A nice little trip.... until.....

The Dentist, the lawyer, and I took a little trip a couple of weeks ago down to Yellowstone National Park to chase a few fish.  The trip was great until I caught the norovirus that one of them had just gotten over.  The last day I slept...and was busy with other "things" while my friends merrily fished their little heads off.  Luckily, I had caught several nice fish the proceeding two days.

Nice little blue spot.

The dentist with another toothy brown.

Just after sunrise I was ready to get that pack off.

The lawyer with a spotted up brownie.

Not a bad fish there at all.

Pre-illness brownie.

Practicing my photography skills.

Ohhhhh.... Preeeettttyyyy.

As the days get shorter and colder my inclination to get to the vice increases exponentially.  The next post just might be tying related.... that is unless I can get out and wet a line between now and then.

Sharp Hooks!

Sky

The Beaverhead

Another good find from the moldiness.  Warning:  "Salty Language"

One of Many More to Come...

When the whirlwind of office life settles down a bit I'll go through this year's Yellowstone Park Trip photos and get them up for all to see.  Here is a little taste starring Kyle Nelson.

Mr. Smith loves Chocolate Soup

Most people never know what to expect on the Smith River until they are on the water, rod in hand, fly in the water.  I have heard mixed reports for years and it seems as though it may be a roll of the dice whether you get the fishing of your life, or get your teeth kicked in.  However, even though this was my first trip down the Smith, I knew exactly what to expect, and that was chocolate soup.

As our date drew nearer our party was watching the flows constantly.  Random texts with numbers became the norm for two weeks.  "1450 CFS".  "Coming Down".  "Bumping up".  "Damnit."  These short messages needed no additional context.  We were all hopeful, but upon seeing the river for the first time that weekend, all hopes dashed.  She was darker than a black steer's tookus on a moonless summer night.  The joke was, "I'll bet there's a good, solid inch and a half of visibility."  We'd chuckle, and then wonder to ourselves if an inch and a half was being generous.

Cocoa Highway

We had stopped in Wilsall on the way and had a great big cheeseburger, expecting it would be the last good meal we'd have for a few days.  Our bellies were full as we put camp together at Camp Baker, got a fire going, and had a few vitamin Rs.  "Maybe she'll come down over the next couple of days" someone remarked.  I'm sure stranger things have happened, but with warm temp and rain in the forecast it was highly unlikely. 

The next morning brought renewed hope in the form of the river map and the tributaries that the local ranger said were fishing well.  Off we went.

First Stop - Wonka's Corner, just down from Baby Ruth Bend

Most of the gang, in absolutely no hurry

The first several fish of the trip were in Rocky Creek.  Kyle and I stopped just above our camp for the night and headed upstream, doing our best not to trespass, and soon got into the fish.  Eggs, soft hackles, and san juan worms were the ticket.

Kyle on the board first... in water I had just passed up

Jonesy on the board

Not a bad looking backdrop

I have to say that day 2 was exactly the same as day 1.  Muddy water, fish in the tribs, good food.  Oh, have I not mentioned the food?  Well, Rooster was a hell of a cook, and volunteered to do most of it.  As it turns out that cheeseburger in Wilsall was NOT the best meal of the trip.  Here's a pic of Rooster, the best camp cook alive...just ask him.

Rooster holding an "ancient indian artifact"

Day three... The highlight of the trip a la the Heaven on Earth Ranch.  It truly might be.  Kyle and I pulled in and decided it was high time for 9 holes of golf in our wading boots.  Vick Anderson, one of the proprietors, is one of the nicest hosts I've ever met and accompanied us for half the round carrying a "jug" filled with some sort of concoction that, despite its potency, was quite refreshing.

Kyle carefully chooses his weapon and later discovers he grabbed a left handed putter.

I opted for a club with non "super power", as the longest hole was 150 yards.

Ask Gary Anderson the name of the cliff...He's a riot.  BTW, that's a tee box up there and I'm standing on the green.

Kyle, inches away from taking the lead outright, collapses in disbelief, or maybe he was just tired.

