Fly Fishing: Why God Made Bourbon...

...spring creeks and tailwaters may not be the Montana's only game in town but to me trumps chopping holes in the ice...period, end of discussion...even if getting around in the snow can and often is a wee bit too much like trying to navigate on stilts...

Chucking bugs in a blizzard is certainly nothing new...your intrepid reporter has been card carrying participant for oh, say three decades and counting. Nor is really all that tough. With today's gear--breathable waders, cushy winter friendly under armor, rubber soled wading shoes (no more felt thank you), windproof fleece, neoprene fishing gloves and such--why hell, most days the toughest part is knockin' little ice from the guides every now and then. Especially if you have the luxury of living close to open trout water and can pick and choose when and when not to go.

Once you get past the idea of freezing your butt, losing fingers, toes and/or the end of your nose to frostbite
or worse, perish the thought, eating skunk you just might find winter fly fishing...dare I say it...kick ass fun. Don't spread it around but trout--especially those lucky enough to live the Life of Reilly immersed in water never freezes; not all that different temperature-wise than early spring or late fall--do eat, most days anyway; better still eat pretty much the same stuff you might try feeding in say July--true story, really. Oh the bugs might be a wee bit smaller than standard fare--#22 midge instead of #18 bwo; you might better slow down the bugger retrieve a little...but in the end winter operations aren't much different than any other season...just a wee bit chillier is all...And that folks is precisely Why God Made Bourbon...here's to ya...

Spring Has At Last Sprung...

...So Sayeth The Brave Order of Virtuous Weathermen...And if you believe that one just take a gander out yonder window... 

Ok, so depite that the official solstice is still three weeks down the road, most of us do consider March, April and May spring months. And as a bona fide- true-blue-carded-fly-pole-toter spring, the official sort or otherwise, tis indeed time I typically get off the proverbial pot and get at it but...for a variety reasons, some of which escape me at the moment, the bug as they say has yet to bite this ol' boy's butt. 

Could be the drive to Butte yesterday: snow drifting the highway, the icy wind howling, oh say, 30-miles plus, to say nothing the stark white iced-over Big Hole broken only here and there by skinny ribbons black, really black open water or...

...the past week's widespread reports of negative 30s and worse in all the right places (read rivers), like someone once noted we all have our limits...right.

Or it just might be that after 50 days or so gamboling about the desert  bedecked out for the most part in tee-shirt and shorts (OK I lie but) I just can't bear the idea a dealin' with a mostly froze-up crick, freezin' butt whilst wavin a silly ol' stick and maybe...just maybe...snaggin' a silly ol' trout or...

Worse...findin a by God Montana bone a tuggin on the line...

Perish the thought, eh?

Instead me thinks tis high time to toss nother log on the fahr, splash a dash a bourbon in the glass, kick back and when the bluebirds start to singin' up ta lemonade springs well... Be sure and call me, ya hear...over and out...    

Trash talk aside, the mountain whitefish has saved many us iced-up bug dunkers from tastin' dreaded skunk...true story.  

Sage Hens Are Indeed Alive and Well After All...

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Witnessing scenes such as this, (here Annie's nailed 'em, Kate's backin' her up) are the main reason I hunt birds in general and sage hens in particular. As I have noted previously this fall sage hens, for us anyway, were tough--such that more often than not we failed to find even a single grouse. Worse in all our best spots there was little or no sign of their passing. In a typical season which runs from September 1 through November 1 the hunting starts off slow, hit or miss through much of September, then October rolls around and like flipping a switch the big grouse start to show up. Growing in numbers until the last two weeks of season it is not at all unusual to see 50 or more birds each day. Killing a limit often becomes too easy, so much so I take to shooting only when the dogs do a really good job. And then other days my heart really isn't in it. In that sort of frame of mind usually even if the dogs do good my shooting isn't so hot and...Like I said is all about the dogs anyway so what.

But with the sagebrush virtually empty all fall I fretted and fussed hoping nothing catastrophic happened. And thanks to the sage hen gods I can now report nothing did. Three weeks or so ago winter hit southwest Montana with a vengenance. Snow, bitter winds and cold (some days the high failed to top zero) and while it didn't happen overnight for the past week or so Voila! sage hens everywhere, at least everywhere they're supposed to be...Yesterday the Sisters found two bunches; one of about 12 or so and the other more like 35 or 40.

Pretty damn nifty, eh?

Update: Deep Freeze

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The good news: the blizzard is history; Monida Pass is once again open, emptying Dillon of stranded motorists and allowing Dillonites to gobble Turkey Day feasts in peace--relatively speaking a course.

The bad news: the thermometer at first light bottomed out around negative 25 and the forecasted high is not expected to top 0 with an expected wind in the 10-20 mile range which should put the afternoon wind chill somewhere south of negative 30... Like Who-ee Baby It's Friggin' Cold Outside.

Worst thing is tomorrow the man says might even be...well lets just not go there.

Of course there ain't nothin' we can do just hope for the best and deal with whatever Ol' Man Winter tosses our way.

Obviously Annie (above) adapts well to cold and snow; Kate used to but, like us of late, sort of wimps out  once the mercury drops into negative territory. Oh well, tis all part of Montana living, like you don't like fickle weather you best look elsewhere...No, not on our agenda, at least not anytime soon.

