tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36616784204922130992024-03-19T04:36:17.363-07:00Ramblings of a Flatlander(Thoughts and stories from life in <strike>Central Pennsylvania</strike> Western Montana)Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-27389600535048868552011-10-24T08:11:00.000-07:002011-10-24T08:14:47.919-07:00Pheasant Asylum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRku0DL2Ikx7EgB8FSgtyStN6wwuvmlPlP52OF6JdVurGTCOsUmMYADh73dyKD7iu9NA2DjCU-GetpoetlgO6WX6WcM52CS3UaJ-DqWshOT5nTxx9SmzoznpO0ogKmONolEt3gliejNS4/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRku0DL2Ikx7EgB8FSgtyStN6wwuvmlPlP52OF6JdVurGTCOsUmMYADh73dyKD7iu9NA2DjCU-GetpoetlgO6WX6WcM52CS3UaJ-DqWshOT5nTxx9SmzoznpO0ogKmONolEt3gliejNS4/s400/photo.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Dear Ron,<br />
<br />
Well, I had an interesting time up at nine pipes. Here's a shorter rendition of a longer story, if you're interested:<br />
<br />
Not knowing the area (and only having a brief conversation with Neil before leaving) I scoured each of the State parcels adjacent to the Refuge. It was a while before the dogs caught some scent and a while longer before we actually saw (very skittish) birds. The dogs pointed what must have been a trail where two hens had just run - the boys readjusted a couple times, but the birds had run a long ways already and flushed a good 100 yards out in front of us (no kidding). <br />
<br />
A touch later, a hen and cock bird flushed well out in front of us, too, but I kept an eye on the male and got the dogs back on his trail. As the dogs closed in he flushed again, this time a bit closer. I pulled up, hesitating slightly (oops) as he was pretty far away and the cross wind was blowing hard. I decided, pulled the trigger and saw him dip ever so slightly. I was pretty sure he was winged - the hunt was on... Long story short, we tracked that rooster for about an hour - well, we searched for a track - there seemed to be no scent to find. The only thing I could surmise was that he'd buried himself in a small patch of cattails and was hunkered down biding his time. That, or dead. The dogs and I waded in to see what we could see. <br />
<br />
The 'tails were dry and loud and we made a racket as we crashed through. The dogs needed some encouragement to keep hunting through the tangle. Soon I realized neither dog was making any noise. Hm... I made my way to them and sure enough, they were both on point, noses almost touching. I started sifting through the cover to recover my first MT pheasant (or so I thought), but soon realized the bird had snuck out and I could see (barely through the cattails) that he was out onto dry ground and trying to fly, unsuccessfully. I shot again, but apparently all my pellets spent their energy mowing cattails instead of finding that bird... With that, the dogs went crashing out after the bird (Dad never misses...ha!). I got myself free of the cattails just in time to see this bird running, dogs in tow, directly for the National Wildlife Refuge border 50 yards away. Literally bee-lining for the damn signs. The dogs were losing ground, but still close enough to prevent a shot. <br />
<br />
<i>...And so, there I stood, watching in dismay as my "first MT pheasant" went running into the safety of the Game Bird Embassy, barbed wire guards closing the gate behind his tail feathers...</i><br />
<br />
I went and bought a beer, chatted with the guy in Ronan Sporting and Western, and spent the rest of the afternoon knocking on ranchers' doors for permission. Not many folks were home - not sure if opening day of rifle season may have had something to do with that - but I saw some great country and have a strategy for finding some more ground and, god willing, birds.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I hope you had more success with ducks than I on the ditch-chickens - and that you enjoy Hawaii! I wish it weren't so darn expensive or I'd be there presenting some work from my dissertation. As it were, that will have to wait for another venue this coming spring.<br />
<br />
I'll keep pestering from time to time, but if you'd like to get out, just drop me an e-mail or give me a ring. My cell phone number is 814.574.6128.<br />
<br />
Happy hunting,<br />
<br />
AlexAlex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com1Ronan, Mt 59864, USA47.5288233 -114.101501347.5073803 -114.1409833 47.5502663 -114.06201929999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-57779898764037475232011-10-07T08:11:00.000-07:002011-10-12T08:16:33.798-07:00Tie, test - Streamers on the Clark ForkGot a nice streamer idea from Benny and tied up a few variations yesterday morning. Had a talk to attend at 5:00, so I hit the river around 3:45 and fished for 45min. Despite the weight on the flies, the water was big and it took burying the rod on the stream bed in front of my feet to get them deep enough to induce strikes. Caught a couple, very big white fish - well I think they were white fish. The bodies looked like white fish, but instead of the "sucker" looking mouth, they both had a wide, almost catfish mouths. A quick search online didn't produce any revelations. Anyone have any ideas? Caught one on a quick change to BWOs, but the last streamer cast of the day produced this guy:
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The talk was on masculinity and the three papers focused on the perversion of the reality of cowboys to fit a masculine myth, a review of a novel challenging the male-dominated, aggressive domination of the western environment, and a scathing critique of how county music videos and songs perpetuate sexism and ill-defined gender roles. I've been to my fair share of conference presentations, but I was struck by the format and the eloquence of the presentations. Granted, the papers were pre-written and read, often word for word, from the page. Despite the blatant disregard for all the public speaking rules, it worked very well - the mastery of the written word was impressive and inspiring. I was frustrated, however, with the implied conclusion that these myths have been conspiratorially and maliciously perpetuated by some "powers that be." I tend to think, rather, that these ideas are rooted in our identify and mythos as a people, as Americans, and, not unimportantly, in our biochemistry. It's been perverted and usurped at various times for a variety of malicious and greedy purposes, but our willingness, no, our eagerness to buy into these myths is not manufactured, it is based in tradition, history, identity, in our failings and in our dreams (honorable and otherwise). Beyond that, and in addition to being just plain fascinating, the talks got me thinking about my research: how has our culture's definitions of men, of domination over nature, of independence and ruggedness, of traditional masculine roles and a nostalgia, justified or not, for how it was long ago affected our natural resource policy. And more importantly, how does it inform the acceptance and effectiveness of new natural resource policies and extension efforts. Its a perspective that reminds me of my high school days, reading "Choice of Heros," and trying to understand who I was, how the world would view me, and if I really cared. Favorite line of the night came from Carl (don't know last name) from the Missoula Public Library - "The myth of the cowboy is alive and well. Anyone visiting the statehouse in Helena will witness an endless parade of cowboy drag. Feet squeezed into shiny, pointed boots and hats on heads of folks who couldn't herd anything, let alone cattle."Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0Missoula, Mt, USA46.872146 -113.993998246.785306 -114.15192669999999 46.958986 -113.8360697tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-53664065290896139412011-10-05T08:18:00.000-07:002011-10-05T08:51:09.143-07:00Urban trout<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I moved to Missoula in June, the Clark Fork (and most any other low lying depression) was full of chocolate milk. Frothy, fast, and inhospitable to most any aquatic creature, including me. I debated sneaking into the soft chocolate of lawns and parking lots a few times, but decided the marginal chance of good fishing wasn't worth the time away from work. So I hunkered. Every trip across a bridge inspired glances at seams and surveys of the scrambleability of banks. June passed. July passed. The water was still angry from the melting of record snowfall. Just my luck. Travel, work, travel, visitors. I got out. I had success. But the few hours I had were best spent, I thought, on the legendary blackfoot, the renowned rock creek, and the bitterroot. And these rivers are amazing. Very. And so August passed, too, without me fishing in town. The weather has changed from summer to fall. Yesterday the clouds rolled in, dark, and rain poured down in the morning. I'd decided the week before I was finally going to bite the bullet and fish in town and was just waiting for a day like this. Now, you see people fishing in town and they all look like asswipes. Indicators flying everywhere, never left alone long enough to even approach a reasonable drift. Flies in bushes. And never any bent rods. Guys at the flyshops speak disparagingly of "messing around in town." And so I'd avoided it, confident that if the fishing was worth it, more people would be there who knew what they were doing. But the weather was right and I'd stared at the river in town long enough.
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I started under a bridge, walking by a recently abandoned motorcycle lying in the stream leaking god knows what. Second cast, fish. Hm. Ok. Not a lunker, but a solid little rainbow. Fought like hell. Looked beautiful. Maybe this will work?! I worked a seam upstream, produced a handful more little rainbows. A small hole in a side channel gave up a meatier specimen. I bombed up the bank and sped along the trail past mailboxes and sandbags and driveways. After a couple hundred yards of slack water, there was a hole that looked tasty and was, of course, occupied by some dude with a tacklebox and bobbers. Ha. He probably caught a shit ton! He wasn't very interested in talking, so I moved upstream further. Hopped some silt fence and scrambled down some rip rap. The bank, as it hit the water, got even steeper, it was about 6" deep a foot out and about 10' deep a foot and a half out. I thought this looked promising, but who knows right? I flopped and sank some flies. Nothing. I slowly worked my way along the tangled bank. Flop, sink, swing, nothin. I got myself fully tangled in some trees, almost swimming a couple times. Flop, sink, swing, BAM! Oh yeah, baby! Big flash from a pissed off fish. Reel whined. I contemplated trying to follow it downstream, but I was really fully tangled and couldn't move. Luckily the big guy gave up the fight after a while and the current allowed me to haul him back to my perch. Beautiful rainbow, thick, strong. Missed another one on the next cast - big flash. Damn... And then I proceeded to lose about 10 flies. Fuck my ass. Some in the stream, some in a tree, some, who the hell knows where they went... I literally stomped the ground and swore. Some douche decided that the 4 foot bank was a good place to walk his aggressive dogs. Ok, time to take a break. I seated my fly and walked upstream some more.
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This is where I wanted to fish anyway. Everytime I ride my bike downtown I look at this part of the stream. Main channel running big on one side of the channel. The side channel dumped into the main through three consecutive runs. Lotta seams, lotta water, lotta places for fish. And I caught a pile. Nymphing was slow at first - caught a couple. Water was big on the inner seam of the first run so I switched to streamers. After only a couple casts I got hammered. Huge rainbow! Took me almost to my backing. People pointing from the bridge. HA! I was laughing out loud it was so fun. Damn thing fought like hell. And the current was on his side. But after a while I won, dragging that beast into the net. He was whooped. But I held him up to the people looking from the bridge. Nothing like a little exhibitionist fishing. The streamer produced only one other fish at that spot, but it didn't matter. The nymphs pulled a dozen more, and a pile of solid whitefish, too, to keep my interest peaked.
