Thinking still

The water here sucks right now to put it politely as I care to. Off the ranch and back on staff again after a few weeks away and I'm creeping around the upper reaches of a few tribs with every other guide in our valley. With the right explanation, description and gear a crikin trip can satisfy any ones wants and wishes here in the Rockies. Hell the people I had today thought they were going to our private water. Pretty sure the Minturn Anglers whirly bird is still in the shop and that's the only way any ones guiding that place right now. Either way these people never gave a second thought to the private water after they saw the place. It's a necessary time to be in the headwaters but an enjoyable time never the less. For someone who spends so much time on a boat seat in the bottom of the valley, it's especially nice to enjoy the view.

At basically the same elevation are some incredible lakes just recently becoming open water again. I'd like to give some credit to my little boat captain for my interest in stillwaters. It's been a safe, fun place to float with an infant and I've learned a few things without a book or a mentor. Ms Whitey would have killed me if i put him on moving water before this summer any how. It's been fun already messing with the "no drag zone". Even though nothings lit up just yet, it's been fun being there; no ones been skunked if that's what your thinking.. I got to float a very special Loch on Saturday and Sunday with J Knight; Loch Nottingham, downtown Avon. We fished a bit and tested his drogue system on Saturday and he hosted a Loch style tourny as a prelim to his Americas Cup this September on Sunday. Check out theamericacup.com for more info, Its a cool event with international players, national teams, youth teams and adaptive teams. This year will have 2 Loch beats along with the usual incredible river venues so we have been thinking still alittle more lately. I'm really not sure why some people look down their nose when it comes to puddle fishing or why I don't have clients interested. Sure I get it, your in the Colorado mountains so you want a river or maybe a crik. What could be wrong with a clear water situation with hungry fish this time of year. No drag, minimal current, maybe some wind......buy a drogue. When your bored of watching your dry dropper rig sit equally as bored, just strip it over slowly, that's how they are going to eat it anyways. Loch on!

Guide house meal of the week: Stuffed Poblano Peppers, no lie. Credit to Thompson, I'm still grilling frozen chicken breasts from a bag.

Room for rent by the way. Before anyone farted, the happy couple moved out. 24 hours is going to be hard number to beat.

Definition of the week: Crikin: Fishing a teeny rod on a two to four step body of moving water for little Timmy.

Mexican Pasta

It's been a busy few months, I apologize Uncle Jerry.

Made the move from Eagle to Minturn to over see guide house summer 11. I like to call it 3 1/2 men, a lady and 3 dogs. This could be a TV show let alone a blog. The official over and under before i get the talk from Ms Whitey is 5 weeks when I am sure Sam will have learned a few new words.I am sure there will be more to this story with Capt Craig, Scott, Lauren, Sam, Me and 3 dogs, but dinner the other night got me to thinking. Rather than document all the craziness i decided to chronicle the journey through the recipes that grace our big log kitchen table and who might be there. Scott the Scott (as in Scottish), prepared me the tastiest Italian red sauce, with Mexican chorizo from a hot wok. It was delicious even though it broke every law of Italian cooking. I know a few little ladies back east that would castrate him for putting the garlic into anything first. Regardless, delicious even if he does need to see a witch doctor. The boy allegedly likes to cook so there may be more coming from the big fella.

I am currently on a world class streak as far as the fishing goes.....yes even during run off. I have made 25 casts in the last 6 weeks and hooked a fish on every one. I've lost 3 I'll be honest. Every river I know and love looks like a chocolate shake, a very fast and angry chocolate shake. I have been  very fortunate to have been working at the Round up River Ranch out on the Colorado the last 6 weeks or so. Swinging a hammer has felt nice and the location isnt bad. I have watched the Big Mud swallow up our newly constructed Archery Range and flirt with 18,000 cfs. The coolest projects have been the 2 docks we have built for the kids to enjoy some boating and fishing. Brand new state of the art trout and boating lake complete with a brand new batch of Kamloops. That should explain my streak....I'm not that good. All dry flies, just sayin.

