Family all went to Branson Belle for a show and lunch, beautiful day and a lot of fun.
Jack & Jon at Park Pool -Thanksgiving Branson
Fishing the morning hatch. A little water running today. JMac picked up 3 rainbows, one on a brown midge, one on a submerged dry, one on a top water black damsel. Jack had no luck, took a little swim early in the morning but shook it off and soldiered on. Fished 2 hours, back at trout Lodge by 9:30.
Branson Thanksgiving
Some pictures from the first annual Branson Family Thanksgiving.
North Platte
Left Casper at 8 am, drove Hiway 26 east through the North Platte Valley. Sonya took the wheel and we are 400 miles from home rolling down Interstate 80. Arrived home in Lawrence after 10PM, dead rired from the road.
Sonya driving on Interstate 80 near Kearney NB.
Hardin
We left Butte this morning under the careful watch of Our Lady of the Rockies, a crisp 14 degrees F. Coffee in Bozeman, along the Yellowstone through Livingston, past the refineries at Laurel and Billings then over the hill to Hardin. Getting lunch at the Ranch House Cafe tucked at the south end of Main Street. Hunters in camp and local ranchers filling the booths and tables. We turn the rig south toward Casper.
Butte
Frost covers the card reader on the side door as Sally and I make our way in from the only patch of exposed turf on the La Quinta grounds. She licks the last few drops from the mini creamer cups, my first cup is hot and steaming on the arm of the lobby sofa as I write. It’s 6:30 in Butte Montana, the place where my Dad was born in 1940.
We left Coeur d’Alene yesterday around noon after ruling out our interest in Twin Lakes Villiage as a potential place for another condo. It just did not have much going for it. Over the pass, Montana Bar in DeBorgia, 50,000 Silver Dollars, winding our way along the St. Regis River, gray runs broken by lively riffles, surely holding native trout. I log this away for another day.
Old Mill Loop in St. Regis - Clark Fork River
Sonya and I make a pit stop at a service station in St Regis and then drive east, just out of town a right turn onto Old Mill Road, a dirt loop that follows a hairpin turn in the Clark Fork River. Lot 32 has a rough lane leading to a flat dotted with mature pines and firs, a steep rock hillside rises from the edge of the smooth blue green water on the opposite bank. The smell takes me back to deep memories of the mountains, people and experiences of my life and in the coolness of the fall air I see myself here again.
Trestle Creek holds more wonder with its mountain golf course, affordable lots and captivating views of the river, my mind races at the possibilities of retirement. With a feeling of hope and excitement we drive east to Missoula for dinner, then on to Butte. Some tv, ice cream in our room and we are out.
Twin Lakes
Sunday morning, a low fog lifting from the lake exposing the scarred hillside a thin layer of snow now sparse from a few days of warm weather. Gold splashes of tamarack framed in the deep green black of the fir and pines.
Sonya, Sally and I are stopping over for a couple of days on our way back to Kansas after attending services for my brother in Kennewick. We are staying at my cousins cabin on north twin. Today we will spend some time in Twin Lakes Village looking at properties as a run up to retirement.
Rathdrum is experiencing a renewal, dinner last night with Austin and Carrie at Nadine’s was a step back in time. Small restaurant, owner chef and food with actual flavor! Promising indeed.
morning on north twin
North Idaho Smallmouth with Fowler
There are time in life where everything just comes together, all of the pieces fall into place. This was the case on a late spring day in 2012 when Brad and I met up for an unscheduled and unscripted day on the water. There was a time when Brad and I would spend nearly every "open day" together chasing fish, fowl or game, alternately we might opt for shooting sports and or golf...needless to say, options were not an issue.
There are three great attributes of partnering with Fowler...
- He knows the species in question...fish or game, most likely he has the formula for success dialed in. He has many times described some outlandish adventure that we were considering, I would quickly begin to doubt the wisdom of his plan just to be amazed at its accuracy and the corresponding results.
