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I needed to get out and fish. I had a long week at work and this one promises to be even busier. I must have been moping because Susan even asked me if I needed to get out. With a little encouragement, I was soon getting ready to fish. I asked Matthew if he wanted to go, and he told me it was too dreary to fish. I then asked Morgan. She is always up for an adventure with Dad, and today would be no different.

Together for another adventure

We decided to hit Clear Creek and really focus on getting Morgan into a few of the small browns that inhabit the park. Morgan loves to fish, but her passion is photography. She is just as happy taking pictures as she is fishing. I was excited to have her along. While I rigged up the rods, Morgan climbed around the rocks taking pictures of all sorts of things.

One of Morgan's random pictures

Soon, we were standing in water and discussing the seams and runs where we thought the fish should hold. Morgan is a sponge, and she was soon making perfect casts into a fishy looking seam. It did not take long for her to hook up with a feisty brown. The fantastic little fish jumped and ran while Morgan squealed, trying to fight that fish to the net. Unfortunately for the camera, the fish spit the fly right at her feet .She turned and smiled as she told me that one counted!

We worked our way upstream and soon Morgan was showing me the wonderful wind knot she had managed to tie. It was quite impressive and it took me several minutes to sort out. While I worked out this amazing wind knot, Morgan fished with my rod. She moved up through one of my favorite spots without moving a fish. I was soon fishing again, and I managed to work two fish out of the run she had just fished.

One of my fiesty browns

As she took random pictures, I moved up to the next spot and waited for her. She was soon at my side discussing where she thought a fish should be. On her third cast, she moved that fish. One cast later, she hooked and landed the beautiful little brown. I know I was far more excited than she was. It was a great moment for Dad! We fished some more and moved a few more fish. I floated through the rest of the afternoon.

My Girl with her fiesty little brown

What a wonderful afternoon spent with the most beautiful young lady I know. Thank you Morgan! I love you!

Taking a break!

I am not sure how to describe this trip. It started as a ridiculously beautiful day in mid March. Because of the weather, the anticipation to fish was almost more than I could take. The humor involved was typical; the fellowship was fantastic. It was a trip filled with promise, danger and even a few furious brown trout. Just another good day to be a fly fisher here in the FLATLAND.

Mike's father-in-law might be new to fly fishing, but definitely not new to catching loads of fish!

Another pretty-yet-small Mad brown

Mike, once again, provided the humor. We were finally all loaded up and ready to go when I asked him if he had bought his new license. We ended up back in the house and on the computer to buy a new license. Later, we watched Mike as he tried to cross a section of the river that was deeper than he was tall. It would have been fine, but he just kept walking. I am still not sure why he did not stop, but the whole thing reminded me of a cartoon.

We arrived at the river around 2:30 and the fishing started off superbly. I rigged up with a parachute adams and a copper john dropper. On my third cast, a fish came up and smacked the dry. I was a little slow on the take, but the fish did not spook. I soon had Mike’s father-in-law in position for his first fish of the day. Things were looking great, but they would not stay that way for long.

We decided to walk down the river to fish a beat that has always been good to us. We planned on working our way back up the river hitting all of the best riffles and runs. Mike and I hooked up quickly and before I knew it we both had a few fish in the net. And then the sky let loose. We saw the storm coming, but it did not look all that ominous. We continued to fish with the anticipation that we would soon be wet from a passing shower. Passing shower- yeah right!

It started off harmless enough, but soon there was heavy rain. This was then followed by pea sized hail that was then followed by larger grape-sized hail. Hail hurts! We all took what little shelter we could find beneath the tall cottonwoods. We were too far to run back to the car at this point and too wet to bother. To add insult to injury, our wading jackets were all dry and comfortable back at the car. Another brilliant move from the boys at Flatlander!

You can only imagine what the hail did to the mood of the fish. It was like we took an entire school of children to the river and gave them handfuls of river gravel to throw. It took things about an hour to settle back down, but we did end up catching another three or four more fish. From there, the day just sort of fizzled. We stayed until dark hoping for a spinner fall and a rise of fish, but that never happened. It was a fun, there was fishing and fellowship. There was even some danger. Another awesome adventure here in the flatland.

