May2011
In 48 hours I’ll be very close to being in Montana. We’ll probably be just about done with Idaho’s panhandle, headed East on I-90. The destination, as it is every year at this time: West Yellowstone, MT. The Ho Hum Motel, to be exact. The Firehole River, ultimately. Rather than waste your time writing about what to expect, let me just offer you a few recollections from previous years. It never varies a great deal, but that doesn’t mean it’s boring or redundant (except for the 14 hour drive).
The weather is always unpredictable when fishing at over 7200 feet in Yellowstone Park. Spring squalls will blow in one minute and we’ll be hunkered down to find a spot out of the driving snow. Then the sun will come out and we’ll be peeling layers. This year, however, it looks predictably bad. No matter- the fish will be gullible. It’s opening day of fishing in the park and the rainbows and browns haven’t seen an imitation bug since last fall. It’s stupid catching, and just what the doctor ordered. Then we’ll hit the Madison near Three Dollar Bridge and all that easy catching will come to an abrupt halt. I’ll get my arse handed to me. So will everyone else. Except Marck.
When I return, I’ll write up my recollections of this year’s trip. It’ll be remarkably similar to years past.
Last year I participated in a multi-boat flotilla as part of a Children’s Hospital benefit auction orchestrated by my friend Sir Lancelot (yes, the Sir Lancelot who provided a guest post not too long ago). Last year I was just along for the ride, and to clean the grill after lunch. This year I was along to provide all-day labor by rowing one of the boats. Last year the Yakima River was running unseasonably low and water conditions were excellent. This year that was not the case. The plan had originally been to float the river down around Ellensburg. Marck was unable to participate this year and while it would have been nice to have him along for his good-natured companionship, what we we really needed was his boat. However, as the date approached and the Yakima River became swollen with runoff, there was a change of plans: we’d be floating an upper section of the river where hard boats are not recommended. Rafts were the order of the day so the Hornet sat idle while 3 inflatable craft were launched for the trip.
The inflatable flotilla.
Bear in mind that names have been changed to protect the innocent avoid slander lawsuits. To run down the list of those in attendance, in one raft were Lancelot and two of his friends, FFred & NNick. The raft being rowed by yours truly provided downstream transportation for The Rev & The Father. The third boat was rowed by CJ Emerson (who guides for The Evening Hatch) and his two guests, Ben & Jerry. It was appropriate that Ben & Jerry be in CJ’s raft as Ben had purchased the trip at the auction and so thus deserved a real guide. Except for Lancelot’s boat, the experience level was mostly non-existent. Ben & Jerry’s fresh-out-of-the-box Cabela’s breathable waders may have still had the tags on them and the Z-Axis rod that Ben also received in the auction had not previously seen active duty. In my boat, The Rev & The Father were wearing neoprene waders they had just gotten, paired with over-sized, used tennis shoes they’d just purchased in lieu of wading boots. They were each employing a brand new Redington Crosswater rod and reel. Nobody teased The Rev for wearing pink shoes, except for Lancelot.
For first time fly anglers, it was an almost unthinkably cruel joke to tie on a Thingamabobber, a tandem nymph rig and a couple pieces of split shot and expect them to enjoy the casting experience, especially from a seated position (the rafts are not set up for fly fishing like, say, a StreamTech Boat).
StreamTech. I want one.
Chucking awkward hardware from a seated position was, however, the order of the day. In defense of my anglers, they managed to avoid too many bird’s nests and lost no more flies than I would have had I had a line in the water. My only complaint is that I had to sit on a cooler lid instead of a proper rowing seat (as offered in a StreamTech boat). I’d really appreciate it, Lancelot, if you would acquire a couple of these boats before next year’s trip.
Springtime and birds are building nests.
I’m not sure how beginner’s Ben & Jerry fared throughout the day, although occasionally I did hear the distance sound of CJ’s voice patiently yelling offering encouragement.
The day was very pleasant with mostly clear skies and warm temperatures. Certainly sunscreen and shirt sleeves weather (The Rev & The Father soon came to realize the error of their ways in selecting neoprene waders). The river was running high and deep green, but there was decent visibility. However, the fish were blind for the most part with the exception of one 8 inch rainbow that The Father hooked and played momentarily before executing a Long Distance Release. Even with the split shot, it was difficult to get the flies down to where there may have been fish holding in the heavy water. Granted, had the person rowing my raft been an actual guide, the anglers on board may have landed a whitefish and a slightly bigger rainbow, as had CJ’s boat. But you get what you pay for, and The Rev & The Father paid nothing for their trip. Even with the most collective experience aboard, Lancelot’s boat finished that day with the unmistakable odor of skunk. That says a lot about the man on the oars.
Obstacle #1
As lousy of an oarsman and angler as Lancelot may be, he does know his way around food and grilled up a delicious meal of King salmon. Not much to complain about there. The monotony of the day was broken up by two river hazards that forced us to take evasive maneuvers. The first was a sweeper lying across the channel in a woody stretch of tricky water. Not to worry, as roping the boats around the obstacle was no problem.