- He knows how to handle the tackle....this section requires subparts to adequately describe the details. a) he has all of the tackle, the man could restock a medium sized sporting good store if the need arose. I am talking about pallets of lead bird shot, racks of decoys, waders of every description, bags of unopened fishing tackle etc...in addition to his complete library of rifles, smoothbores and loading equipment. His truck has every manner of small gadget tucked in all available pockets and nooks. If we forget to bring lunch or go off into a snow bank...no problem, a mid rate forager would have no problem scraping together a package or two of jerky, a proper assortment of fruit flavored water drinks and if lucky, perhaps an old elk sausage that slipped into the defroster while being warmed up
The best part about runnig with
Flyfishing Arkansas Trout
Pilgrimage - Thursday June 18th, 2015
We left from the farm after a Fathers Day get together officiated by my 8 year old granddaughter, Jemi. There were home made items and other gifts, as always it was a world class production. Jake and I had been planning this trip for about a week. The camping gear that had been abandoned since our migration to Kansas eight years ago, was pulled down, dusted off, sorted and either thrown out or for those items that made the cut, stacked neatly in a special area to be deployed once again on this trip. Much of the old camp junk was left over from years of deer and elk camp in Idaho, Washington and other parts of the Northwest, it was clunky and scraped together, clearly unsuitable for a minimalist expedition such as this. Because we are re-tooling to do it right when chasing big trout, this new time and new chapter in our sporting life will require new gear. Proper lists were started and items identified for purchase.
The tying bench was resurrected, vice mounted to a sturdy bench in the basement, boxes of hair and feathers, beads and every manner of hook and thread were cataloged and labeled on the plywood shelves left of the bench. Bright light beaming down on the jaws of the vice waiting for the next creation to take shape. After this trip we had hoped to know what patterns to tie for these Ozark trout...now that we have returned, guide Ty Ingram shared his ideas on midges and streamer patterns, we have a list and will begin tying with purpose for future trips.
We set out for the North Hampton Inn in Springfield, MO at 9 PM, a steady hot sticky Kansas rain blackened the road and the drive, but the anticipation of our first trip away kept our spirits high. Midnight had us at the front desk and we settled into a stark but cool second floor room. Sleep came easy.
Choices - Friday June 19th, 2015
Our forecast called for rain again, this steady torrent that has covered the Midwest since mid-may had managed to blow out every free flowing creek, stream and river across three states. Jake and I were not sure where the day would lead us but we were determined to find some trout water somewhere before nightfall. The flagship Bass Pro Store in Springfield was a massive explosion of buck heads, full body mounts of elk, birds and many other creatures of the woods and waters. Fish tanks brimming with gossamer overgrown trout, bass, gar and even a sanctuary full of small gators dotted the huge expanse. Needless to say, we were in the right place to secure the last remaining loose ends for our car camping kit.
The Plateau Flyshop is nestled in an unassuming strip mall on a main north south arterial. Ty Ingram was working the counter and soon struck up a conversation with Jake as he browsed some of the gear. After some deliberation about locations, high water and realistic opportunities for catching a fish among the chaos, Ty and his counterpart Jim Stouffer recommended a float trip down the Norfork and or White rivers in Arkansas. Both dams had been releasing water intermittently and due to the restricted flow, provided fishing opportunities despite the rough weather. After rounding up provisions and breakfast, Jake and I met Ty back at the shop. South on 65 through Branson, east on 62 through to Harrison, Arkansas through to Mountain Home , Cotter, Salesville and eventually Norfork and the road north to the dam.
Space 31 ran perpendicular to the river and had a shower-house 150 yards away, it was covered and made a good place to pitch our tents and unroll our gear. The river was moving, a heavy release began in earnest early in the afternoon while we were driving south. We launched the Clakacraft driftboat in the eddy near the dam and set out. Casting with a heavy line and rod was challenging due to my long hiatus from the sport. The huge weighted bruiser streamer was tough to cast and with the rushing water and line under my feet, I fear that I did not impress anyone with my rusty casting prowess, mostly myself. I vowed to myself work hard and get better.