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As dark approached I decided I wanted to hit one other very public spot so I hiked back to the car and drove upstream. I was the only person there for about 10 min. Had a huge fish on that popped off. It hit softly at the end of my swing and was probably only hooked by one scale. Saw him flash, held him through one run downstream, but lost him on a crazy barrel roll. Big fish. Oh well, back at it. Others showed up. Three guys upstream, two down stream, just as I'd tied on streamers to work the edge... I stuck with the streamers and worked slowly down as far as I could. Two cutts cooperated. One of the guys upstream stuck in behind me and fucking hammered a huge brown on a cream streamer. Damn. Nice fish. I pulled a few others out after swithing back to nymphs. At one point, I shit you not, I was focusing intently on my sighter and suddenly realized a goddamn syringe was floating next to my line. Well shit. If the fishing wasn't so good, I might have cared. I wonder what the dirty-needle durability of my G3s are? I ignored the urge to think about the source of this and what else was in the water, besides trout. The west mountain stone caught the biggest, a fiesty cutt hanging out in the cold water coming out of a trib. Dark was falling. I was content. And I figured Libby was about done with spin class. Just before dark I packed it in. What a great day! Its not the prettiest scenery and obvious influences of 100,000 people in the immediate watershed. But there was cold air, the clouds of October, and cooperative, big fish. I guess I've no excuse not to be fishing when I've only got an hour or so on my hands. Darn...Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0Missoula, Mt, USA46.872146 -113.993998246.785306 -114.15192669999999 46.958986 -113.8360697tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-89127938250201228682011-06-16T13:56:00.000-07:002011-06-16T14:08:25.173-07:00Sulphur partingLyme had me down hard. Tried to go fishing once and ended up curled up in a ball in the front of Ben's truck sleeping. Sleeping hard. Fever. So it was that this year's spring fishing almost matched the turkey hunting. Not quite, but damn, between the blown out rivers every other day (or everyday on Penn's), getting sick, packing, and moving, there weren't much of it. Not enough anyway.<br /><br />Ben left the Monday before I was to move - I respect his ability to know what he wants to deal with, what he doesn't, and to do something about it - so Paul and I headed to the little J on Tuesday evening. It was a scorcher with temps in the mid-90s so we figured the hatch wouldn't happen until o'dark thirty. Turns out it didn't really happen at all. I did catch about 7 or 8 though, on a smattering of flies. First on H&C, then swinging some sulphur emergers through the back of an under-bridge run, then on rusty spinners as dark fell. Foggy night at times, glasses clouding up, sweat beading and running. Odd to look around trying to absorb surroundings in the memory banks. The thickness of the leavs, the smell of the water, the feel of the humidity, the tug of hungry browns with sulphur pierced lips. I'm terrible at remembering those things. I think we cooked some steaks, potato skins, and asparagus at home, late, after the drive back up from Spruce Creek. Not an epic end to 8 years in PA, but appropriately subtle and relaxed.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-61348438334936571342011-06-16T13:45:00.000-07:002011-06-16T13:56:16.557-07:00Cosmic LockdownThe only picture I have is of Ben and Paul in their skivvies on the camp porch looking over a map. It ain't pretty nor good for anyone so, you're welcome.<br /><br />Last spring in PA before moving to Missoula; time to book some days in the turkey woods. Got Paul to take 2 days off from work and a couple more from the family to join Ben and I in the Quehanna to chase birds. The birds were supposed to be thick, the weather perfect, and the pressure light. Long story short, we didn't hear a goddamn gobble - not one - for three full days. Denny's camp was awesome, the food superb, the booze plentiful and we even managed to get up super super early to bomb deep into the woods, well off the roads. The ground was tore up, the sign thick, the other hunters almost non-existent. Not one gobble. Not a distance one, not a early-morning tree gobble followed by silence; just the silence. Made you think there weren't any birds there, but we know better. There are a TON of birds there. Is was just on cosmic lockdown. Super going away present from PA. Oh, and to top if off, Ben and I got lyme disease from two never-seen ticks. 6 days of 102 fever followed by 8 more of exhaustion, then a bullseye rash met with steroids and 4 weeks of doxycycline. Fun. Fuckers. We did get into some trout on Kettle (picky, feisty stockies) and Medix (beautiful little brookies). But WTF. Cosmic Lockdown. Sonovabitch.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-5087123809491906822011-05-16T08:30:00.000-07:002011-05-16T08:32:41.950-07:00Old meCleaning out my office in preparation for the move West. Reading over old papers and tests and stupid things I should have thrown out years ago. I'm struck by the thought that the old me has been lost. I remember a philosophical, curious, eager person prepared to take on the world if need be. I am not that young man anymore. It sounds melodramatic, but the world beats you down. I now find myself concentrating on the here and now - trying to enjoy moments - rather than on where I'm headed. The world is too unpredictable, too cruel, and too slow-moving to pay much heed to the dreams and whims of poor boys from Vermont. Especially if you believe that. Focusing on the moments is good - and I need to be better about remembering (documenting?) - but accomplishing something of meaning is gaining importance in my life again. I think my education has simultaneously served to heighten my understanding of how the world works and fog my view of how it can get any better. I need to clear the fog.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-42677108868345737862011-05-16T07:38:00.000-07:002011-05-16T08:09:26.210-07:00PS102 - Exam #1"Locke thought that most people, in anarchy, would live according to the golden rule -- and they would do so out of fear of revenge. Hobbes said we are all naturally greedy, jealous, and mistrustful. In a state of anarchy, we might all want to follow the golden rule, but we will cheat - mostly out of the fear that our neighbor will cheat first."<br /><br />"If I have lots of property and get you to believe that a set of laws is good because it will protect your life, your freedom, and your property, I have gotten you to subscribe to a belief that you can never take my property or interfere with my pursuit of more. Since I have more property than you to begin with, I can use this new set of laws to oppress you and remain more powerful."<br /><br />"The liberal agenda is to limit government spending on welfare (social) programs, limit government intervention in the market, and reduce taxes in a country. Liberals want other countries to stop wasting money on people who can't help themselves, collect those monies owed to them, and let the invisible hand guide the market. The people of "X" might oppose this because they do not believe the "universal" values that liberalism is based on. Perhaps they believe all people, in order to be happy, must have food, water, and shelter and that it is a government's responsibility to provide these goods, no matter the cost."<br /><br />"Those in charge of social engineering in USSR thought they knew what a perfect society was. To them, this notion justified any means by which to reach this end. This is not based on the idea that each man may have a different idea of happiness, but rather on the the modern thought that if you sit and think and write long enough, you will understand certain "truths" in life - and that these truths are the same for all mankind. After seeing what atrocities could arise from such assumptions, this rationale (although still accepted by many) has been rejected by most in the educated and political world."<br /><br />"Market World - is based on individual greed, creativity and productivity. It is based on the belief that the market will provide for all and allow for social reforms. It is based on a belief that the market, not the government, will protect all people and things needing protection. For this reason, Market World has no trade barriers, no government imposed environmental regulations, and no social welfare programs. It is a world where success trickles down and becomes success for the poor.<br /><br />Fortress World - is based on the idea that market world will fail. It is based on the belief that the rich get rich on the backs of the poor and of the environment. All success in fortress world is concentrated in small islands surrounded by oceans of poverty; oceans filled with hostile poor, eager to undermine the success that mocks them.<br /><br />Transformed World - is based on an evolution of values: instead of valuing profit, people will be more important. Employment before profit. Fairness will be more important than success. In this World, market pressures shift from greed to more humanitarian desires. In an attempt to avoid Fortress World, people in Transformed World make inclusion of all in the success of society a top priority"Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-31659050632174441542011-05-10T06:33:00.000-07:002011-05-11T07:41:45.979-07:00Spring in PA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMwk39AFlR2MD2iBbNsqiAUs9htBfLHTpnNVEnW4iBa1O4hFgvfUIyfi4XUoI2r20JzIT-vcOGQ4wPrBAQN7SnQ1cAmyMXSwgYxJ_-NVzM82FA6HmcLw14RwEioFBhqUMOfN9eECYsJY/s1600/turkeys.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMwk39AFlR2MD2iBbNsqiAUs9htBfLHTpnNVEnW4iBa1O4hFgvfUIyfi4XUoI2r20JzIT-vcOGQ4wPrBAQN7SnQ1cAmyMXSwgYxJ_-NVzM82FA6HmcLw14RwEioFBhqUMOfN9eECYsJY/s400/turkeys.