Guiding seems along way off with as much water/ snow as we have. The color isnt horrible but one false step and you are in Glenwood. Floated Sylvan the other day, I guess that should count against my cast count now that I think of it. Everyone is trying to gear up for some stillwater stuff which I think is going to be very cool. I'll just sit and think about my Aunt Patience, she's gonna see that i'm floating the Eagle in early September. I can hold my breath a little longer for that.

Had a great visit to camp Kitty in the beginning of the month. My 10 year old dog has just moved for the 10th time. My 3 year old best friend stopped pissing and shitting himself. My vise is set up and actually running, thinking big, ugly and rubber legged. It's coming this spring man....Jmacs Girdle. Hockey playoffs, Ncaa Lax tourny all nice run off events. Had a VERY nice last minute trip to Montana and the Bighorn.....enough said.There is a coat of arms holding our rods on the porch of a quiet little peaceful guide house in Minturn. Good night John Boy, pass the chorizo Scott.

Definition of the week : Free fish: A Zimmism, a narrow fast moving channel of goodness where the angler casts where he or she feels best.

Fish don't spawn after 3pm

As I sit here watching Thomas the Train with my spawn I am reminded how complicated this procreation process can be. I am so thankful for him and that no one came by daily and jumped up and down on Ms Whiteys belly while he was still in there. While I'm pretty sure fish don't have a connection to their offspring like we do, they seem to work awful hard to keep their genetics going. So why is it that every spring I see anglers standing in the middle of spawning redds fishing to Rainbows busy doing things other than eating? Is it really any different than handing your kids mother to be a crack pipe or putting dirt on her breakfast cereal?

On a spring float down the Eagle last year we approached a section of river with a well known spawning area and sure enough there was a dude trying to force feed his junk to fish in the nursery. I'm not one to throw rocks or play policeman but I think I had some hops in me and couldn't resist saying something. Joe and I still laugh about the response we got. After we explained that "only douche bags fish to spawners", ol Doc Kavorkian looked down at his watch and explained that they were done for the day. I learn something everyday and I still look for him this time of year after 3:15.

I know, sometimes it's hard to find fish to throw to, especially here on the Eagle. A spot of clean gravel the size of a VW makes it a whole lot easier for someone who didn't read chapter 2; Reading water. If you need to sight fish go to a tailwater, but they spawn there also. It's one thing to have some out of towner standing in a bowl of caviar it's another thing all together to see a local or some new guide doing it. If you care, you need to say something in an effort to educate certain people, some guys just don't know any better.



The Brown trout in the fall have a huge advantage when they have their yearly nooky, the event is not followed by run off. These poor Rainbows which we all cherish here go about the rigorous and exhausting act of courtship and fertilization only to have a hurricane of water and silt blow through their kids bed room as soon as they are done. Why make the process any harder? If you really need to catch a fish that bad all you have to do is slide 40 feet down stream of the redd and you'll find all the eager fish you will ever want. But if you are on your way home from the dispensary after picking up your pregnant wife's "medicine" and you cant resist, just make sure it's after 3:15.

My new grand-daddy has eight fingers

I stood in front of 30 or so people at Gander Mountain in Denver Thursday night, speaking on behalf of my favorite river, THE Eagle. I believed everything I said but Its fishing after all....anything can happen. So as I finished my 16 hour day with a drive back up the hill to an elevation my clogged sinuses could handle I wondered if I promised too much. We floated the Eagle several times this week at very low water and It was magic. Of course I had some real talent on the rod in JMac, that always makes a difference. It's a team thing in low water and my boy has honestly become an incredible oars man on what alot of people call the hardest row in the state, he put me all over fish. I watched him and my boat pass me twice yesterday as I did a full day wade, the boy bores as easy as me. You can read Joe's sales pitch on this very special pre run off season at laterallinemedia.com.

My faith in the Eagle was confirmed yesterday on a full day assault with my client Bruce from Denver. He has heard the word (at the fly fishing shows in January) and this fine angler booked a trip to find out for himself. We pounded about 2 miles of river in 10 hours and I know Bruce would tell you he was not disappointed. I'm not a fish counter but we put up a very big number with several fish displaying a girth that would make a porn star blush. My girl showed her true colors for us, even surrendering a huge Rainbow well over the 20" mark late in the day that I rudely dropped before a picture could be taken. At the end of the day I asked him to spread the word amongst all his fishing buddies and he was hesitant. "Maybe i should keep this quiet" he said. Hopefully I changed his mind when I explained I have diapers to buy, but I understand where he was coming from.