Days like this shouldn't end without a peek of blue sky.

Things are hopping along well at Flatlander. We’ve created a Facebook page for Flatlander Fly Fishing. For those of you who are already on Facebook, you can simply hook up to us at facebook.com/FlatlanderFlyFishing. There we will post many of our blog entries, videos, photos, news, and some useful links. Hope you join us!

What an exciting week! The weather is amazing, the time change has allowed for some evening fishing, and our latest video has been popping up all over the internet. For the second time this year, one of our videos has been featured on the Orvis website. We are the very first video on this week’s Friday Film Festival.

Earlier in the week, Global Fly Fisher and Knee Deep Fly Fishing embedded our video on to their websites. Trout Unlimited also added the video to their Facebook page. It has been great to share something that we enjoy so much. It is also nice to know that so many different people appreciate and respect our work enough that they are willing to share it on their websites.

I must once again thank Mike for his amazing work in editing all of the footage. We try very hard to take video that is worthy of the experience. We want people to understand and appreciate the magnificence and beauty of our fly fishing adventures. Between the camera and Mike’s editing, we believe this short film does just that.
Stay tuned, things are only going to get better!

Since the F3T Film Festival Thursday night, Matthew has been geeked up about getting out on the water. He has not stopped talking about doing some fishing. With the weather here today, we decided to quench his thirst and get him out on the water. I was a little pressed for time, so a short trip to Clear Creek would be the order of the day. My good friend Greg would join us on today’s adventure and it was great to share some fishing and some fellowship with a fine friend.

Bruceride in Action

Greg met us at the house after church and we were soon on our way. Matthew was quiet as he played video games while Greg and I caught up. It was a nice ride through the country that would end at a parking spot with three cars already there. One of the vehicles was my buddy Bruce and we decided to give the spot a try and maybe catch up with Bruce.
We found Bruce working a familiar spot and enjoying the amazing weather. After a brief fishing report from Bruce, we headed further upstream to fish some promising water that I knew would hold a fish or two. We navigated the woods and water and had fun watching Matthew enjoy his new hippers. I planned to fish sparingly and really focus on Matthew. He worked hard and listened well, but soon he was tired of my instruction and asked me to fish.

One for the Old Man

On my third cast, I hooked up with a feisty brown that we quickly brought to hand for a quick picture and a healthy release. That fish inspired Matthew and he was now more determined than ever. We fished that run for the better part of an hour and were only able to move one more fish. There were midges and little black stone flies everywhere, but I never saw a fish rise. Matthew was soon off on an adventure that included a great deal of mud, some puddle jumping and even more off water exploration.

Mr. Hesterman

We eventually worked our way down stream to the car. We fished the fishy looking spots and missed a few more fish. The highlight of my day came when Matthew told me where there should be a fish and then immediately hooked up. He lost that fish at his feet. I saw the familiar look of excitement and dejection that many of us know all too well. The day would end shortly thereafter when Matthew found out that the water was deeper than his hip boots were high! What a great day to spend with a fine friend and my amazing little man!

Matthew working a promissing run

In our late February trip to the Mad we start to see some signs of Spring making changes to the river. Bugs flying, vegetation in bloom, and Mike casting into trees.

Music by The Album Leaf.

Found this video on the Orvis Friday Film Festival blog. Really enjoyed it, considering my bias towards the bronzeback.

Film and fly fishing. Two of my favorite things. Put them together, it’s a lovely combination. Shane and I have made several attempts at documenting some of our adventures. Filming our trips has brought a whole new aspect to the sport…a new dimension. Not only are we trying to hook a fish, but also capture the essence of the adventure on film. It’s not easy. Trust me.

Knowing how difficult it is to give aesthetic justice to the sport of fly fishing on film, I am continually floored by the footage coming from amateur filmmakers and trout bums. The Fly Fishing Film Tour is a showcase of some of the best of fly fishing short films, trailers, and documentaries. The Tour visits dozens of cities each year. 2012 was the first year that Columbus has hosted the Tour, and it was quite a success.