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605086187516372098" /></a><br /><br />After many too many days of cold weather, rain, and late snow squalls, spring has finally sprung in Happy Valley. As the buds are bursting and new leaves stretching skyward I've been trying to spend as much time as possible in the turkey woods and in trout waters before the move West. The trout have been cooperative, the turkeys not so much, although there have been two close calls. After a silent opening morning, I spent the first Monday on the Weaver property. Walking the entire border of the property yielded nothing, but as I was leaving I found myself peeking into the front field where a Tom and two Jakes were strutting their stuff and chasing each other around. After a belly-crawl to the corner of the field edge, the yellow gate to my left, I posted my gun on the left side of a white oak and gave some soft purrs and clucks. The Tom came running from right to left. "Perfect!" Or so I thought. Instead of his head poking out from behind that oak, all I saw was the tip of his tail, down, as he turned and headed back into the field. I guess I should have set up on the other side of that tree... Sonova... Being on the edge of the posters, and knowing there was at least one other hunter wandering the property, I hesitated. As usual, just a moment of doubt erases opportunity. In hindsight, I should have swung steadily around that tree and pulled the trigger, but within seconds that bird had retreated back down into the center of the field - my decision making time blew my chance. I regrouped and called again, but only the smallest Jake would come in. He stood at 15 yards in my sights for a few minutes, but I passed; his beard was barely protruding from his chest.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbOVAb6fb_bx5MwymozKD-iX6oqXeikDIcw6Y79gltu0m0jeAbjVPDIJeo_ghhFaaVs3s-YwithmF-zz5wG6qa06x1k_roFoeAi8KnUNTcqvVxQH9MKBb3WH-sqj7Lxks_fDgYjvUDrwY/s1600/warming_hut.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbOVAb6fb_bx5MwymozKD-iX6oqXeikDIcw6Y79gltu0m0jeAbjVPDIJeo_ghhFaaVs3s-YwithmF-zz5wG6qa06x1k_roFoeAi8KnUNTcqvVxQH9MKBb3WH-sqj7Lxks_fDgYjvUDrwY/s400/warming_hut.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605082481108810882" /></a><br /><br />The second chance came with Paul and Ben a few days later. After toying with a hen on "gobbler's knob," we moved in on a Tom that finally decided to be vocal. We snuck within 50 yards and set up just as he came into view through the understory. Ben was to my left, Paul behind us calling. He came in within 20 yards but was always behind thick brush - very thick stand with a short canopy and lots of deadfall. As soon as he was in sight, two hens showed up as well. I think we all converged at the same moment, because those hens cut his path off (to my gun)and steered him away, silencing his gobble, and ruining our opportunity. Attempts to circle them and re-engage were futile.<br /><br />Luckily, the fishing has been more fruitful. Ben and I headed down to the Little J the past two nights. The sulphurs were around, but no spinner fall to speak of. Regardless, we've caught about 40 fish in a total of 5-6 hours.<br /><br />Mother's day brought a relatively uncrowded stream - suckers! - and we were able to cover a lot of water that hadn't seen guys in a while. The side channels proved most productive with some fat browns sipping our dries and emergers in little more than 5" of water. After I broke my rod (yep, shit), Ben and I shared his rod, alternating fish. Well, either one lunker or three small ones brought on a change in hands. The rod break was a blessing in disguise as we stood side-by-side all evening, guiding each other, talking flies and strategy and celebrating each perfect drift, each sip or strike, and each netted brute. <br /><br />Last night was a little less productive - we had to work for each fish, but we managed to pull them from tricky locations across big runs, tucked in eddies, under branches, and to outlast those picky fish waiting several minutes before rises, waiting for the perfect bug. Again, the spinner fall was absent, but the sulphurs are definitely on. Hope this rain holds out for our trip to the Quehanna...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsC4oPt32-2hgFw9R9K6qeLnNNgLVMIppx4BIP8dw0z_aYxNPBHvlfdiW_pEKhhm6Cq0WpY8wAbVU3y2CMH7QUBid-Ic8PsoQRmSxmfiRQqx1Vumf21dJbUCze7er0P77z_vnwQ3TAov4/s1600/fishing_broke.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsC4oPt32-2hgFw9R9K6qeLnNNgLVMIppx4BIP8dw0z_aYxNPBHvlfdiW_pEKhhm6Cq0WpY8wAbVU3y2CMH7QUBid-Ic8PsoQRmSxmfiRQqx1Vumf21dJbUCze7er0P77z_vnwQ3TAov4/s400/fishing_broke.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605102387990178802" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Zh3OLNHgUf3X0nmmJoXrONY6626ww4OUUmVRn1GGReBhMm4WQcM_HxRPq091BMlzQyZ_Kidkc8Nh78erBi5zEebOt1krZpRvoekwMnQ5-YCpv7yeaUEFFN-XbdvCBcxgrDxKXD097GU/s1600/fishing_littlej_sidechannel.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Zh3OLNHgUf3X0nmmJoXrONY6626ww4OUUmVRn1GGReBhMm4WQcM_HxRPq091BMlzQyZ_Kidkc8Nh78erBi5zEebOt1krZpRvoekwMnQ5-YCpv7yeaUEFFN-XbdvCBcxgrDxKXD097GU/s400/fishing_littlej_sidechannel.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605102280262505602" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXoHO06bu4ox9d0k38RcOMBlw3sxS7ydYuyZYGAWckR9W2bz5ZvOF1Zk1J8K79b43milFnaCGswh1ISI5d3RWZsqDWVJKl9wjYjxvTg0i3lMPeNzcEwgPLU06jvALrgOYQ-pHGlrN0LaY/s1600/side_channel_chunker.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXoHO06bu4ox9d0k38RcOMBlw3sxS7ydYuyZYGAWckR9W2bz5ZvOF1Zk1J8K79b43milFnaCGswh1ISI5d3RWZsqDWVJKl9wjYjxvTg0i3lMPeNzcEwgPLU06jvALrgOYQ-pHGlrN0LaY/s400/side_channel_chunker.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605102459072697394" /></a>Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-24493706902777296212009-10-30T08:44:00.000-07:002009-10-30T09:24:32.666-07:00Toftrees Pair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dLQ9WGwGdgA/SusJ5d7v-dI/AAAAAAAAAPg/fgpWF-gZwxw/s1600-h/IMG00049.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dLQ9WGwGdgA/SusJ5d7v-dI/AAAAAAAAAPg/fgpWF-gZwxw/s400/IMG00049.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398419461226101202" /></a><br /><br />With the lingering questions about Porter's prognosis, yesterday was just about shot, mentally. His bleeding had restarted and his energy the night before had bottomed out. While his energy was higher yesterday morning, the bleeding would quickly ensure he was back in dire straights. A trip to the vet resulted in a change of antibiotics (to directly target bacteria that worsens ulcers) and an increase in the stomach "coater" and antacids. Basically, if his body can't stop the bleeding, he's in serious trouble. Experimental surgery may be available, but is likely prohibitively expensive and far from a guarantee.<br /><br />As Porter was supposed to fast all day (to limit stomach acids), I decided to let him rest for a while and head out to Toftrees with T for another walk. Paul and I agreed they should have stocked recently, so it might be worth a second shot. The packed access parking lot and shots that rang out as I geared up told me we were right. I was there less than five minutes when the first rooster flew directly over my head, bumped by a group of hunters just over a rise. I shouldered the gun and watched down the barrel as the bird flew to me, overhead, and away, swooping up into a thick tangle of rose, honeysuckle, and green briar. I wasn't going to shoot a bird in that situation after having only been there for such a short period of time. Plus, I wanted to get some good bird contacts with T, even resolving to not shoot birds that weren't pointed.<br /><br />There were a lot of guys, a lot of birds, and a lot of shooting. Just walking in got the adrenaline pumping a bit. I probably let it get to me a bit and instead of walking around the action to the middle or back of the property, I jumped into the first good cover I saw. Not 10 yards in, T spun around and pointed, hard, to my right. I walked in a bit and he started to show signs of just pointing scent: is eyes started to wander, search, and his tail started to move. I encouraged him to hunt again and he got on a scent, worked to my left and through a thick tangle. Directly on the far side of the thickness I heard the bird go up - never saw it. It was the first sign that the birds were going to be running a lot today making the points hard. After a short walk, further into the cover, I decided to quit this nonsense (hunting under the barrage of gunfire) and head deeper into the property. It took a while to find a fence row without hunters in it, but finally got into a place by myself. On my way, I saw a few birds bumped by other parties - in fact, I didn't see a bird flushed and shot despite the repeated shots of guys emptying their guns.<br /><br />Had almost a repeat experience of the first bird with T tracking a running bird only to have it flush on the far side of a thick, tall fence row. I really wasn't worried about it, but felt bad for T - working so hard only to have nothing happen... Further down the same fence row, T got birdy, false-pointing a few times, and I happened to see a hen flush about 40 yards out, T completely unaware. I raised the gun, but decided, again, not to shoot. It flared at the end of the fence row and I decided to take T down there and see if we could find it. I don't know if it lit in a tree or what, but we couldn't get on any scent or find it. A short walk down the road, further away from the masses, we ducked down a sprinkler line and started hunting again. Thirty yards in, T locked on a solid point to my left. I worked toward him and a hen flushed about 15 yards in front of him. I had hoped to get shots at two roosters, but the point was so perfect, the flush so good, I raised the gun and fired the left barrel. The bird folded. T had a hard time finding it on the ground because it fell directly on an active sprinkler line. I finally ran in and got the bird, dodging the water. We got reset and started hunting again. While T worked to me left, I happened to see a rooster fly in and duck into the cover off to our right, behind us. I called T (probably off another bird) and we jumped in after this bird. T was on scent right away and started tracking this bird who was obviously running. We jumped two fencerows and I saw the damn bird running about 50 yards away. T tracked it and we jumped another fence row and started working the opposite direction. We probably tracked that bird 400 yards or so and at the end of a fence row, T finally got too close and bumped the bird up. No point, but he'd worked so hard to track that bird, stayed close the whole time, and bumped it up well within range that I raised, swung right to left and dropped the rooster. T was on him in a flash and after a few mouthfuls of feathers, picked the bird up and brought it back to me (well, within 5 feet). I unloaded the gun and started to wish Paul or Ben were with me so we could keep hunting.