To make a long trip story short, we had a great time, caught a few fish, made some new friends, and saw an incredible amount of beauty.  I leave you with a few more images of the Smith, a river that you should definitely have on your bucket list.

The view from a latrine....seriously

See you down the river!

Fly Fishing Themed Advertisements

Every time I see something associated with fly fishing it catches my eye.  Perhaps it is because there is no point in time when I wouldn't rather be fishing.  Bodies of water, drift boats being hauled down the highway, bumper stickers, ads, you name it, it'll get a look from this guy.

However, there is one thing that I notice quite often, and that is the high frequency of "mistakes" in ads and commercials for non-fly fishing products and services that have a fly fishing theme.  We've all seen them.  A grandfather and his grandson, plopped on the riverbank, "fly fishing", while the voice over tells us why we need to buy some particular financial services, cholesterol medication, etc.  The next time you see a fly fishing ad, take a closer look.  Rarely have I seen one that didn't have some detail that made it obvious that there wasn't a fly fisherman anywhere on the set, let alone the actors and models holding the rod and reel.  The most recent ad on TV that I saw had the main character sitting next to a pond watching a red and white bobber while his fishing line (no fly line) was attached to a fly reel.  While this would work I'm sure, it's certainly not typical.  The other day I was in US Bank waiting in line wherein I saw the poster pictured below.  I had to point out the obvious mistake to the tellers, who in turn looked at me like I was crazy.  Perhaps I am, but if I were hired to oversee the fly fishing aspect of a commercial for laundry detergent, you can bet that mistakes like this would not happen.  Can you spot it?

If any of you readers out there (yes mom, you and sis and the three others) see any ads featuring fly fishing "mistakes" I'd love to hear about them! Shoot me an email to sky@fish366.com and I'll get them up for the world (or 5 people) to see!

Happiness and Fishing

 

                             Are you truly happy?  I think 11. should read:  Fishing "Enough".

Orvis Guide Olympics and DOWN THE HATCH

Orvis has scheduled their "Guide Rendezvous" called "Down the Hatch" for April 5, 2014, in Caras Park, Missoula.  I went last year and had a wonderflul time dancing, endulging, eating, visiting, and finally, watching some great films.  This year will be even better I'm sure and I can't wait.  Here is a little something I put together for the Guide Olympics.... Which, who knows, I may enter this year...

Can you name the trout used from left to right?  Here's a hint:  They are 5 of the 7 Trout necessary for the IGFA Trout Royal Slam.

If you need a ride over to Missoula for DTH and don't mind fishing on the way there and on the way back, let me know.  Check out details on Down the Hatch on Orvis' website, facebook page, or just stay tuned in here.  Also, check out their blog when you get a chance aqui.  Muy bien.

Adios!

Cielito Lindo

Oldie but a goodie...

An older post from one of my favorite blogs - Yellowstoner.

Check it out at  http://www.flyfishyellowstone.blogspot.com/

SUNDAY, APRIL 09, 2006

Spring Fly For Yellowstone Trout

This Fly Will Catch Fish!

It was a late night in the loft in Ennis, Montana. We had fished Beartrap, and the Madison near theislands - way below Norris. The sky was broken clouds and their shadows came and went on the water.

Some people call them 'Millers,' others call them moths. What ever they were, there was a scad-pile of them. A famous fishing guide said that he had the fly to match the hatch. We paused as he pawed through his kit and found two of them.

"Yellowstone Coachman," he cried and bit off the midge that he had been fishing. He shared his second fly with me, and we returned to the battle. Splash it down, float it in like a gossamer ghost - or anything in between. Fish raced to gather it up. Once I watched three fish dash from under a rock to get to the fly. This was magic.

