Last week we had been having some quasi-shitty weather, nothing new for Montana. I had been on a couple of solo outings and decided that my continuous trout road-trippin buddy needed to get his ass off the couch and go fishing. I called him and told him that one day inparticular looked somewhat promising, no snow forecast and a high above freezing, what more could we ask for, right?
After some serious prodding and griefing Brooks reluctantly agreed to go. I loaded up the mpg-friendly camry for the trip to Missoula to pick up Brooks and head down the Bitterroot. The bright spot came early on this trip when we turned off the highway into an empty fishing access parking lot. It would all go downhill from there, literally and figuratively.
After gearing up we weren't 5 minutes into the half hour hike to the river when Brooks slid down a steep embankment and promptly punched a hole in the boot of his bootfoot waders.
Once our shit was rigged (i should probably not just use parentheses here because this little diatribe may become somewhat lengthy but what the hell-here goes. I chose to go with a streamer out of the gates and Brooks went directly for the bullshit go-to setup of a turd and a worm. I chose a streamer not just because of some recent success on this trip but because I can be somewhat of a stubborn bastard. On the way to pick up Brooks I stopped by an unnamed fly shop in Missoula. Don't get me wrong, this is a first class operation with friendly and knowledgeable employees. But for whatever reason on this day the combination of whiny voice and overall douchiness of the guy working the shop that day chafed my ass to the point that I was going to fish a streamer, hence my stubborness.) Anyway like I was saying, once our shit was rigged we weren't in the river a minute when Brooks realized the extent of the damage to his waders. The dialogue went roughly like this "holy shit Craig, water is pouring into my waders!" "just hike up the skirt and fish sally" "I don't know how long I can last" "for fuck's sake nancy, nut up!"
This went on for roughly half an hour with Brooks in and out of the water a half a dozen times. When I finally watched him pour the water out of his boots and with the weather taking a turn for the worse we decided to call it a day. Cabin fever can get pretty bad around these parts this time of year.
Oh yeah, once back at the parking lot Brooks and a guest gave us this gem of a report...... Enjoy!
Untitled from Craig Pablo on Vimeo.
Showing posts with label Missoula. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Missoula. Show all posts
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
F3T
So the F3T ver. 2012 rolled into Missoula last night. First of all I have to give HUGE props to Western Montana for coming out in FULL force! Marshall and I along with my father in law strolled over to the Wilma a little before 6 to get a decent spot in line and to our surprise they opened the doors shortly after 6 for us diehards (thanks dudes). Within moments they were having to turn people away that wanted to purchase tickets at the door, nope ain't gonna work in Missoula folks, you gotta get 'em early cuz we SOLD THE MUTHAF*CKA OUT!!!
Also a big thanks to The Hackle for some great pulled pork sammiches and free beverages, thanks guys, it was tasty! The pre-festival crowd at the Hackle seemed a little more varied this year, more of the (my guess anyway) non-fishing set. Don't get me wrong the usual suspects were there too.
This year's lineup is the strongest yet. Some highlights for me (and in no particular order):
Sipping Dry - what can I say? A flick about a MT river? oh yeah and it's about dry fly fishing?
Doc of the Drakes - Clearly a crowd favorite, everyone was pulling for Doc!
Geofish - Every bit the adventure expected and then some! The Motiv crew didn't disappoint..
The Kodiak Project - High on my list as both an adventure and species targeted... STEEL!!
Riding High - A sleeper in my book, after the first few scenes it's clearly a must see for the dude!
The Arctic - Another great mix of adventure and fishing told through great film making!
I don't want to go into too much detail because hopefully you get a chance to attend a tour stop.
The swag keeps getting better and better too. Some lady was VERY stoked to take home a SAGE ONE rod, she was running down the aisle Price is Right style, tightcool! I just hope she realizes what she got her hands on for the price of admission, damn! My grandson was styling in the new F3T trucker
Although I ran into a couple of guide friends some familiar faces were absent, notably this fuggin' guy (sorry buddy, at least I linked to your blather blog). By the way we did miss you guys.
