture with the fish, he had to kiss it like the bass fisherman do with there money fish. Well candid as it is I caught him in the act. To top off the most solitude of the afternoon we ended up getting a limit of springers. The look on my dads face when we were lifting the 120 quart cooler out of my truck was priceless, he knew there was something other than clean ice and air in there.

That was the most fun I have ever had with my brother and a day I will never forget. Him and I use to fight as kids but trips like that help us to become closer and closer.

Airborne,

I hope you enjoy this story, it was fun to write and brought back some great memories and emotions. When you get home I would be honored to treat you to a day of fishing.....

Best Regards,
Brian

[Airborne]

Pete & Brian,

Awesome stories, I could actualy imagine myself there, feel the breeze, smell the water, the feeling that this next cast will be the one. My imagination is wild with the end of this tour getting closer. I can't wait to hit the water and feel the freedom of being able to travel anywhere I choose without having to carry my weapon and always look for the IED or Taliban or the next suicide bomber. It wont take me long to get back into the swing of the civilian life..... thanks again

[stillwater97]

When you get back, shoot me an email, and we can schedule a day out on the high lakes in my boat.


Thank you for your service!

Mark

[BigSkyHunter]

Pete & Brian,

Awesome stories, I could actualy imagine myself there, feel the breeze, smell the water, the feeling that this next cast will be the one.

Thank you for the kind words when you are in such a "words can't describe it" place. I hope others contribute some stories here soon. When I slip away from school and get a fly wet I will be sure to write you a short story with pictures.

Brian

[Tagster]

If you see a guy named Doug H...tell him Tag says howdy

[3riversBob]

Airborne, when you get back and are ready, just say the word and we're off to the Crooked or Big D. Maybe before the temp drops to single digits this time. :)

On another note, I know that time with the family will be important when you come home and if you want a quiet weekend away with just the wife let me know I will take care of the kids for you.

Thank you so much for your service.

Oh yeah........fishing story..........well haven't really been out much lately. I do have a week planned in July for a trip to Century Drive and hitting a few lakes over there.

Take care, Bob.

[Airborne]

Bob,
Thanks for the offer on the wife...:laugh: but I have one too, and I would love the chance to fish with you again, but really love the good cookin you do at camp..... see you soon

[CGRFish]

I'll offer up one more story to help your pain... I used to be a controller for a major forest products company, and when the annual budgeting process was going on, I would do 14 hour days for several weeks in a row, filled with spreadsheets, meetings, and corporate politics:crazy:. After we finally wrapped up the budget one year, I had had it, and took a personal day to find some solitude.

There was a small lake called prices lake nearby, which was truely a gem. It was fly fishing only, with a hike of about 1/3 of a mile almost straight down into a beautiful forrested bowl holding the lake. The lake was formed by an earthquake damming a valley, and the clear water showed incredible old growth stumps and logs littering the bottom. Prices was always special, as you could catch native cutthroat, rainbows, or brooks from the lake, and it was just remote enough to limit the competiion.

On this day I packed my float tube down to the lake, and began a day of extreme quite and beauty, with the entire lake to myself. Fishing started slow, but that didn't matter, as the peace and beauty was incredibly refreshing. As the morning warmed, however, the dragonfly's became active, and the lake simply boiled with trout activity. The fishing was making a day to remember....

As I sat in the tube, I heard something behind me, and upon turning to the north, I realize an entire herd of elk had moved out onto the meadow not 200 yards from me. Now I am simply in awe... Trout everywhere, elk, autumn colors, and incredible peace and tranquility.

The day was simply a gift from God, and a day I will never forget. Thank you so much for serving our country to keep us all safe. Keep up the good work, and tight lines will come!