We fished 'til almost dark and hooked every fish in that mile of the Madison - all 4,500 of them - or so it seemed! We drove back to Ennis, arm weary and bone tired. The road was dry, the sky was orange, the company was great. We stopped at the Town Pump for some fuel, and some other fuel.
As we sat in the loft and discussed the day we had to learn more about the Yellowstone Coachman. Our guide explained that he had gotten it from an old fisherman in West Yellowstone, Montana. He took it just to be kind to the old duffer; put it in his kit and forgot about it. Last year on opening day in Yellowstone Park he saw some 'millers' on the water and remembered the fly. He put it on as a lark and caught a few fish. Ever since then he brings it out in the early spring when the 'millers' are on the water.
This fly is a variant of the fan-wing coachman, The tail is longer and the hackle is softer and larger.
Ingredients for Yellowstone Coachman: Tail = 3 or 4 peacock sword fibers, Body = peacock herl wound in middle with bright orange floss, Wings = barred chucker. Hackle = grade 3, or stiff hen - one size larger than hook, Head = black thread. Hook Sizes = 6 -14 regular dry fly. Drench with flotant and fish low in the film, or even submerged. Cast gently - it can twirl and sing by your ear and this is hard on the leader and your knots, (and maybe your ear.)
The last time I put a fly up, I got many emails about the set-up and questions about doing it. There is no secret, and the pictures are certainly not art. Look at the photo below for details. French wine seems to work best.

A few shots from the Upper Sweetheart...

A place where cutties grow fat and strong.

A place where grizzlies play in the mud.

Not a bad view at all...

One of many great spots.

We were certainly favored that day with fish and weather...sans grizzlies.

Waxing....Waxing....Waxing....

The moon is waxing, which is only the case every 15 or so days per month.  That means that we should be fishing.  By the way, a waxing moon is the time period after the new moon when that bad boy is on its way to being full.  There is a great lunar calender at http://lunaf.com/english/moon-phases/lunar-calendar-2013/ .

American Angler Sweet Spot....Aren't they all?

My friends and I were recently looking over an issue of American Angler.... a fine publication.... whereupon we noticed that the issue's "Sweet Spot" contest looked very familiar.  After a very brief discussion, we all agreed that the photo was taken at Mallard's Rest on the Yellowstone River near Emigrant, MT.  We all decided to send in our "guesses" and if any of us were drawn for the prize (a new fly rod) we would share and share alike...although I'm not sure how that would have worked out with a fly rod.  A day or so later I happened to be driving toward Gardner and passed Mallard's rest and thought I've give a go of trying to recreate the photo using my phone's camera.  Trying to remember the dimensions of the photo, where the exact spot was, etc., were all going through my mind while Shannon and the dog waited in the truck... yes, it was very cold and very windy.  (Imagine that happening in the Paradise Valley....weird).  So, as the two pictures below indicate, I got pretty darn close without any cropping.  I sent in that photo with my contest entry but alas, my added efforts proved fruitless...no shared fly rod.  None the less, I can't wait until the Paradise Valley once again lives up to it's name, the ice floats away, and we can once again float the Stone.

Until then, sharp hooks and good gloves,

Sky

P.S. I'm not trying to brag on my photo-spacial-memory skills, just hoping that the luck that I had on that day continues over until the warmer months, when I'LL be the guy in the red shirt.

Streamer Retrievers

Great reminder from Gink and Gasoline

Trout Royal Slam Quest Begins!!!

I can't sleep.  I tried to no avail.  I'm closing on a house tomorrow, and while the thought of having room for rods, reels, waders, flies, tying materials, etc. ad nauseum, sounds great, the thought of the place falling down around me won't bugger off.  So, I thought I'd check my email.  There I found something to get my mind off mold, leaky pipes, backed up septic systems, and hail.

A while back I sent an email to Jack Vitek, the World Records Coordinator for the International Game Fish Association.  I was inquiring about the "Trout Royal Slam" that I had read about in an issue of International Angler.  Apparently, the IGFA recognizes several "slams" or "clubs" including the "10 lb Bass Club", several Grand Slams, and a few Royal Slams.  The Trout Royal Slam consists of catching and documenting a brook, brown, bull, cutthroat, golden, lake and rainbow trout in one's lifetime and currently the IGFA recognizes 28 members of this club.  The first thing that came to my mind was the fact that all of these species can be found in this great State of Montana.  I inquired whether or not anyone had done it in one calendar year, wanting to be the first.  Alas, four people already had, and Jack presumed that at least one of those four did it exclusively on the fly.