<br /><br />T locked on another solid point before we headed back to the car and we both watched as another rooster ran out of the cover, between T and I and away into the far cover. T was about as confused as a dog can be, waiting for me to shoot and having it never happen. I hate that. As soon as the bird was out of sight he dashed into the cover and bumped the bird up, cackling as it went. I called him off and we headed back to the car. Another hen flushed about halfway back; a number of guys walking around with empty vests.<br /><br />The hunting there has gone downhill significantly. There are only a few days where you can find birds before the army of half-assed hunters clears the place out. It fails to resemble anything like hunting any longer. It's sort of good to get the dogs out there, but the scent and the bird behavior is so far from natural that it may be somewhat counter productive. The cover, too, is so rough on the dogs and prevents good shots, that it's hardly worth hunting a majority of the property. I may head out there one more time, but I'll be hard pressed to invest much more time. Oh, and the ticks are thick. Pulled one out of my leg this morning...gross.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-81257153091941586122009-10-23T19:48:00.000-07:002009-10-23T19:49:44.747-07:00SurgeryI'm happy to be able to sit and type some good news. While cautious, we're optimistic.<br /><br />Porter went in mid-morning for surgery - didn't know what we'd find or if we could do anything about it, but it was our only chance at saving him. Was fairly convinced it wasn't going to be good, so I said my good-byes and held him as they administered the first round of sedatives. Not the easiest moment of the day.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZL5EKsICrrwhnxTQWtH_MBfoScAhNQm8peHjIgdSztwk_qImL8Nj0z3U956jVbH31brjMBmXNm8iGPUv9Mtjv4ZvgsAG2VV3zki-ieTEt6Fw1YvXuL5eV4qW2qDF2_oEXFnlKecCJU0/s1600-h/IMG00045.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZL5EKsICrrwhnxTQWtH_MBfoScAhNQm8peHjIgdSztwk_qImL8Nj0z3U956jVbH31brjMBmXNm8iGPUv9Mtjv4ZvgsAG2VV3zki-ieTEt6Fw1YvXuL5eV4qW2qDF2_oEXFnlKecCJU0/s400/IMG00045.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395993168326256162" /></a><br /><br />I figured if I was going to get a call that my dog was dead, I'd better be in the woods. I came home and packed up my Vizsla and the double and headed to some good cover. A little ways into the trek, we bumped a big, red-phase grouse. The cover was thick, the leaves changed, but all still hanging to the trees and all I saw was the tail go up. The gun swung and went off where I thought the bird should be. Mr. T. ran in and we recovered the bird. A grouse, for Porter. I thought, given the poetry of the situation, that Porter was done for. About ten minutes later, the phone rang from the vet. I knelt with the gun, T at my side, and got some much needed good news.<br /><br />What they found: two stomach ulcers, one healing, one actively bleeding. And big. This bigger, more problematic one was also in a hard to get to spot: the "back" of the stomach. While palpable, the ulcer could only be accessed by going into the stomach. But no cancer, no obstruction, no "whoknowswhat" that couldn't be addressed. Step one.<br /><br />What they did: the smaller ulcer was left alone as it was mostly healed and looked good. To address the larger one, they cut into his stomach, cleaned out food, grass, and some clotted blood. Through the stomach, they were unable to "cut out" the ulcer, but instead, sutured it shut and covered with hemostatic (sp?) gauze. They sewed him up and woke him up.<br /><br />How he reacted: His body temp was low following surgery so we spent a lot of time with a heating pad and blankets getting his temp up to normal. After his temp was up and he started to really wake up, he was groaning from the pain so pain meds were administered. This pretty much knocked him out and he slept, in and out, for 3 hours or so. He finally stood up, woke up (in that order), and pranced toward the door when asked "do you want to go outside?" Couldn't believe it. Got him some more pain meds and antibiotics before bringing him home. He walked out of the vets on his own and into the house although I lifted him in and out of the car.<br /><br />Where we're headed: if all goes well, he'll sleep through the night with some pee breaks and perhaps a sip or two of water. If possible, I'll get some dissolved antacids into him. Tomorrow we head back to the vet for a check-up and likely IV. If we're on track, he should be on some bland, solid food tomorrow evening (boiled rice and venison). Fingers crossed. We're probably not out of the serious woods until 48hrs or so have passed and he is back on the solid food, drinking water, and having normal bowls, etc. We'll be staying close over the next couple days.<br /><br />I'm 100% serious when I say this mojo stuff works. We were on a steady downhill beforehand. And regardless, it means a lot, for some odd reason, to know thoughts and positive energy are flowing. Thanks again. Hopefully, we'll continue down the road of recovery.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-50868938988218515062009-10-22T17:03:00.001-07:002009-10-22T17:14:29.058-07:00Porter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSeV_i9n9I0TEiBB5CyRi2MH6HueNqUw9AcusiknSOc9etGxa3Qo4aVEzEEjAlbqRU_tFAPzqBhDDp5-aLXkA5pxHH4NTDu_oeaxzSO28Pl6nguRHDDYz6j8OW4LXfpXhuPVJ5A1GPyVY/s1600-h/IMG00042.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSeV_i9n9I0TEiBB5CyRi2MH6HueNqUw9AcusiknSOc9etGxa3Qo4aVEzEEjAlbqRU_tFAPzqBhDDp5-aLXkA5pxHH4NTDu_oeaxzSO28Pl6nguRHDDYz6j8OW4LXfpXhuPVJ5A1GPyVY/s400/IMG00042.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395579616104224722" /></a><br /><br />Fuck. Just got back from dropping Porter off at the Emergency Vet Clinic in State College. What we thought was a bleeding ulcer didn't better after a couple days and Porter lost all appetite for food and water. His gums, eyes, and inside of ears were all very pale; almost white. Took him to the vet this morning. IV and antibiotics all day. Blood tests showed normal liver and kidney function, very low red blood cell count, very high white blood cell count, and no sign of tick-borne disease. X-rays showed that he was retaining a lot of food in his stomach despite not having eaten in a while. A barium series showed some sort of object in his upper bowel/lower stomach. Blood tests showed pancreatitis, which means a lack of enzymes to break down food. While he has no energy, he's still happy to see me and Libby and loving as ever.<br /><br />He'll spend the night tonight, get a blood transfusion followed by an ultrasound. Hopefully, the latter will give some indication as to what this mass is - the doctors are all puzzled currently. Barring metastasized cancer or a liver lesion, I think we'll be going into surgery in the morning. Regardless, the doctors are very guarded with their prognoses. He has lost a lot of blood and may not do well with all the required procedures.<br /><br />I'm sick to my stomach. Hope there is some answer to why this is happening. Really hope I don't have to bury my dog in the next week. Enough graves already.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-54440053250929572532009-10-19T07:24:00.000-07:002009-10-19T07:49:07.637-07:00Last Day; Browns<iframe width="425" height="350" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&source=s_d&saddr=Denver,+CO&daddr=Casper,+WY+to:Bozeman,+MT+to:Livingston,+MT+to:Bozeman,+Gallatin,+Montana+to:Dillon,+MT+to:Bozeman,+MT+to:Craig,+MT+to:Bozeman,+MT+to:West+Yellowstone,+MT+to:Jackson,+WY+to:Rock+Springs,+WY+to:Steamboat+Springs,+CO+to:Denver,+CO&hl=en&geocode=%3B%3B%3B%3BFQQTuQId_YBh-Sl7RNb_Gz5FUzEjmCASPallJQ%3B%3B%3B%3B%3B%3B%3B%3B%3B&mra=pe&mrcr=3,4&sll=43.736917,-108.979527&sspn=9.428861,23.269043&ie=UTF8&ll=43.736917,-108.979527&spn=9.428861,23.269043&output=embed"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&source=embed&saddr=Denver,+CO&daddr=Casper,+WY+to:Bozeman,+MT+to:Livingston,+MT+to:Bozeman,+Gallatin,+Montana+to:Dillon,+MT+to:Bozeman,+MT+to:Craig,+MT+to:Bozeman,+MT+to:West+Yellowstone,+MT+to:Jackson,+WY+to:Rock+Springs,+WY+to:Steamboat+Springs,+CO+to:Denver,+CO&hl=en&geocode=%3B%3B%3B%3BFQQTuQId_YBh-Sl7RNb_Gz5FUzEjmCASPallJQ%3B%3B%3B%3B%3B%3B%3B%3B%3B&mra=pe&mrcr=3,4&sll=43.736917,-108.979527&sspn=9.428861,23.269043&ie=UTF8&ll=43.736917,-108.979527&spn=9.428861,23.269043" style="color:#0000FF;text-align:left">View Larger Map</a></small><br /><br />Last day of fishing. Drove an hour and a half to Silverthorne and fished the Blue River with Chris. We were just upstream from Green Mountain Reservoir and in the middle of the White River National Forest. Interesting connections.<br /><br />The blue was crystal clear - we could easily see directly to the bottom of 10-15 foot pools. The fish could see well, too, spooking before casts were even made. I had fallen in first thing in the morning - a full on, shoulder deep dunk - so I didn't complain much when Chris suggested we bail and hit Clear Creek where the browns should be running. We packed up, hit Wendy's again (ugh), and drove 45 min to Clear Creek. Very odd place. Upstream from a small lake, loaded with browns, the stream runs right next to houses, roads, and a ski-resort further upstream. As Chris had warned, the scenery left a lot to be desired. But hell, we caught fish. A lot of them. Egg patterns of any color, little golden stoneflies, The Werm, and some PTs of various design all killed. It was probably a little unethical, fishing spawning browns, but it was hard to feel bad for such a disturbed stream. It was good practice to sight-fish individuals, watch how the fish examined flies and rejected or took. I was most surprised at how many fish tried to eat flies and simply failed - all those little bumps and tugs that result in no fish make a lot more sense now.<br /><br />It was good to fish with Chris, too. He takes his fishing very seriously and pays attention to every detail. He's getting ready to compete in nationals here in State College. He'll be staying with us Wed and Thursday nights this week while practicing. It should be good to see him and all the other professionals invade our home waters and show us how it's done. Or not?<br /><br />Spent the night at our hotel bar with martinis, steak, good wine, and bourbon. Travel was a bit rough, but we made it. Porter is a little underweight so I'll take some time to nurse him back to his full strength. Looking forward to getting him back in shape and getting both of them in the woods.