Fly Fishig: Times Past and Far Away Places

Early on I discovered the Hornberg...Wet or dry didn't seem to matter so long as I pitched 'em on the straight and narrow...

...but that was later. In the beginning we drowned garden hackle but the bait of choice, seined minnows--run stripers in case you are interested--really got it done. We fished almost exclusively for half-starved brook trout since Pap ran the show and as far as I know never in all his life fished anywhere near where the stock trucks dumped "those friggin' fakes the bastards try to pawn off as trout." Pap was, you might say, somewhat opinionated when it came to fish and fishing methods. Later after I had decided to dedicate my life to becoming an "expert" fly chucker, Pap snorted at the idea. Said to the old man, "Charlie there's somethin' wrong with the boy, I mean, gezzus mighty, fishin' a sissy stick!!!

But as I say flies came later; half-starved brookies were flat out suckers for a strung up "minnie" as we called 'em.  And while it took a few seasons to get the hang of it by the time I graduated high school, not to brag, the hardest part of hauling a limit (8 daily, 6-inch minimum) was keeping the minnies alive in the jar, e.g. for the uninitiated in the audience, "dead minnies work but not for much."  Pap... 


Spinning rods were out there I guess but I didn't own one. Instead made do with telescoping steel poles and later el cheapo bamboo which of course were better though not much. My first bamboo was made somewhere in Asia--probably Japan--back in the day "Made in Japan" was something of a sick joke. The OM won it on a punch board at the Legion and I'm pretty sure the only reason he gave it to me was to try and appease Mom for yet another boys late night out. But that was their business. The important thing was "I" was now proud owner of a "real fly rod" and...Well, as they say, the rest is history; albeit a rather convoluted tale which I will continue to post off and on in the near future as time and duty dictate...over and out...

Fly Fishing: Fly Friday

The Black Magic is one of many spinoffs of the venerable Chernobyl Ant...What the trout think is of course more than I know? But if I was a hungry trout...well I'd be hard pressed to let a buggy lookin' critter such as it is pass by...And probably that's all there is to it...Another one of those imponderables just is...

In my boat, as an attractor patterns go the Black Magic ranks right up there with the Wulffs, Purple Haze, Stimis, PMXs, Gypsy Kings and all the rest. Some days it really is "magic" especially anytime the light dims--early mornings, storm clouds rolling in, darkness falling--but there are days particularly on the upper Big Hole when trout gobble it all day long, bright sun, high cloudless sky be damned...

Such a day last summer serves as prime example...Two older, as in more ancient than even your intrepid reporter, N.C. gentlemen scoffed as I rigged their leaders with Magics...John Robert actually guffawed quite nasty like I might adds...."Sam I told ya'll we shoulda canceled soon as Al pawned us off on Chuck here...In all my days ain't never seen a guide tie on a stupider lookin' bug and two of 'em mind!!!"

Fast forward now to lunchtime...See the pair of Magics, one bears no legs and most of the wing is missing; the other minus a pair legs, just a few wisps of wing hair remains and half the foam body is flat out gone! What you thinkin' now Bro? Chuck you are the MAN! No less a friggin' genius...I rest my case.

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...