So, after getting my hopes up for being the first to accomplish this feat in one year, and in true Rube Goldberg fashion, I decided to make things a little harder than they really had to be.  Now, don't get me wrong, catching all seven of these species in one year is a daunting task, but not nearly as difficult as it would be if I lived in Amarillo.

For 2013:

• Obtain the IGFA Trout Royal Slam;
• Fully document each catch by video or photo;
• Catch each fish on the fly;
• Catch each fish in the State of Montana;
• Catch all fish within one calendar year; and 
• Catch all the fish for the Slam on flies that I tied myself.

I started this little blog to document my journey to catch a fish for each calendar day of the year, and I've done a horrible job of keeping up with things.  While my journal is still getting some use, I have yet to put any of the entries into a form that would be interesting to you the reader.  I have decided that the lofty, long term goal of a fish for each day of the year, while I'm still pursuing it, is a little broad for consistent content.  So, I'm breaking things up a bit.  Let's say the 366 idea is a "10 Year Goal".  I should also think of a 5 year goal, 3 year, and so on and so forth.  I'll start with a one year goal for 2013, and that is the IGFA Trout Royal Slam.  While I don't have to catch all of the fish within one year, I'm sure going to try to overcome the hardest obstacle for somebody like me...remembering to document the fish properly as per IGFA specifications....with a few "rules" of my own.  If anyone would care to join me, feel free.  The race starts in January.  Until then, tight lines, sharp hooks, tough flies and tougher fish.

To learn more visit www.IGFA.org.

www.IGFA.org

Whitefish - The Other White Meat

Prosopium Williamsoni - That's not normally the term you hear when a fisherman brings a mountain whitefish to the net.  More familiar terms that are often heard are similar to "damn" and/or "crap".  Although I have grown to have an appreciation for this native "montana bonefish", I have been guilty of the same reactions.  Usually they come when nymphing a perfect hole that you just KNOW holds a big trout, the indicator pauses, and BANG, you're hooked up to what you are certain is a 22" rainbow, and before you pull in any line you are anticipating sending the pics to your "know-it-all" fly fishing buddies down south.  Then, you feel the "machine gun tug", that unmistakable head shake that can send feelings of disappointment up the leader, down your line, through your eyelets, and directly into your heart.  You won't be sending these pics down south.

I'm not exactly sure how the whitefish got the bad rap that it has.  Sure they're slimy, and it's not very easy to throw one in the pan, but catch a good one, especially this time of year, and hold on. As far as eating them goes, try smoking one, trust me.  

Last weekend I took a trip up the Madison just above where it dumps into a lake and in spots, couldn't see the bottom of the river for all the whitefish.  I happened to be hucking meat all day looking for a bruiser, but my compatriots and I couldn't resist tying on a lightening bug and getting our fill of pescado blanco before moving on.  This got me to thinking, "what a great way to break in a new fly fisherman (or woman)?"  What better way to put somebody on fish (they're schooled up and easy to spot) and let them practice casting, mending, setting a hook, playing, and landing decent sized fish?  They'll eat anything that floats by, they could care less if you're throwing a size 16 prince nymph with 3x tippet, and if spooked, immediately regroup and start eating again.  Fellas, if you've got a gal that you're trying to get into fly fishing, or a kid, or somebody like me with the attention span of a 3 year old, get them on the whites.  It'll pay lots of dividends down the road.

So, I can tell you the whites have begun their march to their spawning grounds and they're hungry.  As for the bruits I was looking for, it'll be a while yet before they make their way up.  Until then, perhaps the train to Brownsville has a stop or two to make.  Allll aboooard!