<br /><br />Too many thoughts about this trip ending to do them justice now. Looking forward to processing some thoughts instead of just logging activities. Archery should be good for some quality thinking time.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-39818882639303477492009-10-17T06:47:00.001-07:002009-10-17T07:15:12.598-07:00Yampa, Steamboat SpringsHeaded into town this morning and ate at a little Diner. We've been striking out on good food and this place was no exception. Hit the fly shop afterwards for some RS2s and jujus then drove to the Mt. Werner parking area and jumped in the stream. In town here, the stream looks small, but has some very deep holes and islands creating side channels every so often. We decided to walk downstream from the car and were both immediately untangling stuff, losing flies, and tying on new leaders. Sometimes you're just not operating at 100%. <br /><br />Around the first bend, though, both Ben and I hooked into some nice rainbows - both on egg patterns. It slowed down a bit for a while and I decided to tie on a streamer and rip it through a long, slow, deep hole that bent around for a hundred yards or so. After a few minutes of stripping that egg-sucking leech through the water, BAM, a fish. A nice fish. Went on a few runs that peeled line from my reel. Ben came up to help net and that fish took off everytime Ben got close. Really nice to finally catch a nice fish on a streamer and really nice to catch a rainbow that big so early in the day. But that was it for the streamer activity. I stayed with it for about an hour, but Ben kept pulling in fish on his Czech nymph rig. I switched and immediately had two fish on, lost them. After regaining composure, I started paying attention a little more closely and pulled a few out of the same hole. The egg pattern kept working all day, so we barely changed it. I did find that a heavier front fly made keeping an eye on the leader a lot easier and also kept the leader tighter, making takes easier to feel/see. We basically walked downstream catching fish left and right. Sometime Ben was into them, sometimes I was. I don't think we had a double on the day, but damn close to it many times.<br /><br />At the bottom of a slow run, I spooked a huge rainbow. It looked like he darted downstream right behind a rock, so I stood there and took a few casts into the seams behind. After a couple casts the leader took off and I, finally, landed a nice brown trout. We came out here looking for these bruiser fish and besides the two big ones I had on and lost, we've been at a loss to find many browns at all. It was nice to see the bright yellow belly, red spots, huge, predatory mouth. Another couple casts and I nicked into a big rainbow - maybe the same one? He took off like a rocket downstream, through a spillway and was gone as fast as he was on my line. Damn.<br /><br />Ben and I split up and walked the side channels around an island that formed just below that hole. Ben walked quickly so while I was halfway down, he was coming back upstream on my side. We fished here for a while - I caught another brown, a few rainbows. We moved downstream and I took over a hole Ben had just left. I said, "You didn't catch anything out of here?" He said, "No, I know, it looks fishy..." I must have had a little more weight on than he, because within a few casts I had a rainbow on. He wasn't happy. He was about to get less happy. Two more casts and after a very subtle take, I raised my pole, felt a fish, and saw a huge, huge rainbow take off downstream. My initial reaction caused Ben to stop fishing and immediately walk upstream. Real big fish. Ben was downstream, net ready, and everytime that fish skirted him, he'd lean back, "Woah, man, he's huge!" He fought hard, but didn't cover much ground - we netted him just at the tail of the riffle I'd caught him in. Beautiful rainbow. I marked his length on my pole and took a few pictures before releasing him. Even as he swam away his size was impressive.<br /><br />I was a bit shaken after that and took my time before starting to fish again. I divyed up the rest of my egg patterns - they were obviously killing. We worked a little further downstream before turning back toward the car. Ben hooked into a very, very nice rainbow on another side channel. Huge fish, but looked sickly as hell - gross web-like markings all over the fish. Hardly wanted to touch the damn thing. After a few more fish we decided to jump out and just b-line for the car. It had been a good day, the first where I didn't need a coat or a winter hat. 60 degrees and sunny. It would have been nice to end the day with some dry fly action, but a damn good day nonetheless.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6UnjSwiI_7Q19aeDrMdAhyphenhyphenYcxDpAEuTgHAiAF-k_GREsd9Ornec1eZn2dw1xxAuUSbxeF7M9-ClyLGZN6XQMc89kKpq5vgkrI56-ylMV5Ce3Mx-35RBy9BmRdqnmNTd-yoIzHJw_xXSA/s1600-h/rainbow.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6UnjSwiI_7Q19aeDrMdAhyphenhyphenYcxDpAEuTgHAiAF-k_GREsd9Ornec1eZn2dw1xxAuUSbxeF7M9-ClyLGZN6XQMc89kKpq5vgkrI56-ylMV5Ce3Mx-35RBy9BmRdqnmNTd-yoIzHJw_xXSA/s400/rainbow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393565383066916866" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj772QhlKQCHQa6cTQR4HY5PWikNt_MkkgPlCVFyg31KxPbHlXmWVYwOhp6WMtig-dRG97KN2H4O-2PvwD-Lf7ouZgPZTkQ0sfmhIDJ06aPV-z3TH6NTQ28OP6ukXEvbQT7KKNDPsiu_-I/s1600-h/rainbow-release.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj772QhlKQCHQa6cTQR4HY5PWikNt_MkkgPlCVFyg31KxPbHlXmWVYwOhp6WMtig-dRG97KN2H4O-2PvwD-Lf7ouZgPZTkQ0sfmhIDJ06aPV-z3TH6NTQ28OP6ukXEvbQT7KKNDPsiu_-I/s400/rainbow-release.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393565390599524370" /></a>Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-5941233210683501082009-10-16T07:02:00.000-07:002009-10-16T07:17:40.725-07:00Yampa tailwater<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit07bwZSnIzormw_Ub88gMG8T1fJ0rCkZWhOmNY473_V4yb9qHkaHvzxM2TwwM-fpuOA-IX6o8cyd7YY3iwMa1qhlSna_UbyRdvnHjeDJPqJMlrxKSzupqWN61CM4Jm4CQ9QmXecP9rTY/s1600-h/zzz.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit07bwZSnIzormw_Ub88gMG8T1fJ0rCkZWhOmNY473_V4yb9qHkaHvzxM2TwwM-fpuOA-IX6o8cyd7YY3iwMa1qhlSna_UbyRdvnHjeDJPqJMlrxKSzupqWN61CM4Jm4CQ9QmXecP9rTY/s400/zzz.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393198226992786594" /></a><br /><br />With reports of snow from back home - a lot of it - we had some of our best weather of the trip yesterday, although it started out threatening to rain. After hitting Steamboat Fly Fishers and getting semi-turned around we hit the Yampa tailwater, right below the dam. Immediately saw big, beautiful rainbows in the river and went to work. One small one on a 20bwo. Then riggged up a weighted nymph system to float flies to some lunkers stationed at the bottom of a hole - one finally took a pt soft hackle, 18. Nice fish. Then I really started to concentrate on the larger fish sipping the surface on the far bank. After a while, I finally found the best way to drift to them and pulled 4 out on a size 18, gray bwo pattern. Thick fish with experienced jaws and bright red colors. Found it odd some would fight like hell, others seemed to know the drill and came to the net with hardly an objection. I like the fighters. Ben was frustrated at the beginning of the day - me at the end. He was pulling fish out at the end of the day left and right with nymphs. I don't think I caught one fish using anything but dries and that soft hackle. I did hook a real nice one on size 10 egg sucking leech I was ripping through the spoil at the foot of the dam. Still didn't fight too hard, though.<br />Strange water. Small with constant flow, crystal clear, loaded with fish, vegetation in spots, and fisherman around every corner. Not the opening day type of crowds you see in PA, but probably 10 guys on a 200 yrd section of stream. Couldn't walk downstream past a huge rock outcrop so we were all fishing the same water. Fish were everywhere, but very selective. Scenery was amazing - tucked in this steep canyon with golden grass, yellow poplars, and dark green spruce and fir. All it was missing was some elk.<br />Spent the night in the Tug Boat playing arcade games and pool. Met some guy who used to live in Bethel, VT of all places. Rounds were bought and consumed. Woke this morning to a picture from Paul of a tree down in their back yard. Their trees are big, yard small. I hope everyone is ok. Glad I'm missing the ridiculousness of mid-October snow storms in PA.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-82623704789715432832009-10-13T21:04:00.001-07:002009-10-13T22:07:38.269-07:00Snake River<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dLQ9WGwGdgA/StVcjhgCc1I/AAAAAAAAAOo/QizyVxrGjoI/s1600-h/release.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 391px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dLQ9WGwGdgA/StVcjhgCc1I/AAAAAAAAAOo/QizyVxrGjoI/s400/release.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392317894203962194" /></a><br /><br />October, 13, 2009. Spent last night on Noah's "L" couch playing footsies with Ben all night. Woke up early and hit a coffee shop so Ben could finish some work before we hit the stream. Light rain met us through warmer weather. The guide called and said we should get there as soon as possible due to the morning warmth. Seemed like a good sign... As we loaded the boat and got ready to push off the sun was cracking through the clouds and we couldn't help but anticipate a good day on the river. The fat, double-humpy, streamer-size dry flies the guide "Boots" was tying on just got us down right giddy. As has been the case, our expectations were hardly met.<br /><br />Ben and I had two fish on right away, I lost mine immediately and Ben lost his, a very nice cutthroat, after a long fight. I had another one on shortly after and, after a little fight, lost him, too. Damn. A few whitefish were caught. A couple small cutthroat, too. But most of the day was spent floating ridiculous dry flies down beautiful runs of water to no avail. The Tetons were shrouded in clouds, showers scattered the valley, and the water was gorgeous; steep runs dropping off into emerald green pools.<br /><br />Finally, at the end of the day, we started to catch some fish. Ben landed a nice 18" cutthroat, I caught one slightly smaller on a size 18 parachute bwo. Interesting fish - save for the first fish ben hooked into, the fish we caught had very little color to most of their body. The exception were the fins, which had turned a bright red/orange for the fall, and the orange slits on the underside of the gills.