Obstacle #2
The second obstacle consisted of a very large cottonwood tree that had recently laid itself down across the entire river. Getting around this blockage required a 40 yard portage, made easy by the simple fact that we had plenty of manpower to carry each boat. A single boat with 3 people would have had their work cut out for them.
Portage made easy.
The real excitement of the day came within the last couple of hours of the trip. My boat was first through a particular stretch of water that had a brushy bank and ample structure for any fish that might have chosen to lie there (none did, by the way). From his perch in the front of the boat, The Rev sent out a respectable 20 yard cast into the waiting branches of a tree 10 yards away. The hook on the size 8 Pat’s Stone grabbed hold firmly as the boat continued downstream. I would have attempted to row against the current to retrieve the fly, but I wasn’t man enough the high flows would have nothing to do with it. As the distance between ourselves and the snagged fly increased, so did the uneasiness on the part of The Rev. I calmly counseled him to point the rod directly at the fly, pinch down on the fly line with his finger, and hold on. “The leader is going to snap,” I said. “It may ricochet back so turn your face away from it,” I added (as I ducked). As the tension in the line increased and the 2X tippet strained under the load, The Rev allowed the fly line to slide between the cork and his forefinger. I detected the smell of burning flesh, and the resulting sensation was more than The Rev could tolerate. At the exact same time he yelled, “Owch!!!” he let go of the rod. The tension of the stretched line served to slingshot the rod from his hand and Across the Water (the Crosswater aptly named by Redington) where it landed 10 feet upstream of the raft. There was no need for panic as the rod was still tethered to the tree and rescue was on the way—Lancelot’s raft was just approaching the tree and saw the line snagged. I waved to indicate we could use a little help, and pulled the boat over to a gravel bar a short ways downstream to wait. And watch. Because I was busy on the oars there were no photos to document the drama. However, I have provided this detailed illustration to illustrate the situation:
It appeared, from our distance of 80+ yards, that Lancelot’s boat was able to free the snagged fly from the branch. Then they tossed the fly into the water for us to reel in. At that point Lancelot acknowledged the great distance between us and them, and realized we were not holding the other end of the line. They scrambled to retrieve the fly again, which luckily became snagged a second time on a branch in the water. They succeeded in retrieving the fly a second time and pulled in several yards of fly line and eventually the rod and reel. I’m not sure if they were into the backing by the time they had the entire setup in hand, but The Rev was lucky to get the rod back.
The Rev with his rescued Redington Crosswater rod and reel.
Even though the catching was slow to non-existent, it could have been a lot worse. It could have been raining. The food could have been bad. The guests could have had a horrible time. And had there not been another boat behind us, the river would have claimed a brand new rod, reel and line. That wouldn’t have been a good way for The Rev to begin his fly fishing career.
If you look to the right sidebar and scroll down a little ways, you’ll see a graphic that proudly states that I am a Greenfish Ambassador. No, it doesn’t mean that I have diplomatic privileges in some foreign country, nor does Greenfish have an embassy somewhere. What it does signify is that I like what Greenfish stands for and because of my extensive power of influence in the fly fishing community, and I’ve been granted status as an Ambassador. In that capacity I am not obligated to do anything, but I do stand by the Greenfish mission to support sustainable fisheries. It’s a good deal. They’re a company promoting not only their brand, but conservation. And they have some cool swag, which I own a few pieces of.
Greenfish donates 5% of every sale to a conservation group of your designation:
GreenFish partners with various companies and organizations that we support financially as well as philosophically. Through the “GreenFish Gives” program, each time you buy a product from us you can select one of our partner organizations where you would like 5% of your purchase to be donated. GreenFish then makes a quarterly donation to each of these groups who support our mission based on your purchases. All GreenFish partners share common values: to encourage sustainable fishing as a means of protecting fisheries and the environment while also promoting the sport of recreational fishing.
Anyway, let’s cut to the chase. Because of my esteemed status as a Greenfish Ambassador, I can offer you, the Unaccomplished Angler Nation, an opportunity to purchase Greenfish gear at a 20% discount by simply using this discount code when you place your order: 00145CW.
Yes, there is a benefit to me.
I get 10% of sales that are made using my discount code. However, and this is the key – I am not pocketing that 10%.
I am participating in the Casting 4 A Cure fundraiser in Victor, Idaho in August. Casting 4 A Cure, if you are not aware, is an organization that uses two annual fly fishing events to raise funding for research to find a cure for Rett Syndrome, which is a cruel neurological disorder affecting mostly young girls. You’ve heard me mention, plenty of times, my fishing buddy Marck? Well, I am sponsoring myself and Marck’s participation in this event, trying to raise $4000 for our entry fees. There’s a reason I chose Marck as a my partner- he’s a fishy dude and if we hope to win big in the competition, I need a partner who can catch fish.