Water Temperatures

If you're not sure why I'm posting water temperatures here at this time of year, then perhaps you should consider following a different blog, perhaps something to do with cooking or the proper use of hot glue.  Perhaps check out Pinterest.  For everyone else:

Gallatin River at Logan:  The river is low, but the temperature readings on the USGS site are promising.  Temps dropped to 50 degrees F last night for what I think is the first time since the spring.  They are back up to 58 during the day, but with the cool day we had it should drop a little lower tonight.  Flow is between 300 and 350 cfs. 

Gallatin River near Gallatin Gateway:  Fished this yesterday for an hour or two after work.  Fishing was slow.  I'll blame the shift to cooler weather and not my fishing abilities... as usual.  No temperature information on the USGS site and flows at 410 CFS.  Water felt pretty chilly up there, which is what I heard from my fishing companion who had a hole in his waders, but that's hearsay.  Objection.

Madison River below Ennis Lake near McAllister: Consistent discharge of 1,360 CFS.  Water temps down from 65 last week to almost 61 degrees last night.  Lets hope it'll continue to drop...fingers crossed.

Madison River near Cameron:  Not looking too bad.  Flows between 1000 and 1100 CFS and a low temp of 47 degrees last night.  Yesssss.  Got up to 55 degrees today.

Madison River at Kirby Ranch:  Temps ranging from daytime of 62 degrees and a low last night of 53.  Must be some chilly water dumping in below the dam.  CFS at 1010.

Madison River below Hebgen Lake:  The dam is pumping out 953 CFS and memories of learning the true sound of heartbreak when losing a gigantic brown this last spring between the lakes...'tis the "tic" of a line breaking.  Water temps dipped to 59 degrees last night and didn't get up to 61 today.  Chill baby chill.

Madison River near West Yellowstone:  Not sure exactly where this USGS site is (No. 06037500), but I wish they'd get a temperature reading at that site.  I wish I could designate exactly where my tax dollars go.  ("Dear IRS, I'd like to pay for an upgrade at USGS site No. 06037500.  Hope all is well and tell the family I said hello.  Sincerely, Sky)  Flows at 410 CFS. 

Missouri River at Toston:  Water is still hot in Toston, and I'm not talking about your Uncle Phil's disgusting hot tub after the last New Year's Party.  The low temp dropped to 59 last night and only looks like it's going to get up to 61 or 62 today.  Sunday, September 9th, 2012 it was up to almost 66. Icky.  Flows are between 1600 and 1800 CFS.

Jefferson River near Three Forks:  LOW.  No information on water temps on the USGS site. Flows between 300 and 350 CFS.  Probably warmer than two rats wrestling in a wool sock.

Shields River near Livingston:  33 CFS.  Dang low.

Yellowstone River near Livingston:  Flows at 1740 CFS.  Pretty low for this time of year when the 88 year median is at 2400 CFS.  Temps are looking good and probably much better than the air quality over there right now.  Dipped to 53 degrees last night but will probably get to around 58 today...

I'm looking to take a trip to Brownsville sometime soon if I can get caught up at work, and no, I'm not talking about South Texas.  If you made that mistake, like I said, check out Pinterest.

A dream about being arrested in Vegas = Streamer Idea.

I woke up this morning during the weirdest dream.  Let me rephrase that, because I've had some pretty weird dreams in my life... during an interesting dream.  My friends Brent Callaway and Joseph Young and I were in Las Vegas and had somehow found ourselves in trouble...with the cops.  We were being arrested and hauled away in a "police shuttle", I in the back seat, and Brent and Joe locked inside a steel box attached to the back.  Apparently they were a little more out of hand than I was.  I snuck the key to the box from the guard who was busy watching TV, snuck out the back, and freed my friends, who were laughing the whole time as we got away.

The Streamer idea came from what I think I saw on the back of the shuttle.  Attached to the hitch insert was one of those chrome boat propellers that some people have to say "hey, I have a boat", although the truth is probably more like "hey, I'd like to have a boat".