The first fish came to Jake's rod after a fly change, a spirited 15 inch rainbow. It was landed and released without incident, meanwhile, I continued to pound the banks with the magnum articulated bead head streamer, fatigue was setting in. We stopped at the tip of an island, and re rigged. I opted for a lighter 6 weight and a sensible streamer, soon I hooked and lost a decent fish. We took out at the confluence of the Norfork and the White. Our chef, Jake, pulled together three magnum ribeyes on the charcoal grill, red potatos and asparagus. Soon we were ready for the tents and ended a full day. We found our trout.
Low Water Grand Slam - Saturday June, 20th 2015
Morning came at five AM for me, a sticky hot night with droplets of dew falling from the tree above our small tent, with such frequency that I thought last evenings forecast for sunshine, was in error. I beat it for the campground showers and was refreshed when I stepped into the fog of morning silence, the campground was silent. The boat ramp was jammed with weekend fishermen and their equipment, some with a single kayak in the back of a pickup truck, others with local guides in long boats, a White River system tradition, bastardized with jet pump equipped motors. Somehow, I imagine that so it is with many things in life, old wooden longboats equipped only with human power have given way to modern convenience and with it the purity of the White River tradition. The guides with boats-full of weekend warriors and their bait, confirmed this suspicion. In all of my years observing quality waters and the regulations that go with them, I have never observed a trout water carnival such as this. If it had not been for our extreme need to actually hold a bright trout after these many years of midwest exile, this experience with all of the commotion and people would have been a disappointment. I have heard that life is what you make it and somehow this trip was a turning point, a Return to the River. We made the best of our situation, other anglers and all. I now know what I had all of those years in Washington, Oregon and Idaho.
Ty worked with Jake before we left camp on some casting fundamentals and theory, a short time later, unsurprisingly, he was casting tight loops, mending drag free dead drifts and a dozen trout later, Jake had officially "gotten the hang of it"!
We drifted down the river through the first shoal and got out to drag the boat, weaving through fishermen in waders standing in the morning mist. Eventually, I stepped out of the boat, quickly discovering leaks in both legs of my waders. I worked my way down the gravel beach and crossed through a hip deep run to position myself in a the tail-out of a long slow pool. With the fog lifting and sunshine appearing for the first time, I began stripping line to cast to a fish that was moving 40 feet upstream. The 10 inch rainbow took the Copper John nymph on the second cast. I unhooked and released the fish after snapping a photo, my first Arkansas trout. Untangling my 3-fly system of a Stimmulator with a double drop Pheasant Tail and small Copper John. My next fish was a 10" Brook Trout, the first "brookie" that I could remember catching in 20+ years, I snapped a second photo. Re-positioning myself on the north bank, I cast to another fish that had been steadily rising, soon my third fish was at hand, a brown of about the same length, naturally, Murphy's law set in and my battery died as I tried to snap a third photo. This was a first for me and I would suspect a lifetime might pass before bringing to hand 3-species, consecutively, will occur again.
Jake and I waded back toward the launch, fishing the run just downstream, he and I picked up another 8 fish. Ty loaded the boat, we went back and packed up camp, ate some lunch and headed out. We stopped and checked out the walk in area at Rim Shoals and the launch at Kotter.
We arrived back in Lawrence at 7PM, tired but energized from our connection with the river and the trout.
Thoughts of fall...
We, myself, wife and mother have just returned to our family after a voyage along the fall coast of New York, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Maine, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. Upon our return to the farm, with the rest of the family in good health and sprints it is easy to be thankful for the endless and abundant blessings that make up our life.
My mind turns to thick wood-smoke in the crisp air of fall, the acrid scent of leaves, gold, red and yellow, now turned and on the cold damp ground, the end of their life cycle. I begin to have the feelings of the hunt rise up again, the conflict between leaving it alone and the natural pull that resides deep within.
This is a special time of year, a time for fall smells, boots and warmth, firewood, apple and pumpkin, a time to embrace and look forward to in all other seasons. The best is upon us.