When I bought my tickets, I got a sense that the crowd could be a little slim. Wrong. The largest theater at the Gateway Film Center was nearly filled to capacity. Overall, the quality of the films was quite impressive. Beautiful images, great storytelling, and some great action in and on the water. A couple of the selections were subpar, but not bad by any stretch of the imagination. I’ll cease further detailed comments about the films themselves. I’ll just say that the films are worth the price of admission. Hands down. Many of the selections are available to view at various outlets on the web, or on the Tour’s website (see below).

And if watching awesome movies featuring other people fishing isn’t your bag, there are several other things going on in the lobby of the theater. There were a dozen or so booths featuring products and demonstrations. Some of the booths were local businesses and organizations, and there were also some regional and national organizations represented. There was also a substantial raffle going on that had a fantastic bounty of prizes, ranging from magazines to posters, reels and rods, and one-of-a-kind artwork. Not to mention the opportunity to meet and fellowship with like-minded outdoorsmen who held a passion for their sport.

You can visit the Fly Fishing Film Tour at flyfilmtour.com

Day 3

I struggled once more to find sleep. The excitement and exhaustion from the day before were of little help in helping me to find rest. Once again, I was first from the tent and I made the short journey for the bear vaults. This morning, Steve would be making sausage and egg burritos for breakfast. After last night’s dinner these would be a welcomed treat. The air was chilly at forty-sis degrees and I longed for the other guys to wake. Soon enough they would both emerge from their tents to begin their own morning rituals.

Today’s fishing would consist of a much easier hike and for the first time this trip there would be no need for a back pack. This would be a welcome respite from the burden that has seemed to attach itself to my back. Free from the weight of my back, I felt as if I were dancing between the rock and along the stream.

After breakfast, we rigged up and headed for the river. We would hike upstream quite a ways before starting our fishing this day. In a promise to my friend Larry, I decided to tie on his favorite fly, an Elk Hair Caddis. He asked me to catch him one of those pretty cutthroats and that is exactly what I did. I am not sure how many I caught on his fly, but it was somewhere between one and thirty.

Meadow Perfection

As the morning warmed, I noticed more and more bug activity around the stream. What wasn’t hatching would have been an easier question this day. After noticing several large stone flies, Steve suggested that we try hopper patterns. This would be a wise and exciting move. I was giddy with excitement as I watched my large foam hopper disappear at nearly every trouty looking pool. I was amazed at how confidently the fish would take this large piece of foam and hair. The trout in this stream would completely destroy three of my deer hair and foam hoppers. The poor flies looked like they had been used as a puppy’s chew toy.

Holding On!

We stopped for lunch and a quick recap of the morning. We also refilled the water bottles and rested our bodies for the remainder of our journey. As the trip began, I really enjoyed my cliff bar, but lunch would find me only slightly satisfied with my meal. It was soon time to move again.

We hopped from pool to riffle on our way to one of the most beautiful meadows I have ever seen. I felt content fishing that meadow. It was as if I were fishing a painting from some long ago artist. The place screamed western fly fishing to my eastern heart. I was there. I had arrived at the pinnacle of my fly fishing career. I was hiding in waist high grass fling a grass hopper in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. And, I was rewarded for the effort.

A Fisherman's Playground

We fished the meadow deep into the afternoon. Along the way, Steve showed us another small lake. Solitude Lake was a marshy, muddy pool that seemed to be the perfect setting for moose sightings and smaller trout. I hooked into a half a dozen ten inch cutthroats as I waded through the monotonous mud. We were also blessed with the sighting of a cow moose and her calf. They were on the move and far too quick to get a picture, but they fit perfectly into the picture that I had created in my head many years before.

One of MANY!

Our fishing would end here and soon we were on our way back t o camp. The two mile hike would take us along the game trails that followed the river. Once again, I danced through the forest like I have so many times before. It was a fun and much less tedious hike than any from the previous days. After a quick clean up and some feet soaking in the river, we headed for camp and another less than memorable meal.

This night would find us in the tents early and no moose were seen. Instead we watched the lightening brighten out tents as the thunders seemed to rip open the sky from one mountainside to the other, allowing the rain to spill out and onto the earth. It was another amazing experience that made me glad I was there. I would easily survive my first mountain storm.