So, I got up early, and tied this guy on a 2x hook, using 50 lb mono as the "tail" with beads and a plastic spinner that I picked up a while ago at Big R in Great Falls.  I thing they're used for steelhead rigs, but I'm not exactly sure.  I just thought it looked neat.  The idea is to have it spin on the mono while it's stripped through the water, giving it a little more action.  To facilitate the spinning I added several beads while trying to stay in the rainbow trout color scheme (note the pink belly and olive back).  I haven't had a chance to drag it through the water, in the bathtub or otherwise, so I'm still not exactly sure how it's going to work.  Hopefully it'll spin on the line and not twist the entire streamer.  I guess if that's the case I can certainly cut the garbage off the back and have a pretty decent bugger, if I do say so myself, and I often do.

I'll let you know how it "turns" out.  If it works, we'll find a name.  If not, well, I'll put it in the streamer box next to the other olive buggers.  Comment below for name ideas!!!

In other news, The Bobbin Droppers (www.facebook.com/thebobbindroppers) are about ready to get after it!  Stay tuned!

The Smith River Blues

559 and 817.  Those are two really good-looking numbers.  559 and 817.  As I said them out loud they just felt good rolling off my tongue.  When I saw them yesterday it made me happy.  And today, those numbers are 538 and 785.  They're dropping and looking better and better.

Those numbers are the flows (in cfs) on the Smith River at Ft. Logan and Eden Bridge respectively.  A good friend, Kyle Nelson, is on that river right now, and I'm sure he's pulling browns out left and right.  If you were to ask if I was jealous I'd respond with silence and a look that says "why would you ask such a ridiculous question?"  I was supposed to be there.  I was meant to be there, in the boat, hauling 20 inch fish all day long in one of the most beautiful places on earth.  But, as fate would have it (along with the shackles that connect me to my desk), I am not.  But, perhaps there is a silver lining... who knows who's in the boat now... 

Kyle and the crew put in at Camp Baker on Monday, May 28th, 2012.  I sent the dozens of flies that I had tied in anticipation for the trip along with them.  I certainly wasn't going to need 20 JJ's Specials anytime soon.  Hopefully they're being put to good use. 

Seeing those numbers might normally make my stomach turn, knowing that the flows were great, conditions were perfect, the water was clearing up, the fish were probably eating, and I had no place at the table.  But, for some reason, they make me feel great.  Good friends deserve good fishing.

Tight lines Kyle. 

The Picture was painted by Robert Spannring... How could anyone NOT be inspired in such a place?

Check out more of Mr. Spannring's work at SpannringStudio.com or RobertSpannring.com

Kyle Nelson is a co-founder of The Bobbin Droppers fly tying club, Bozeman, MT.

Well, since I had all of ONE submission, the winner of the "name that fly" contest is.......

BigSkyFlyGuy

His winning entry: The "OYB Action Jackson"

Congratulations BigSkyFlyGuy!  Your fly is in the mail!

To see a video of the fly being made filmed by Adam Keene check out the video above!

Enjoy!  - Sky

Ryan's Big, Big, Big Yellowstone Brown.

So, here at the office we are anxiously anticipating Spring and the return of optimal fishing conditions.  While organizing some files on my new computer the other day I came across all of the photos from Ryan's Big, Big, Big, Brown...and thought I'd pass the account along to all of you.

It was Good Friday, April 22, 2011, at approximately 8:30 p.m.  Ryan and I were each in our respective offices, busy at it, when I heard a knock on my door.  It was no surprise that it was Ryan and he had a look in his eye that meant only one thing...fishing.  "What do you think about floating?"  I was already out of my chair and headed to change before he had mentioned any river, because any river would have done at that point.  Luckily the boat is parked next to the office, and we were on the road in less than an hour.

There was a bit of snow along the road in town, and a little more as we headed over the pass toward Livingston.  I fired up the Flip Cam and took a few shots of the ominous looking clouds that guarded the Paradise Valley, directly where we were headed.  I normally don't mind the weather when I'm fishing, in fact, I hardly notice it.  But I will say that I dread bad weather on the Yellowstone.  It can be trouble, and it's no secret that Lucy resides just downriver in Livingston, and will show up at any time.  But Ryan and I drove to the put-in and things were calm for the rest of the day...well, at least the weather was calm, little did we know that we were just a few hours away from screaming like schoolgirls at a Bieber concert.