Not sure what to stare at here, that pretty Eagle river Bow or Bruce's hand built Sage XP with a cool Gary Borger reel.

All in all it was a great week on my home river. The Rattlesnake inked a deal for a private take out with an 8 fingered man effectively solving my gas price issue. No more doubles on the Colorado while the water here lasts. An old proven pattern that hasn't worked for the last couple of years decided to pay some bills all of a sudden.....thanks, I had faith you would be back. I found a tattoo artist willing to barter, decided it's time to move and beat the cold my boy Sam gave me. Of course the fact my streamer rod has been getting used does not suck either.

Definition of the month:

Dropping Bombs: Long range casting, a distance not comfortable for someone who can't mend, A Sam fart.

Hand to hand combat: Short range target casting often involving radical freelance casting to pockets the size of a couch pillow.

Where's your water come from?

On the bright side, shallow water Largemouth fishing on the Upper Colorado would be easier.

A Buddist's tapered leader

I believe I have gained insight about what it's like to be a Green Bell Pepper. No my devout connection to our good mother earth has not entered a new level, I have not added another quarter. Just seems to me like there is a lack of emphasis on good old faith, instinct and ancient teachings these days. Data is "easier" to collect and store, shit I witnessed it being done with an app on a phone the other day. That day turned out to be 2 hours of insane fishing to boilihg trout, one rod, two fisherman, lots of fun. Ironically I saw no post fishing key board activity, there must have been faith that memory would serve. Where, when, who, hatch, temps, tip, did lunch suck, etc. Old school "journal" that fits in your pocket and beeps at ya, fishing reports at your finger tips. I have not contracted "technological evolution difficulty syndrome", I dig it, data rules the world, I'm just more of a flip phone guy..

 I've seen the stomach pump in and around the shop for about a year now,  I actually own one, still in the package  from Panorama Outfitters back in 1989. The political or maybe religious discussion quietly bounced around the huddle of guides last summer; would a stomach pump make me a better guide? It certainly gives you fresh data with a side of proof, but at what cost? Maybe it's a past life heavily influenced by PETA, but I just figured that doesn't look pleasant; especially after the merciless half drowning by a low rod angle and 3X. The little beast worked hard fighting you and for that tiny larvae dinner let her swim away with a little pride.

Buddhism and blind faith is chapter 5 in the manual. Listen to your teachers, they own the noble truth. The wise sage of six casts an hour, the early years fundamentalist, the observer, the know it all and the minimalist are a few characters of worth on the path. A wise yet ridiculous fly pattern at the all together wrong time of year is a gift that may appear in words and give reward for years based on how you treat the secret. Separation of mind and thought in an effort to simplify the process has historically meant, get a good drift. Any info your collecting from the gullet of some unsuspecting fish can be actually viewed while "alive", in the water, air and bank side foliage. Unfortunately collecting data in that manner would require long slow breaths, patience, and concentration all of which cost you blind casting time. Who we have learned from, where we have learned, how we learned become more important than why we learned in games like fly fishing. If you are"aware" there is a connection to our surroundings that stays with us to be used again, all without being recorded to a devise, answers will come naturally.

A good old school Prince or Pheasant Tail still works but data and thirst for solutions have lead to must have hybrids of the same fly. The original data was good, but change happens always, there is no stopping or controlling that. Purple flash butt wiggle prince works great too as long as its drifting right. How we continually connect with the organic matter around us determines the severity of our journey to contentment in this sport. Its funny how experience and  attention has crossed paths with the quick burn of technology. Kind of like the bell pepper. Has anyone but me noticed the quick fall from grace the bitter Green Bell Pepper has made. Why go green when you can get some quick heat from a hybrid hottie instead. Think about it next time you go to your black berry for a fly selection and it says pink flash prince with rubber legs and a dash of jalapeno.