Although the usual guide-jabbing-guide prattle was overheard, it even seemed slightly subdued compared to years past. To the dude in the beer line (and you know who you are) you should have read my previous post prior to attending, you single-handedly upheld my faith in my "guides like freshman girls at their first day of high school" theory, thaks brah!
This was the first time my daughter in law (and mother and father in law for that matter) attended the F3T. They were duly impressed.
Sooooo if the F3T makes a stop anywhere near your 'burg I HIGHLY recommend it, you won't be disappointed, for that it gets the "Dude Approved" status (disclaimer, this is not an actual review, besides like the F3T wouldn't get Dude Approved?!? Puh-leez!)
And lastly the dude was able to snap a quick pic on the way out with none other than Jay "Graphite Samurai" Johnson, RIGHTEOUS!!! Although I didn't get his beardbraids in the picture, he rocks two braids down the front dude-style! Thanks for the picture Jay, hope to see you on a river somewhere pre-zombie apocalypse!
Damn I wanna fish........
Also a big thanks to The Hackle for some great pulled pork sammiches and free beverages, thanks guys, it was tasty! The pre-festival crowd at the Hackle seemed a little more varied this year, more of the (my guess anyway) non-fishing set. Don't get me wrong the usual suspects were there too.
This year's lineup is the strongest yet. Some highlights for me (and in no particular order):
Sipping Dry - what can I say? A flick about a MT river? oh yeah and it's about dry fly fishing?
Doc of the Drakes - Clearly a crowd favorite, everyone was pulling for Doc!
Geofish - Every bit the adventure expected and then some! The Motiv crew didn't disappoint..
The Kodiak Project - High on my list as both an adventure and species targeted... STEEL!!
Riding High - A sleeper in my book, after the first few scenes it's clearly a must see for the dude!
The Arctic - Another great mix of adventure and fishing told through great film making!
I don't want to go into too much detail because hopefully you get a chance to attend a tour stop.
The swag keeps getting better and better too. Some lady was VERY stoked to take home a SAGE ONE rod, she was running down the aisle Price is Right style, tightcool! I just hope she realizes what she got her hands on for the price of admission, damn! My grandson was styling in the new F3T trucker
 | ||
| Braylon rockin' the new cap and scoping the Stonefly |
Although the usual guide-jabbing-guide prattle was overheard, it even seemed slightly subdued compared to years past. To the dude in the beer line (and you know who you are) you should have read my previous post prior to attending, you single-handedly upheld my faith in my "guides like freshman girls at their first day of high school" theory, thaks brah!
This was the first time my daughter in law (and mother and father in law for that matter) attended the F3T. They were duly impressed.
 | ||
| Marshall is stoked, Braylon havin' some beverage of a different type! |
And lastly the dude was able to snap a quick pic on the way out with none other than Jay "Graphite Samurai" Johnson, RIGHTEOUS!!! Although I didn't get his beardbraids in the picture, he rocks two braids down the front dude-style! Thanks for the picture Jay, hope to see you on a river somewhere pre-zombie apocalypse!
 | |||
| Fuckin' A |
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Winter for real.......probably
So it looks like winter is here in Western Montana for real, maybe...probably. Anyway with forecasts of heavy snow, highs in the high teens and strong winds I will take this chance to post some memorable moments from 2011 as I wait for the pow to pile up on the mountain.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, the spring of 2011 was wild to say the least. Every river west of the continental divide was blown out. Unfishable. Period. The winter of 2010-11 was longer than a.... well it was long and by mid-May my buddy Brooks, Marshall and I were jonesin' hardcore for some action. So much so that we decided to load up our box with czech nymphs, wire worms and as many bobbers as we could find (a feat in itself since none of us care to fish underneath much, but that's another story).
After the hourlong drive to Missoula, we picked up Brooks and hooked up his drift boat to my trusty Dodge. After the requisite stop at Rattkesnake Trading Co. for a sandwich, it was eastbound and down to the Mighty Mo. Visions of 20" trout danced in our heads, overshadowing the image of 12' leaders with an indicator, 3 split shots, a wire worm and czech nymph dangling from the end of our rods.