So when you place a Greenfish order, you’re contributing to conservation, getting a 20% discount on some sweet swag, kicking 10% my way, which in turn goes directly to Casting 4 a Cure. Pretty cool, eh?
This promotion expires September 1, 2011- but please don’t wait because I need to raise the money for Casting 4 A Cure by the end of June.
Please pass the discount code around to others who you think might be interested, and thanks for your help and support.
Kirk
It all started innocently enough as a cardboard rendition of the *me*. Then a t-shirt bearing the logo of the UA traveled to the Bahamas for Deneki Outdoors’ FIBfest. Most recently *I* traveled all the way to Michigan to catch a single smelt (not single malt) when fishing with Fontinalis Rising. Essentially *I* have been going fishing in places without me leaving the comfort of my office, or having to wear pants. Well, it gets worse. Or better, depending. Just recently *I* made an appearance at a virtual school. I was in effect, a not-real author.
I’ve given presentations at physical schools before, and it’s a very rewarding experience that also entails a lot of planning, especially where significant travel is required, but that’s part of the adventure. Like the time I flew to Kansas City for a author visit and was sandwiched on the plane from Denver to KC by two very gregarious, very large corn-fed brothers returning home from a vacation to the California coast. Thankfully they were in good spirits and didn’t start fighting on the plane. It was quite an enjoyable encounter to pass the time with these two farm boys, and that sort of thing doesn’t happen when you’re a virtual author.
My presentation was to a group of about 50 kids who are part of the Washington Virtual Academy (WAVA). My “visit” was the first of it’s kind as part of what they called the Visiting Author Virtual Adventure. It was a WAVA VAVA, if you will. After a dry run a couple of days prior, to make sure that everything was working from a technical standpoint, I felt confident that being a virtual author would be a snap. Much easier than if I were playing the part of a real author. After all, it was certainly easier to catch fish when I wasn’t there. This would be a snap.
On the day of the virtual visit, like any professional I didn’t shave or shower, and in fact was wearing sweats and slippers when it was time to log in to the virtual classroom. I strapped on my headset and microphone and settled in. I felt somewhat like a radio disc jockey. Or an air traffic controller.
After an introduction I began the same way that I do when I’m a real person at a brick and mortar school – by asking a question designed to get kids involved: “How many of you like opening presents?” Usually a room full of hands is enthusiastically extended skyward but in the virtual world, there were no hands. Instead, a bunch of smiley faces appear on the screen next to the names of the students. Relieved for the response, I proceeded into my presentation. “Good. Well, fishing is a lot like opening presents, because there’s always a surprise.” I waded through my Powerpoint slide show which includes photos of wildlife, scenery, kids fishing, and of course fish. Without the occasional distraction of a child punching their neighbor in the arm or picking their nose while staring blankly straight at me, my delivery was smooth and confident. So confident was I that at one point I made a subtle attempt at a humorous comment. Without having a real flesh and blood audience to giggle at my sophisticated humor, the awkward silence was deafening, even with headphones on. Luckily none of my virtual audience could see me squirm in my chair and I decided not to attempt any more clever acts for the remainder of the presentation. Tough virtual crowd.
At the end of 50 minutes my formal presentation had concluded and it was question and answer time. Assuming it would follow a similar display where a virtual hand would be raised so that I could call upon them to type a question, suddenly the dialog box was flooded with rapid-fire questions, typed out at lightening speed. These are kids that are comfortable on a keyboard, and as I tried to read one question aloud, 5 more would appear and force me to lose my place. Frantically scrolling through the list I was relieved that one thing never changes: the nature of the questions being asked is the same everywhere, whether the kids are sitting right in front of me or if they appear as avatars on a screen. Familiar questions such as: “How old are you?” “Do you have a dog?” “You must be a really good fisherman- what’s the biggest fish you ever caught?” I was happy to answer all questions except that last one. I could have lied, since that’s what fishermen do. “Oh, look at the virtual digital time display – we’re all out of time, kids!”
All in all it was a good experience and the presentation was well-received by all in virtual attendance. At least that’s what the virtual teacher told me, via email, following the visit. Who knows – this may be the wave of the future. I may just have a face for virtual author visits.
We’ve all either sat idly by while someone else did it, or we’ve done it ourselves. You know, struggled like an imbecile on the boat ramp trying to keep the trailer on the ramp and eventually to get the boat in the water, where it belongs. Once you get the hang of the whole mirror image thing it’s pretty easy, but it can be frustrating (and a source of great amusement when it’s not you behind the wheel). Sometime just for giggles, grab a cooler of your favorite Professional Boaters Refreshment and a lawn chair, and pick a good vantage point next to a busy boat ramp on a summer day. You’ll be greatly entertained as you watch married couples nearing divorce and observe good buddies challenging the bonds of their friendships.
Earthsports posted a good article that may help you avoid the boat ramp stress.
Don’t even think about backing in a perfectly straight line—this is nearly impossible. Instead, try for shallow, slow, tiny S-turns as you back, which keep the trailer more or less on course.
Read the full article here.