The trip started off as usual with a few smaller fish on nymphs.  If I remember correctly the fishing was slow so we decided that if it was slow anyways, we may as well throw streamers and try to catch something big.  The past week I had been tying some big flies.  These included some articulated 2 x size 2 streamers of orange, yellow, and brown that I had hoped would resemble a passing 4" brown trout.  I never expected to catch a thing on them, but they looked funky.  I also tied a few behemoths in black, tan, olive, etc.  The usual suspects of colors.  Ryan and I took turns on the oars while the other pounded the banks with a 9' 8 wt. rod that I had broken the tip off of.  I referred to it as my 8'8" 8.8 wt.  That rod feels like a telephone pole but you can throw a streamer from Emigrant to Pray with one false cast with that thing.  As we pounded the banks I'm sure the conversation varied with topics such as how to mount stereo speakers in the boat, what float we should have gone on, how many fish we'd be catching if we were on the Madison, etc.  It was a calm day, and a good chance for Ryan and I to recharge our batteries.  Then, I hooked a fish.

He was right on the bank as many fish are in that river.  I brought him to the net and was proud of my orange-yellow-brown craziness that had fooled this 17 incher.  He was a pretty fish, and I was happy to jump on the oars after that and row the rest of the way.  Ryan and I switched spots.  I rowed us away from the bank while Ryan made a couple of false casts.  Ryan let the streamer splash down near the opposite bank, made a strip or two, then snagged a log...or so I thought.

Ryan's "log" screamed downriver.  Expletives poured from Ryan's mouth at a greater rate (in cfs) than the Yellowstone has ever been.  The reel's throat had instantly worn out and was reduced from screaming to a sharp hum.  I was frozen and was merely watching the events unfold as if they were on T.V.  Awakening, I spun the boat and headed back for the bank.  Ryan was the first out of the boat.  I was kicking down the anchor while Ryan screamed "GET THE NET!"...  Wait, let me correct that...  "GET THE &#$%!*@ NET!"  I bailed out with the newly named net and headed downstream after Ryan.  Don't ask my why we didn't stay in the boat.  I have no clue.

I sprinted downriver as fast as I could.  I paid no attention to Ryan, his line, or his fish.  My plan was to get downriver fast...as fast as my Korker wading boots, which were falling apart only months after buying them, would carry me over the rocks.  (Dear Korker, It's the truth.  Send me two new pair and I'll omit your name.  I wear an 11.  Love, Sky)  Before I knew it I was 60 yards downriver and could hear Ryan using the net's new name for my new name.  Apparently I had gone too far.  I turned to see Ryan's line entering the water about 30 yards down from where he was walking...towards me.  The fish was still mid-river, but I could see Ryan trying to turn him my way, and Ryan was gaining ground.  I waited for them to come to me a bit.  The fish inched closer to our side of the river, and was now out of the fastest of the water.  As I jumped in the river I could see Ryan's line entering the water 20 yards upriver, and Ryan was getting closer to the fish, and closer to me. I walked out twenty feet from the bank in 3 feet of water, and then I saw it.  10 yards upriver, in the slower water, facing upstream...a big brown.  I dipped the net in the water, scooped it under the fish, and lifted.  I expected to see a monster in the net, but it was empty.  How could I have missed!  Before Ryan could express his displeasure I dipped again, scooped up the fish with perfect netting technique (riiight.), and the fish was ours.  We sprinted upstream back to the boat without even looking at the fish.  The camera was the only thing on our minds.  I handed the net to Ryan, grabbed the boat cam, pushed power, and my heart sank.  "Charge Battery" flashed on the screen.  Of course it would do that.  I grabbed my phone, which as it turned out took better pictures that the boat cam anyways, and here you have it.  Ryan's Big, Big, Big Brown.  26 inches, fat, hook-jawed, and one heck of a good time.

As we approach the one year anniversary of that fish I can't help but hope that a reunion is in order.