Deja Vue All Over Again

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Gale shot this hero shot a couple turkey days ago up near Malta. (I know, I know, her bad luck the only model fool enough to pose that day twas me but like the man says you gotta play the hand dealt ya).

Anyway the temperature (not the wind chill mind you) at first light in town was -28 (not a typo). As I walked Kate to the vacant lot across the street from the motel (too damn cold to camp) I knew the only way would be to stall awhile hope for the best.

So we headed to the cafe ordered a big breakfast (thinking bigger might take longer) swilled coffee until the waitress finally quit bringing the pot, took a drive through the refuge (the excuse there was to see how many other insane hunters we might have to dodge--weren't none). Then instead of signing in to hunt the refuge we decided to stall some more and check out a couple WPAs. By this time the gal on the radio was waxing apoplectically "dangerous" wind chills and "blowing and drifting snow" creating "hazardous" conditions to your health and well-being so...What to do? 

Naturally we pulled the ear bobs down, loosed the hound and headed for the thickest, most drifted cattail tangle we'd seen on our early morning tour. Yes, it was damn cold, insanely so, but undaunted good ol' oblivious-to-snow-and-cold Kate soon uncovered a rooster, pushed it into a drift, pointed. Lucky me, it flushed almost close enough to kiss, too easy, I made the shot and...And in no time flat we had ourselves a 3-rooster limit.Mission more than satisfactorily accomplished we made a mad dash for the truck. Cranking up the heater we then took a drive over to Nelson to check on the ice fishing (we had no intention just seemed like a good time waster and twas--in case you're interested nary a fool). By then it was lunch time so we drove back into Malta, grabbed a bowl of hot soup, swilled more coffee and...And called her good. 

The reason I bring this monumentous occasion to light this morning is of course the air temp and wind chill are once again bottomed out--minus 10 on the porch, weatherman says the wind chill is about -25 and to expect blizzard conditions through tomorrow with even stronger wind, lower lows and...well, blizzard-like. Gale just reported I-15 into Idaho, the infamous Monida Pass, is now officially verbotten...

As Yogi might say, "Here we go folks looks a lot like deja vue all over again"....over and out...Chuck

Global Warming? What Global Warming...

On the heels of one of the wimpiest, at least snow-wise, winters ever this spring is fast becoming one to "really" remember. Ever since winter was declared "officially" dead it seems every time you turn around more snow, yet another winter storm warning, is in the forecast. Two days ago it snowed here in Dillon where it hardly ever snows much more than a dusting, ALL DAY!!! True here in the valley the white stuff melted almost as fast as it hit the ground but it came down hard and the storm hung around just about dawn to dark.

Now today here we go again. Another winter storm warning, this time forecast to stay mostly in the mountains but it's been raining since daylight and the temperature is hovering in the mid-30s and...And well, like I said, here we go again...at least the potential is out there for another snow day.

I shot these mountain blue bells (I think?) up on Badger Pass yesterday afternoon where there was still a few inches left over from the storm day before. Yes, it sure is pretty all that snow hanging on the trees and spring wildflowers and green grass poking thru the white blanket here and there but enough, it is after all nearly the end of May and high time to get on with it... 

It's deja vue all over again.

In a couple days we plan to hit the road again, hopefully gather a few more shots such as above Gale shot a couple seasons back. A day that dawned calm and sunny in downtown Malta--thankgoodness since the bank thermometer hovered at minus 28 as the gal on the radio issued dire warnings of imminent frostbite and should you dare to poke nose outside the afternoon high figured to top out around minus 10.

You sure know how to pick 'em, Gale smirked, while munching down a scrambled egg, bacon and cheese breakfast sandwich in the toasty dining room of the Great Northern Hotel.

You mean my choice breakfast spots or my brilliant idea of chasing rooster chickens about a landscape might make the Arctic tundra blush?

Have another snort of coffee, dear, it might very well be your last!!!

And so it went; as turned out not such a bad hunt after all though, don't spread it around, but I did vow afterward, if ever so softly, never, ever again. But as Yogi would say, It's deja vue all over again.

Stuck in a Deep Freeze... Again

In this neck of prairie it's been damn cold the past few days with apparently no let up in sight. The thermometer on the back porch this a.m.bottomed out around -15, balmy compared to up Havre way where the air temp was -25 with a wind chill of negative 40 or so...I don't want to know what Wisdom or Cut Bank the state's most notorious deep freeze zones might have been.

Anyway our plan is to head back up to Malta in a few days, ass freezin cold or no,we need to get in at least one last hunt. But that's still several days down the road so since there isn't much else to do outside the office I been day dreaming prior toastier times. Like in the photo up Wisdom way when we actually quit not long after Gale snapped the shutter. I recall clearly bitching long and loud how too damn hot our hunting seasons are getting...sorry hunting gods I will never ever again bitch too hot, promise. I've already mentioned in previous posts how wonderful the mid-November hunt near Malta so I won't repeat it here. But what really keeps creeping into my daydreams is how really toasty AZ was and how really inviting the idea of a repeat sounds right about now. Actually this Dec is a clone of last Dec and how at the last minute we said screw it, chasin quail for a week or so no matter how grim the propects sure beats crap outta freezing to death. And of course as I mentioned previously probably way too often how we ended up camping in AZ 35 nights... and how wonderful it all turned out and...well hell maybe there is still time to find a way, wish us luck.