Definition of the month:

Junk: your flies or rig; hopefully not a discription of your drift, the stuff you stashed under my rain jacket before our float.

Credit Nick Williams for these 2 great photos from a few winters back. Still one of the best in the business with a camera and he's holding a few from a recent trip to the Yampa.

As of late

My apologies to the two of you who read this. I have not been a good blogger lately. It's been quite a month, and it had nothing to do with an orange jump suit.

The old computer dinosaur finally died which hindered my blogging and dropped stock in a few porn sites. Many many thanks to John Knight for furnishing me with a new one for an exceptional price, flies. No I cant just steal a handful a week from the shop, he wants the custom top secret variety for his upcoming summer of competitive fly fishing. He's probably screwed but I'm back on line.

Things have gotten very busy around the ol fly shop and I have been doing floats on the Roaring Fork almost daily for the last 3 weeks. Believe me or not, the fishing has been off the hook. Rank beginners, kids and even drunk fly shop owners have been sticking Fork piggies. The water has begun to stain a bit below the Crystal River but that has only seemed to make things better. At least I've been able to put my 6x away.

A very loud shout out to Outcast boats! I am a terrible rower so I have always felt that my baby was one tough ship, but apparently they make them strong enough to drag down the highway. On my way to pick up my regular March clients Ms Shay and her husband Lenny my boat became dislodged from its cradle. Luckily the tattered winch strap which should have been replaced 3 years ago is rated for 78 mph. I dragged my girl a few hundred yards, much to the dismay of the rush hour traffic around me and she survived to float again. Funny enough I credit Mag Chloride. There was enough of the crap on the road to protect the bottom of the raft and when I leaned underneath her at the Wolcott exit for a heart pounding inspection I scraped a nice 1/2 inch layer from the hot rubber. Thank you to the fine people at the DOT.

We shot an episode of  "Fishful Thinker" for the Altitude network in early March on the Roaring Fork. My open mind was running in circles in preparation for having a gear guy in the boat on top of some of my favorite employees. The dinner conversation was a bit tense when the demand of cutting trebles from 7" swim baits came up but the Makers Mark helped.....alot. I honestly did not realize they don't swim or sink right when you cut that many hooks off, it didnt matter, he caught a bunch. The host Chad and his camera guy turned out to be great guys and Chad can honestly chuck a chunk of gear in any spot you ask. Their dull knife was a welcome addition to the tying session even if I was not allowed to touch it. They ended up very happy that my boy Scott Thompson was able to catch so many fish. I guess he has tried to film the "Fly Guy" vs the "Gear guy" episode quite a few times and the Fly dude never does that well. My friend Scott represented the fly fishing community extremely well. Look for my bad rowing, poor decision making, buff covered melon on Altitude the morning of March 26th. And No, Outdoor Television does not pay very well, they did tip nicely though.......Thanks Chad and Tim.

So my Mom is in town this week to see her Grandson Sam. She doesn't get to see him as much as either would like, so when she is here the education is constant, fast and furious. The potty training  lessons started in the airport, god love Grandma B. So as a distraction and a way to get the young prodigy to take a nap I suggested we take a drive to the upper Colorado so I might check the water for another option in the days to come. The water looked great, clean and clear, free of ice and 39 degrees. The unusually deserted put in at Pump House offered me a perfect opportunity to again teach my young son the joys of relieving himself in the great outdoors. Unfortunately during my manly right I sharted, I'm sorry, I shit my pants, right there in the bushes next to the river I love, in front of my mother and young son. Who needs the potty training? I could only imagine the shuttle driver or the DOW driving down and seeing me buck naked while learning first hand how soothing those baby wipes actually are.
I've been busy as of late.

Yes Zim, pictures of people holding their rods in their mouth bug me, but I don't like the taste of cork unless it has something to do with red wine. I also just admitted that I shit my pants so who's gonna listen to me.

Definition of the month: In honor of the pro football mess.
Occasionally when arriving back from a trip other guides will ask how your peeps did. We or I have developed 2 teams.

AFC Team: Awesome Fucking Chances

NFC Team: No Fucking Chance