<br /><br />Kind of a disappointing day given our expectations at the start. Would have been nice to have a killer day on Ben's birthday and on such a famous river.<br /><br />We left and drove down Rt191 to Rock Springs for the evening. "Swine flue" kept us from staying with David. Tomorrow we'll finish the drive to Steamboat and set up shop for the final days of the trip.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-33490306306345087552009-10-13T07:28:00.000-07:002009-10-13T07:40:45.582-07:00Yellowstone, Teton<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f5/Grand_prismatic_spring.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 1999px; height: 1277px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f5/Grand_prismatic_spring.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Got up relatively early and hit the road. 191 south out of Bozeman through the Gallatin Gateway and canyon. Ridiculously gorgeous river meandering at the base of steep, tallused slopes. Doug fir and spruce trees covering everything but the steepest parts. The canyon opened up into a wide, brushy valley with no nothin'. Drove on to West Yellowstone. This time around it didn't seem as terribly commercial, but then again we didn't stop save for gas. Paid our $25 and headed into the park. Followed the Madison River behind slow cars, passengers searching for wildlife. Fist a coyote. Then a herd of elk, then bison. Wild to think how abundant these creatures used to be before we extirpated them and replaced them with cows. Interesting decision. Stopped at the Grand Prismatic Spring and Old Faithful (missed the eruption by 30min or so). Headed on south out of the park. The road wound its way up and over the continental divide while the snow fell. Ice and snow covered roads made for slow going. Soon enough, though, we exited the park, the sky cleared and off in the distance, the Tetons loomed. Sneaking glimpses through the trees we made our way down through muddy roads, under construction, toward the mountains. Ben must have taken 1000 photos - the northern view simply captures your imagination. Knowing that Noah has scaled most of those jagged peaks is pretty impressive.<br /><br />With the Tetons in the rearview mirror we headed into Jackson and on through to Wilson, WY and Noah's house. Ben did some work, we scheduled the float for the following day, and organized the house. Dinner at Q - ribs and chicken fried chicken. Shake-a-day, couple rounds, and IWTUIUWBMAD. Cops showed up to harrass the people smoking reefer on the deck. No one got in trouble. Headed out, gingerly, up the pass to crash on the couch. For Ben's birthday we float the Snake.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-46885425047048038762009-10-12T08:30:00.000-07:002009-10-12T08:40:45.768-07:00Lost day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.thebaxterhotel.com/images/Bacchus-Pub-Button.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 138px;" src="http://www.thebaxterhotel.com/images/Bacchus-Pub-Button.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Sat in Bacchus, an Irish pub in Bozeman, for a lot of hours yesterday. Boddingtons, Guiness, and The Mark. French onion soup, fish and chips, reuban, Red Sox knocked out, Pats lose, hung out with Pat, Vincent, Larkin, Jesse, met a guy from Fairbanks who owned land in Sullivan County, picked on some poor MSU student who looked 17, spent too much money, stayed too long, fell asleep around 10 back at holiday inn. Going to drive to Jackson, WY via Yellowstone today. Snake tomorrow, then Steamboat Springs for the remainder. Lots of thoughts swirling about where my head will be at upon return. Hope I can focus on writing and hunting until year's end.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-45794344090037662152009-10-11T09:33:00.000-07:002009-10-11T10:48:07.020-07:00The Missouri Lift<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYC4N67LKhfQG0_L2WtbRpDUJ98kXAN1jjkbtttVwcPEcZqT65bKkBbhyGFZ1ge5zQiR9L3jyT7RaPz7PSaixGAsIdxcXVHAGuXDyu_lrHU8AkubwF0E_SEZga_xlqOQskWSEdlAIZaDo/s1600-h/DSC_0424.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYC4N67LKhfQG0_L2WtbRpDUJ98kXAN1jjkbtttVwcPEcZqT65bKkBbhyGFZ1ge5zQiR9L3jyT7RaPz7PSaixGAsIdxcXVHAGuXDyu_lrHU8AkubwF0E_SEZga_xlqOQskWSEdlAIZaDo/s400/DSC_0424.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391399079058775522" /></a><br />Saturday, October 10, 2009.<br />Packed up the cabin early in the morning and, after a final look around to seal memories, headed north to Wolf Creek and the Missouri River. During my freshman or sophomore year at Juniata I'd ordered a tourism booklet from Montana and, eyes closed, dropped my finger on the map. Wolf Creek. Whether or not the fishing was good, this would be a good day to remember.<br /><br />Got off at the Wolf Creek exit on I-15 and headed to the Wolf Creek bridge over the Missouri. Just below Holter Dam, the river is wide, deep, and swirling. The temperature on the dash read 14 and the steam rolling off the river swirled in the wind. Faintly, but surely, we saw risers on the water. Randomly placed and inconsistent, but risers nonetheless. We stopped the car when we spooked two Golden Eagles off the river bank not 10 yards from the car. Ben snapped a few photos and we watched them perch in a tree on the far side of the river. An angry, defensive Magpie screeched complaints across the river to them. We drove to the dam and were convinced by the bitterly cold wind and the deep waters to drive back downstream and find a place to jump in. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyoR63xRGOJmBVKFolSIRHSmoecCoFrdZyr32SXYf3ekY1x0ftsYbb3DS0Wd-yKUvQZ8dfRYkqeyjCCGSOWjnipCuWi9KMwCGD_HMPdShuQBA1U1HIJikusqACqpWNnvPGzI7dt_csrDM/s1600-h/DSC_0341.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 389px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyoR63xRGOJmBVKFolSIRHSmoecCoFrdZyr32SXYf3ekY1x0ftsYbb3DS0Wd-yKUvQZ8dfRYkqeyjCCGSOWjnipCuWi9KMwCGD_HMPdShuQBA1U1HIJikusqACqpWNnvPGzI7dt_csrDM/s400/DSC_0341.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391399107412733330" /></a><br />Past the Wolf Creek bridge the valley opened up and an epic view, littered with mule deer filled the windshield. Bald eagles, golden eagles and other, unidentified hawks soared overhead. Ben's colleague Franklin Hall recommended the tips and tails of the few islands in the river. Sure enough, we stopped at a pull off and watched a massive pod of fish sip bwos and midges behind the closest island. A peregrin falcon cruised over the island, hunting. We suited up in the cold, cold weather and got in the water. Reminder: taking off your pants and socks in 14 degree weather should be avoided when possible.<br /><br />The fish proved to be elusive. A mink was crawling along the bank, through the tangle of a beaver hut. Paul took pictures at about 3 feet as the critter responded to my kiss-calls. Woodcock infested the island, flitting 100 yrds away when spooked. Coots cruised the river and dove for fish.<br /><br />Ben set up shop fishing downstream to the risers while Paul and I crossed the island and snuck downstream to attempt upstream casts. The fish quickly caught on and stopped rising. I stood watching, waiting for the fish to turn back on when I felt a familiar tug on my rod - fish on! And off, after a quick jump. Huh. Nice fish, bit while my flies were just hanging in the current. Huh. I think I can do that. I cast a few times across the current and slightly downstream letting the flies drift, catch, submerge, and hang before recasting. Nothing. Hm. Maybe a different fly. Tied on a Kaufman's stimulator size 10 and a size 20 black beauty dropper. A few casts later, flies submerged, the water erupted. As my pole rose to set the hook I saw a fish the size of my leg roll in the current, at least 20 inches of fish was visible and I never saw the head...or the tail. Monster, monster fish. That roll did something right for the fish because as soon as he was on he came off. I was dumbfounded. A few more dazed casts later I realized the damn fish had broke my Kaufman's stimulator hook in half, right at the start of the bend it snapped. WTF. The gods are toying with me now.<br /><br />We fished all day. Warming at the car twice. Once to drive back to the dam and try our luck in the wind. No luck. Frozen waders. The wind would freeze our waders around our legs like armor. Crazy. Sharp-tailed grouse and mule deer dotted the drive along the river. Back downstream past the bridge to Craig we jumped in and watched some risers along a rip-rap bank. Then we watched a guy and his dog in a canoe run over all those fish... F. At the car I said, "Why the hell have we been ignoring The Werm??" Tied it on with that Black Beauty behind. Second cast into the first riffle my line took off. Big fish. Reel screamed. I yelled "fish on" to Ben and Paul. Ben came down with a net to help, but as he got to the bank my line, still taught, stopped moving. I started swearing, cursing - thought the damn fish had snagged me on the bottom or in the carpet of weeds on the riverbed and swam off. Ben cut in quickly and told me he'd read about "The Missouri Lift." Apparently, these fish bury themselves in the weed beds and you have to lift them out before you can net them. In disbelief I reeled myself down to the fish and sure enough, lifted him right out of the weeds. Ben netted on the second try and his net was covered with vegetation, weeds spilling over dragging in the water. In the middle of them was a nice 20 inch, 3lb rainbow. Best fish of the trip so far (in the net). Yes. Mission accomplished. Caught a nice, fat trout near Wolf Creek, MT.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0phcwimraeOtRFfODie8C0cUs4or1-sZumCfCrhGPJhQqqHutlkH7nxgn3HuWKjlCFow8S4vGeZuuCwW0e58JpcoSrtS37FH7GMYM-PdVdKKkOSJHwjzh-TaaDXx0Xg8vJnainWmsFU/s1600-h/DSC_0380.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0phcwimraeOtRFfODie8C0cUs4or1-sZumCfCrhGPJhQqqHutlkH7nxgn3HuWKjlCFow8S4vGeZuuCwW0e58JpcoSrtS37FH7GMYM-PdVdKKkOSJHwjzh-TaaDXx0Xg8vJnainWmsFU/s400/DSC_0380.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391399098341603122" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitsSVuq1QOT5TdLfVHAs3LjFK0kjU0FQfJuhbPVmAr12e5xqhyr_-gwiK7P7zQ-oC9A2ZUNF1uIUMtvR1ehDZw4zyjMLVuuuOo31AgDYhfGAcdO2ELWv4zHKbHtwwSpGsgI9Z6_2TSwMI/s1600-h/DSC_0381.