Day 4

With conflicted emotions I have both dreaded and longed for this day: The last day. I would hike out today and immediately miss the mountains. I would also have the chance to speak to my beloved family that I had missed so much. I thought of them every step of the way. I missed them more with each moment. I longed to hear their sweet voices and feel their warm embrace. However, I had fallen in love with the mountains: their beauty, their deafening silence and majesty, their solitude and their gift of trout.

The Hike Out

The trip out was pretty uneventful. We had a quick and easy hike back down the valley. We fished very little and stopped once again at the Big Pool. My fishing would end where it had started. Two more cutthroat trout and I packed my fishing gear away, ready to complete the rest of my journey. The conversation turned from mountains and fish to family and cheeseburgers! It was a quiet hike out for all of us.

The Creek along North Inlet Trail

Day 2

I am not sure if I was excited or overly exhausted, but I did not get as much sleep as I had hoped for. Tight quarters, sore muscles, and everything nylon kept me awake most of the night. I was the first one out of the tent. I needed to get up and stretch a bit before we climbed the mountain. Today we would have an arduous hike to a lake that was situated at 10,700 feet above seas level. After a Cliff Bar and some water for breakfast, my abbreviated back pack was ready for the journey up the hill.

The trail was steep and slow as we navigated the dead fall and switch backs along the way. The scenery was once again spectacular as we climbed in and out of the trees. The sounds of long waterfalls echoed through the valleys and the smells of fresh wildflowers filled the air. It was a wonderful climb that rested at Lake Nakoni.

Steve at trout barren Lake Nakoni

Finally at Lake Nanita, I was ready to fish. A size 14 black ant would be the ticket for this lake. The trout were eager to sip the small fly from the surface film. I am not sure how many fish I caught in my two hours there, but it had to be close to thirty.  I went one direction while Wes and Steve went the other way. After catching several fish, I returned for a snack and to see how those two were doing. On my way I found the lake’s outlet. There was a no fishing sign and I wondered why. After inspecting the outlet, I found out why. This is where the fish were spawning, thousands of fish. I have only seen things like this in a hatchery. There seemed to be over a thousand fish stacked in an area less than fifty yards long. It was truly an amazing thing to see in the wild.

Soon I was fishing the same bay with Wes and Steve and on several occasions we all had trout hooked. Doubles and triples would be the norm for the day. After a short conversation, Steve implored us to make the hike back to Nakoni and then over the steep saddle to fish Pettingell Lake. Wes was having some knee issues and told us to go. We set a time to meet back at Nakoni and soon we were humping it back over the ridge.

The hike to Pettingell Lake was one of the toughest and most beautiful of the entire trip. We hiked from 10, 500 to 11,200 and it was steep enough to need my hands at times. However, the view from the top of that saddle is one that will remain with me until the day I die.  I could have sworn that I heard Julie Andrews singing in the distance.

The hike down the other side was a little hairy. It was nothing more than a rock field in the woods. The idea of fishing for big, hungry, and dumb fish was enough to get me down there. After scrambling to make it to the lake, we quickly rigged up and immediately we were into fish. We had forty-five minutes to fish to make it back in time. In that time I caught twelve trout on a 16 parachute adams and lost a few more. It was amazing to think that I was one of only a few people to ever fish this lake. I was elated and humbled at the same time. It saddened me to think that I would probably never return.

The hike out was hard and fast. I could feel my heart beating in my ears. We made it back to meet Wes in plenty of time. We each told stories of the fish we caught and the hike we had. I soaked my feet in the gin clear waters of Lake Nokoni and smiled with the delight of knowing I had lived a true back country fly fishing adventure.

The hike down the mountain was both spectacular and tedious. I was whipped and I looked forward to food, a cold bath, and a warm sleeping bag. I found all three. Although the cardboard stew left a little to be desired. It was chicken, but it sure tasted like cardboard! Before I found sleep, the camp was once again invaded by another moose. This time it would be a very, very large bull. It was too dark for a good picture, but trust me it was impressive.