After a quick piss stop in Lincoln, we stopped in at the ranger station on the edge of town to look at the famous 700 lb. grizzly that was hit and killed on the highway near Lincoln a few years ago. A couple of ooohs and aaahs and it's back on the road, there are monster Missouri trout to be had after all, and by now we're almost close enough to smell them! Did I mention it had been a long winter?
On the way up Roger's Pass I noticed the trusty dodge was running a little warm....oh well we're almost to the top and now we're even closer to all of those 4000 trout per mile. As we drop into Wolf Creek, the weather clears and we glimpse the mighty Mo for the first time. It doesn't look THAT much different than the Clark Fork, which is not surprising considering the absolute deluge that blasted the Missouri River corridor the night before. It's HUGE but it is running clear, thanks to Hauser Dam. We head downriver to Craig MT and Headhunters fly shop for some last minute advice and a shuttle. Apparently the knob-turners (local jargon for the US Army Corps. of Engineers who control flows out of Hauser Dam) have decided today was a good day to dump another 3000 cfs over the dam in a attempt to keep up with inflows. Well we're here, the water is clear-at least above the Dearborn, and there are 4000 trout per mile here after all. After picking up a few must have flies, we heed the last bit of advice "don't be afraid to fish the hole on someone's lawn, just remember to wave as you float through".
Well the Missouri didn't disappoint, even for non-dredgers like Marshall and I.
Day one was spent getting used to chucking and ducking that long of leaders with that much weight. It also brought quite a few fish, and as usual Brooks spent most of the time on the sticks (one advantage of a guide buddy, they fall into their routine so easily! Just kidding Brooks, you know I'm always offering to row!)
Oh yeah, part of that routine is netting your fish and taking pictures.....
Day two dawned nice again, but again the knob-turners bumped the flows, oh well maybe now we'd be fishing soft water behind porch steps, but the fish were still there somewhere. Nothing another 6-8" of leader and another little split shot wouldn't take care of. Once again the Missouri gave it up like a freshman cheerleader on prom night to the homecoming king.
By the time we got to the takeout there were a few fish rising, after a quick round of rock-paper-scissors Marshall got to throw to the risers.
I told him he risked his built up dredging mojo casting to risers, but what do you do? We hand't seen fish rise in almost 6 months.
With the boat loaded up we reluctantly prepared ourselves for the trip back over the divide and into the western half of the state and the biblical flows that were the reality getting ready to slap us upside the head.
It was tough driving away from the Mo and her rising fish. After a quick gas stop in Wolf Creek it was homeward bound. 15 miles out of Wolf Creek my trusty-ish dodge began running warm again. Damn, I was hoping that sh*t would have magically fixed itself during one of the shuttles, or at least waited until we were back home to really go belly up. Well not only did it run warm, it overheated. Not only did it overheat, it puked most of the coolant out the overflow tank. There we sat, a long ways from home, and less than 20 miles from the Mo and her 4000 fish per mile. I would be lying if I said thoughts of coasting back into Wolf Creek and fishing some more didn't cross my mind. Unfortunately reason prevailed and after a phone call to my cousin he agreed to bring a trailer to haul my truck home. Another call to Brook's wife and she agreed to come and rescue him and his boat.
Oddly enough, the toughest part of waiting wasn't worrying about what was wrong with the truck or what time we would eventually make it home (I had to work at 7 am the next day and Brooks ironically enough was going to be back on the road EARLY the next morning to guide for a couple of days on the Mo). The toughest part was sitting there, a mere twenty miles from 4000 fish per mile and not being able to do a damn thing about it!
We made it home sometime after 1 am the next morning. Oh well, just another day in paradise!