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitsSVuq1QOT5TdLfVHAs3LjFK0kjU0FQfJuhbPVmAr12e5xqhyr_-gwiK7P7zQ-oC9A2ZUNF1uIUMtvR1ehDZw4zyjMLVuuuOo31AgDYhfGAcdO2ELWv4zHKbHtwwSpGsgI9Z6_2TSwMI/s400/DSC_0381.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391399090315483218" /></a><br /><br />Fished the rest of the day and snapped photos of the surrounds. Geese, ducks, falcons, hawks, eagles, and mule deer surrounded us. Fish rose sporadically, enough to convince us to tie on size 20 and 22 dries, but not enough to allow themselves to get caught. The wind blew and the temperature dropped. Waders froze. Fingers and faces tingled, turning red, golden sunlight reflected on lenses. Breath froze and swung south in the wind. At sunset we headed back to the car and had a toast to our last day with Paul.<br /><br />Saw some very nice mule deer buck on the way out of the valley. A coyote sat, patiently waiting for dusk.<br /><br />Joined Franklin at his house and headed to Windbags for a huge prime rib, whiskey (about a 5oz pour), and strong IPAs. Toyed with Helena hearts at Big Dorothy's. Headed to Alto's, aka, "the tow." Nothin' doin. Walked home and chased mule deer down the streets of Helena. Woke early. Paul's borrowed travel rod wouldn't come apart. After calls to Orvis and repeated techniques the "behind the knee pull," recommended by the customer service agent, snapped the pole. Shit. Glad he was done fishing. Hopefully Orvis will honor their no-questions-asked lifetime warrenty...<br /><br />Drove back to Belgrade, coffee at a Rocky Mountain Roasting Co., dropped Paul at airport and spend time getting him on a different flight from Denver to Dulles - United canceled on him... Snow fell, blowing through the streets.<br /><br />Probably taking the day to rest, do work, and take a breath before jumping into our second full week. Hopefully the weather and the fishing will get better.<br /><br />The Missouri, Wolf Creek, and that lunker will continue calling.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFaLieLwxZYY3QOPd4glQ1TZ9psOmbHaphTjlImmtjlQEoA-OAB4NoUkzuJONoZsAvjaVqLACeCDF_Px0F7YQxCwVySWcquqR1HAetm75KhR0MATo8hTnK2A7eMl_ykenEYJ1Y3SNBeo4/s1600-h/DSC_0393.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFaLieLwxZYY3QOPd4glQ1TZ9psOmbHaphTjlImmtjlQEoA-OAB4NoUkzuJONoZsAvjaVqLACeCDF_Px0F7YQxCwVySWcquqR1HAetm75KhR0MATo8hTnK2A7eMl_ykenEYJ1Y3SNBeo4/s400/DSC_0393.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391399084765195154" /></a>Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-15262028361234149982009-10-11T09:09:00.000-07:002009-10-11T09:33:39.830-07:00East Gallatin UpdateThursday, October 9, 2009. After a night of heavy drinking upon return from the Big Hole, we got out on the famous East Gallatin around 12:00. A few pheasant roosters greeted our arrival and the scenery was unmatched; beautiful, meandering stream, grassy fields that seem to go on forever, and, in the distance, snowy mountains in all directions. We parked at Swamp Road bridge and after chatting with an old, wind worn guy in a rhino we headed down stream to where the guy at Fins and Feathers told us was the better nymphing water. Two holes down, we spread out and started to catch fish.<br /><br />I stood next to this deep, green water and tried to figure out where the fish were, what they might want to eat, and how to get it to them. I was throwing The Worm up front and changed my back fly a couple times - finally settled on a wet hackle PT, 18. The trick, however, was to get the right weight and depth. My goal was to tie on enough splitshot to get stuck on the bottom and then take one off. One split shot, nothing. Two, nothing. Three, FISH. I pulled three fish out of that hole, had a lot of bumps, and, in what turned into a disturbing trend for the day, had two others on (the biggest fish) but shake off.<br /><br />Following Ben and Paul I moved downstream. Ben was trying to cast size 20 bwo dries to rising fish on the far bank so I decided to hit the inside seam of the run. Casts upstream, slightly across, flies in line resulted in 5 more fish in the net and 4 or 5 more on and off again, including the biggest one from that hole, too.<br /><br />Headed downstream further and tossed my weighted rig into a wide, fast run near a pod of 20 rising fish. After a few casts the thingamabobber jerked under and I felt a nice, nice fish on the end of my line. A couple seconds later he shook off... I decided I needed to get a little deeper so I tied on a weighted streamer with The Werm behind it. First cast, BAM - again, nice fish. Again, shook off. GODDAMN!!!! This one jumped just to make sure I knew it was a big rainbow before coming loose. Anger. Fished a few bends, some very deep holes down stream. Ben and Paul kept hearing cock birds cackling in the fields - I always seemed to be next to a loud riffle, but did catch the tail end of one call. The hunting here would be disgusting. I would love to see Porter working hard through those countless acres of bird-filled grass...<br /><br />Paul was pulling a couple nice fish out of the most downstream riffle we fished, Ben and I lined up behind him. As I worked downstream I realized I was walking on the drop-off so I backed up, moved downstream a bit and cast back to it. First cast, fish. Big fish. Turned out to be a White Fish, but fought hard and more than filled the net. Another trout, slightly upstream had the count up to 9. Walked upstream with Paul and watched him pull a couple out of a seam to even the count. Game on.<br /><br />Tied on The Werm behind a large, 12, BH prince nymph. Caught two out of a tiny riffle that dropped off sideways into a run. Two, steely rainbows. The fish out of the Gallatin were unlike any rainbows I've ever caught. Smaller heads, thick in the middle, and with a cold, steel look. Apparently they have steel mouths, too, given how many Paul and I lost through the day. Ben and Paul walked up the bank behind me a jumped two cock birds who cackled and rose, one flying over my head, one flying away from the river. Gorgeous.<br /><br />Moved back upstream to where I'd caught 5 before and pulled 4 more out for 15 on the day. Probably lost close to that many as well. Frustrating to lose so many fish and so many nice fish. But the day was success and beautiful. Cold, about 27 on the day, a slight breeze and sun that finally gave way to clouds and a snowstorm. As we drove back to the cabin we watched wild clouds fill the valley, swirling, dropping snow in random, isolated places.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-68085834492317350832009-10-09T23:04:00.000-07:002009-10-09T23:10:26.184-07:00For the recordDenver, sandwiches, brewery - shepard's pid, beef roast<br />Casper, bar ribs, wings, turkey club<br />Bozeman Saturday, Gallatin, quesadilla, buffs, burger<br />Sunday, yack, Gallatin, beef stew<br />Monday, Madison, bison, strips<br />Tuesday, Yellowstone, beef stew hot tub<br />Wednesday, Beaverhead, Big Hole, Burger King, Blasted<br />Thursday, East Gallatin, sausage and beef rice<br />Friday, Gallatin, rainbow, brown, whitefish, zuchs and squash<br />Saturday, Missouri...Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-70383740340020726142009-10-09T19:33:00.001-07:002009-10-09T19:50:53.967-07:00Winter salvation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvROHCfNENqkkTpc8haODemsIjIehXXZ1e9-04IhJ0x6p6kWdJzaQ_4Dzbo25GilxOgo2NHnCRMc6Eu3UqaKSvl0c32EY7EzGQxFwpE4ym6Rd4kvLsuPBb9BviMPIG4-s3qEKQLM_kQo/s1600-h/IMG00030.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvROHCfNENqkkTpc8haODemsIjIehXXZ1e9-04IhJ0x6p6kWdJzaQ_4Dzbo25GilxOgo2NHnCRMc6Eu3UqaKSvl0c32EY7EzGQxFwpE4ym6Rd4kvLsuPBb9BviMPIG4-s3qEKQLM_kQo/s400/IMG00030.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390794106495651714" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpVDH7AKd6AHGqR9PtpVxqmYAa2dHRKziCa1dpkv2V4WbHjkPs3kYNXamhRLsoRQV52dF-44fbn9T8-hZ6lR64vqD-pl0lapWK9VI1fomyBCX7tmKbBg7q3dCkaRe5yr6xaesfk7j_Odw/s1600-h/IMG00029.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpVDH7AKd6AHGqR9PtpVxqmYAa2dHRKziCa1dpkv2V4WbHjkPs3kYNXamhRLsoRQV52dF-44fbn9T8-hZ6lR64vqD-pl0lapWK9VI1fomyBCX7tmKbBg7q3dCkaRe5yr6xaesfk7j_Odw/s400/IMG00029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390794099261904674" /></a><br /><br />A winter storm canceled our plans to travel to the Firehole today. Awoke to 6 inches of snow and counting. A steady 15-20mph wind was blowing sideways and temps were struggling to get into the 20s. We spent the morning tying flies, doing work, and cleaning up around the house. Around 1:00 Paul and I decided to brave the cold and hit the Gallatin. Ben had some work to finish up before joining us. Paul decided to cross in the most unfortunate spot and almost took a chilly dip. We headed up a side channel and started fishing. It was slow to start, but soon picked up. While my new black bugger was stuck on a snag, Paul got into a real nice brown. I netted and, as planned, he got put on the stringer for tonight's dinner. Paul ended up with a few more fish on as well, but lost them. Finally he hooked into a nice whitefish and we added it to the stringer. I pulled one out of the same hole, too and the count for dinner was up to three. Ben had joined us by now and hooked into a beautiful rainbow, just a touch longer than Paul's brown. I decided to head back downstream to a deep hole that had proved frustrating earlier. The flow into this pool was fast, the drop off deep and although it looked fishy, I'd only caught a couple small fish out of it over the two past days we'd fished there. I knew there were bigger fish on the bottom it was just a matter of getting the drift and weight right. I played with my set up for a while - added weight, raised the indicator - and cast to get a drift into the small, swirling seam between the fast water and the eddy. When I finally got everything right, a beautiful rainbow took my fly. It was one of the most satisfying fish I've ever caught. Another rainbow and three big whitefish followed. It felt amazing to have turned this crappy day into a success. The snow blew, the cold seeped into our feet, but we were out there and caught a bunch of beautiful fish - some of the biggest fish yet besides the lunkers that came out of the yellowstone.<br /><br />Tonight is supposed to get down to -5F. It's our last night in this house. We're cooking up fish, doing wash, and packing. Tomorrow we head north to the Missouri river in Craig, MT. The forecast is for 28-ish, cloudy, and calm. With the increased temps from the tailwater of the Missouri we should get into some fish. While I'm not happy about leaving this house, I'm looking forward to the day.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-50312462132709350662009-10-07T20:34:00.000-07:002009-10-07T21:02:18.685-07:00Oct. 7, 2009 - Beaverhead and Bighole<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3xsV76gLNbOSxsPQpzgZlK-WuAT4DbL1QziB83wKqLA9OsL4q2DHOxgAS_BfPqCbIgwilPbU_gp4oqw4IFpbz6KNzOv_jPUcJRNc-2g-g9M18ENBgPH7oc0uzsbAT6NEq7_l61OU-rs/s1600-h/IMG00028.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3xsV76gLNbOSxsPQpzgZlK-WuAT4DbL1QziB83wKqLA9OsL4q2DHOxgAS_BfPqCbIgwilPbU_gp4oqw4IFpbz6KNzOv_jPUcJRNc-2g-g9M18ENBgPH7oc0uzsbAT6NEq7_l61OU-rs/s400/IMG00028.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390068080316745346" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJvfgTZxUBHCCU6d_KYUGWB1Cr7cgPXTOrtLa40PrMqSVdGAWbzBad-YCHv4YsLwg2JiD3RpYVC9xTd8t2IEGC8-r06FZf8BZNhumgnL4Pv7LGXi_PwPc8SNWLgW30lc3pXnNUfICI1I/s1600-h/IMG00027.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 336px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJvfgTZxUBHCCU6d_KYUGWB1Cr7cgPXTOrtLa40PrMqSVdGAWbzBad-YCHv4YsLwg2JiD3RpYVC9xTd8t2IEGC8-r06FZf8BZNhumgnL4Pv7LGXi_PwPc8SNWLgW30lc3pXnNUfICI1I/s400/IMG00027.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390068074875526258" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqEZx9oIb5C6WCpnT5dlfFblRp5Q05P1B0pgLTSvzEYZPyQlEL99AFLWcF5jGlzdCmmgg-CvQk4My1degBYshChC5UavB4RNYPDRUqt3l5NHou_yDGT8TlvdDr4i48OHtgD5CVmjkymJQ/s1600-h/IMG00026.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 336px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqEZx9oIb5C6WCpnT5dlfFblRp5Q05P1B0pgLTSvzEYZPyQlEL99AFLWcF5jGlzdCmmgg-CvQk4My1degBYshChC5UavB4RNYPDRUqt3l5NHou_yDGT8TlvdDr4i48OHtgD5CVmjkymJQ/s400/IMG00026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390068065339960354" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH3Jy2KZNElYkf9pUMDT833rPXSvaj0X0kWNEmaN7KtnOQReIogVoVe3xz3T9co5enePHiEZ9fUZihBnxzt0QnzLpOajI2aYM1uSQi9wQI-UwjfzQMvoQr0C7PxmrRB08HhrSVKnwyD6A/s1600-h/IMG00025.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH3Jy2KZNElYkf9pUMDT833rPXSvaj0X0kWNEmaN7KtnOQReIogVoVe3xz3T9co5enePHiEZ9fUZihBnxzt0QnzLpOajI2aYM1uSQi9wQI-UwjfzQMvoQr0C7PxmrRB08HhrSVKnwyD6A/s400/IMG00025.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390068058195998274" /></a><br /><br />On Peter Vandegrift's recommendation we got out of the house early this morning and headed 2hrs west to the Beaverhead outside of Dillan. Henneberry fishing access was supposed to be a good access point for wading, but the whole river was a slues. Heavy vegetation on the bottom made for almost impossible nymphing. Floating is about the only way to access this part of the river. Ben and I caught a few tiny browns on 18 BWO dries, and I had another 10-11" brown on a lightening bug. As the snow was starting to drive, we bailed and decided to head back to Melrose and jump on the Bighole. It was cold, snowing, windy and we were a bit pissed at the conditions of the Beaverhead after having driven all the way there, but we were determined to fish the rest of the day. We bundled up and headed out. 5 minutes into our walk downstream we saw two immature bull moose, one with a small rack, the other with just buttons. We watched them on the bank for a while before heading downstream to fish.<br /><br />On the corner of the first riffle I hooked into a fish on my second cast. After running a few feet downstream the fish rolled and showed me I was dealing with a large brown. Unfortunately I didn't have him hooked very well and while he sat in the slow water my fly came unhooked. I came a bit unglued. It was appropriate for the day. Luckily, the day turned around a bit, despite icing eyes and wind burnt faces. I caught a couple rainbows, 9" and 11", the larger while taking another picture of the two moose still hanging out on the bank. Paul caught a bunch of nice whitefish (four), a 12" rainbow, and a beautiful 9" grayling. The grayling ate a caddis nymph despite water temps hovering just below 40 degrees. Ben fell in near the edge and had a soaking arm - not the best day to do so with blowing wind and snow, but he ended up hooking into a great 16" brown on the last cast of the day. After being fairly skunked all day, I'm pretty sure he kissed that fish before letting it go. It was good to salvage a good afternoon out of such a crappy start. To add to the good finish, we watched a good sized bull moose with a nice rack walk through the alder lined stream on the drive out from Maindenrock access point. He jumped fences with ease and moved effortlessly through the tangled underbrush. Amazing creature - we felt blessed to just watch him if only for a few minutes.<br /><br />It has been good to get into a rhythm of fishing. The gear all has a place in my mind and all the small details that often require too much attention are becoming second nature. We've all improved at reading water, maximizing drift, and efficiently setting up our rigs. The Tahoe has become our gear vehicle and it's good to drive, waders on, with pole tips resting on the dash, reels lined on the backs of the back seat, wading gear in its place. The body, too, is getting used to this cold, snowy weather. Even with mid-30 temps and 20 mph winds and snow we are staying comfortable and fishing with relative ease. Hopefully, though, the water temps will rise over the next few days and the fish will become more active. Tomorrow we hit the East Gallatin.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-60526128200183202562009-10-06T21:23:00.000-07:002009-10-06T21:32:10.529-07:00Oct. 6, 2009 - Yellowstone Float<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbOiIj54KPU4rbx3oGa_ffPj8_qxRu7WGRf085WXQhZ5dYI1igmA4uEzI5OxnSppyONsDMsb_Prh_qUqQ1WJccW0JYPGH44UOcNE7_rs6wsuheTTlYh3-nFHZF4Mz-0c_EMDgIf2-y7b0/s1600-h/IMG00024.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbOiIj54KPU4rbx3oGa_ffPj8_qxRu7WGRf085WXQhZ5dYI1igmA4uEzI5OxnSppyONsDMsb_Prh_qUqQ1WJccW0JYPGH44UOcNE7_rs6wsuheTTlYh3-nFHZF4Mz-0c_EMDgIf2-y7b0/s400/IMG00024.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389711175434312578" /></a><br />Woke this morning at 6:30 and made a big breakfast with leftover bison and steak to keep us powered up through today's float of the Yellowstone. Any description I muster up will not do the day justice. It was mostly sunny, with a supposed high of 50, and winds steady at 15-25 MPH. Brutal on the casting, but we caught fish despite. I started out wading while Ben and Paul helped Peter get the boat set up and started upstream. From my place on a side channel near a "tributary," I caught 3 rainbows, 9-12" on a black bh zebra midge dropped behind a parachute adams. Had 3 others on, too. Once they figured out the game and stopped biting, I walked downstream to see what I could fish while waiting for the boat to arrive. nothing of interest awaited me, so I headed back up to where Corn Creek dumped in and changed my rig - indicator with "the worm" and the zebra midge. Only a couple casts in I landed a nice 16" rainbow. Fought like a champ, too. The boat had just arrive so I hopped in a started the float.<br /><br />I have much more to say about this day, but my eyes are closing and I'm exhausted. We're getting up early to drive to the Beaverhead and fish some warmer water tomorrow. I'll fill in the details later, but all three of us hooked into some beautiful fish today and despite the constant distraction of catching whitefish all day, had beautiful scenery and a great day in a drift boat.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-44641885383408815632009-10-05T22:59:00.000-07:002009-10-05T23:11:38.887-07:00Oct. 5, 2009<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrOCWVAtUn-8pjIEUGadV86KPgLPwEKN33my5qYPovjsrV3BSjDgMohG_nDU66e_xazTsmGXmSetV1Qpw8e4l7sfIFuRTb69TEUH1saPGohjmBhEfugDvgd_59gRZG5UO0yIfARN1608/s1600-h/IMG00022.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrOCWVAtUn-8pjIEUGadV86KPgLPwEKN33my5qYPovjsrV3BSjDgMohG_nDU66e_xazTsmGXmSetV1Qpw8e4l7sfIFuRTb69TEUH1saPGohjmBhEfugDvgd_59gRZG5UO0yIfARN1608/s400/IMG00022.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389363432916185090" /></a><br /><br />Woke up this morning to a few inches of snow covering everything. Snowed throughout the morning. Ben had a lot of work to do, so Paul and I tied flies until noon before the three of us headed out to the Madison River. On recommendation from Peter Vandergrift we headed up to Bear Trap Wilderness Area and jumped in to some good looking riffles and pools. Rainbows were on the menu. Paul caught one right away. Ben soon followed. The river was big, wide, and looked super fishy. But the wading was tough and really the first time we've fished a river of this size. Not sure if the weather was the biggest factor or our strategy, but the fish were few and far between. Paul caught one more and I managed to pull two out of one seam and hooked another, but didn't land it. A few beautiful fish, but nothing more than 15". We're in the mood for some big fish.<br /><br />Cooked up some bison for dinner - didn't know what to expect and was very pleasantly surprised. Wicked good. Hit the hot tub for an hour or so after dinner. Rolled in the snow halfway through to break things up. Loved it. Beautiful sky with stars poking intermittently through the overcast sky. Hopefully the haloed moon brings good luck for tomorrow. We're meeting Peter at 9:00AM to float the Yellowstone. "Let's go catch some big fish" was the last thing Pete said to me before cell service cut out. Let's hope he's right. Should be a beautiful day - first in a while - and we're looking forward to a full day on the river.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661678420492213099.post-45662957210024584692009-10-04T18:48:00.000-07:002009-10-04T18:56:14.394-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://cinitalmija.com/catalog/wp-content/uploads/2008/11/4bulls.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://cinitalmija.com/catalog/wp-content/uploads/2008/11/4bulls.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Finally bought real food to stock the kitchen. It's been too long. Local beef, sausage, bacon, and bison to start. Turned some of the beef into Trout Slayer Stew (Patent Pending). It'll do a body good. Can't wait to come back in from the stream and snow to a cup tomorrow. In the meantime, we're settling for a Sunday night Steelers game (whooping up on the Chargers) and the smell of stew.Alex Metcalfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844027937109465712noreply@blogger.com0