As I mentioned in an earlier post, the spring of 2011 was wild to say the least. Every river west of the continental divide was blown out. Unfishable. Period. The winter of 2010-11 was longer than a.... well it was long and by mid-May my buddy Brooks, Marshall and I were jonesin' hardcore for some action. So much so that we decided to load up our box with czech nymphs, wire worms and as many bobbers as we could find (a feat in itself since none of us care to fish underneath much, but that's another story).
After the hourlong drive to Missoula, we picked up Brooks and hooked up his drift boat to my trusty Dodge. After the requisite stop at Rattkesnake Trading Co. for a sandwich, it was eastbound and down to the Mighty Mo. Visions of 20" trout danced in our heads, overshadowing the image of 12' leaders with an indicator, 3 split shots, a wire worm and czech nymph dangling from the end of our rods.
After a quick piss stop in Lincoln, we stopped in at the ranger station on the edge of town to look at the famous 700 lb. grizzly that was hit and killed on the highway near Lincoln a few years ago. A couple of ooohs and aaahs and it's back on the road, there are monster Missouri trout to be had after all, and by now we're almost close enough to smell them! Did I mention it had been a long winter?
On the way up Roger's Pass I noticed the trusty dodge was running a little warm....oh well we're almost to the top and now we're even closer to all of those 4000 trout per mile. As we drop into Wolf Creek, the weather clears and we glimpse the mighty Mo for the first time. It doesn't look THAT much different than the Clark Fork, which is not surprising considering the absolute deluge that blasted the Missouri River corridor the night before. It's HUGE but it is running clear, thanks to Hauser Dam. We head downriver to Craig MT and Headhunters fly shop for some last minute advice and a shuttle. Apparently the knob-turners (local jargon for the US Army Corps. of Engineers who control flows out of Hauser Dam) have decided today was a good day to dump another 3000 cfs over the dam in a attempt to keep up with inflows. Well we're here, the water is clear-at least above the Dearborn, and there are 4000 trout per mile here after all. After picking up a few must have flies, we heed the last bit of advice "don't be afraid to fish the hole on someone's lawn, just remember to wave as you float through".
Well the Missouri didn't disappoint, even for non-dredgers like Marshall and I.
 | ||
Oh yeah, part of that routine is netting your fish and taking pictures.....
Day two dawned nice again, but again the knob-turners bumped the flows, oh well maybe now we'd be fishing soft water behind porch steps, but the fish were still there somewhere. Nothing another 6-8" of leader and another little split shot wouldn't take care of. Once again the Missouri gave it up like a freshman cheerleader on prom night to the homecoming king.
By the time we got to the takeout there were a few fish rising, after a quick round of rock-paper-scissors Marshall got to throw to the risers.
I told him he risked his built up dredging mojo casting to risers, but what do you do? We hand't seen fish rise in almost 6 months.
With the boat loaded up we reluctantly prepared ourselves for the trip back over the divide and into the western half of the state and the biblical flows that were the reality getting ready to slap us upside the head.
It was tough driving away from the Mo and her rising fish. After a quick gas stop in Wolf Creek it was homeward bound. 15 miles out of Wolf Creek my trusty-ish dodge began running warm again. Damn, I was hoping that sh*t would have magically fixed itself during one of the shuttles, or at least waited until we were back home to really go belly up. Well not only did it run warm, it overheated. Not only did it overheat, it puked most of the coolant out the overflow tank. There we sat, a long ways from home, and less than 20 miles from the Mo and her 4000 fish per mile. I would be lying if I said thoughts of coasting back into Wolf Creek and fishing some more didn't cross my mind. Unfortunately reason prevailed and after a phone call to my cousin he agreed to bring a trailer to haul my truck home. Another call to Brook's wife and she agreed to come and rescue him and his boat.
Oddly enough, the toughest part of waiting wasn't worrying about what was wrong with the truck or what time we would eventually make it home (I had to work at 7 am the next day and Brooks ironically enough was going to be back on the road EARLY the next morning to guide for a couple of days on the Mo). The toughest part was sitting there, a mere twenty miles from 4000 fish per mile and not being able to do a damn thing about it!
We made it home sometime after 1 am the next morning. Oh well, just another day in paradise!
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