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After the Flood

Sean Jansen
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After the Flood

June 12th was like any other day for me. I had a tour scheduled, so I woke at 5 am, loaded up the van, picked up lunches, and headed to the customers vacation rental. I remember the forecast in the park calling for rain, but that was hardly any reason to assume what happened, to actually happen. Even when the park calls for sun, 30-60% of the time, there’s an afternoon thunderstorm. 

But talking to my guests on the phone, they wanted to head to the northern end of the park. As a tour guide, we separate the park into two distinctive areas. Aptly named the north and south loops. The park is so big that no matter how hard we try, we won’t see it all in one day. 

The south loop is the classic Yellowstone. The one-stop-shopping for all things tourism: hot springs, big waterfalls, and much of the roadways in the park. The north loop is nothing but wildlife and wide-open vistas. Where rivers slither as far as the eye can see, where wolves roam, where bears forage, where native fish thrive, and where only a fraction of the visitation in the park takes place. My favorite place in the world, arguably. 

On the 12th, our day was spent photographing a black bear with a cub, watching hundreds of bison, and admired the rivers doing their typical snowmelt runoff.  We were nearing the end of our day when I told my guests that I try and remember one thing from each tour I give, and that theirs was infamous for the windshield wiper going full blast for 10 hours. I apologized for the rain, but they didn’t care. Little did I know of the damage that took hold until the very next day. 

June 13, I had another tour scheduled. This time for the southern loop. I picked up my guests from their hotel and headed into the park. In order to enter the park, you must go through the classic national park kiosk and pay your entrance fee. At the arrival, usually the ranger’s first question is about the fee to enter. Today, it was all about what was closed. 

With the ranger pointing to a map of the park enclosed in laminate for weather protection, with big red markers outlining the literal roads I drove on 12 hours previous, my sigh and exhaustion of the frustration took hold. Safety in this park is one of the more exhausting things about my job, and the morons that enter the park on a daily basis don’t help to make normal people enjoy it. But I held in my frustration and mentioned to my guests that everything they planned to see will remain open.

We began to drive along the Madison River through the west entrance of the park, until we reached a big meadow area, or I should say, what is normally a meadow. We crossed a bridge and my guests turned to me and said, “Wow. What a pretty lake!”

Anyone that has driven that section of the park knows there isn’t a lake in that area. In that moment, I knew that the northern section of the park would have devastating effects, and the road closures on the map at the national park kiosk, may actually be representational of what I’m imagining.

But I didn’t know about any of it until I was eventually evacuated later that day from Old Faithful as the park was closing. The Grand Canyon of Yellowstone, the Lower Falls of Yellowstone, was nuking out chocolate milk down its falls. Downed logs and washed away debris began rushing past us in the vehicle while we were driving, and a young black bear scurried up from the river bank and bolted up an embankment like I’ve never seen before. 

As far as what was recorded, no loss of life took place in the park during the flood event. There was one heart attack reported at a campground inside the park on the 13th, but it is difficult to say if the cardiac event is related to the flood. And as far as wildlife loss, there seems to be nothing reported either. 

June 13 to June 22, the park remained closed and was investigated for road damage and structural integrity. For all that was documented and what I later discovered through social media was that the roads from Gardiner into the park in the north as well as the Lamar Valley, infamous for the Lamar River and its native Yellowstone cutthroat trout, and why I live in Montana to begin with, was all but gone. With access to remain closed arguably for years.  

June 22 rolled around and the park did open the southern loop, but the rivers were far from fishable. To be fair, the flood event only took two days. The 12th was the day of the crime, and the 13th, the day of sentencing. But the 14th onward, the rivers subsided dramatically. June 13th, the flows of the Yellowstone River broke records with 54,000CFS. The very next day the flows plummeted. 

News from all over the country and even the world caught wind of the flood event and each had their own signature remark about the event. Everything from the, “100 to 1,000 year storm to hit Yellowstone.” I found that comical, as even those numbers aren’t accurate. To be fair, science has no record of a flood event ever happening to this scale, so no number should have ever been thrown onto it, it is its own benchmark. But that’s what the news is for. 

But the park remained steadfast and the recovery to repair happened immediately. With what I thought to take years to rebuild, the park speculates that the Lamar Valley will have access by October 15, 2022. Doubtful, I kept picking up guests and slowly meandered into the southern loop for another week or two. 

But what needs mentioning is the damage that took place. News coverage and social media milked all they could and made sure the world knew about the damage that took place within the park’s boundaries. But the real drama from the flood happened outside the park. The epicenter of the rain fell in and around the northern border of the park, up in high elevation. That water fell on melting snow and helped it rush down the creeks into the rivers where they took out everything in their path. But the water eventually left Yellowstone’s boundaries and rushed outward towards the small communities that lay around the park’s entrances. 

Cooke City is just outside of the North East entrance to the park and grants access to both the Lamar Valley and the Infamous Beartooth Highway, was an island in a mountain sea with no escape. Red Lodge on the other side of the Beartooth Highway was covered in 2.5 feet of cobble. Gardiner is where the infamous house fell into the river and washed away, but down river several major bridges also washed away and the town of Livingston had to close down their high school from waters flooding the classroom. 

Despite all the damage, once again not a single loss of human life took place. But a question I was asked frequently, both by customers after I told them of my love of fly fishing, and of various news sources and media contacts, was whether or not the fisheries were damaged. 

I personally watched from the sidelines, but gave my rod a solid month long break before considering casting out to anything. The rivers, despite their subsidence of flows since mid June, were still far from fishable as classic snowmelt was still taking place. The lakes were also murky so I decided to not cast. But what I did notice almost instantly, were the insects. 

With the amount of water that rushed down from elevation, it created pools and eddies found in newly cut riverbanks, streambeds, and even behind new obstacles like downed logs or even left over debris from bridges up river. But these eddies created soft water for insects to thrive, mosquitoes in particular. And with the abundance of insect life, the fishing was also some of the best I’ve seen in years. 

This was indeed the season of the mosquito. No matter at low elevation in early summer or up high in late August, the bug spray sales at local outdoor stores were stripped bare. But of course, everything else proceeded as scheduled, just a solid three weeks to a month later than normal.

With the creeks and rivers all shaping up to their prime flows by mid July, access became the real question. The park rivers didn’t open until this time and the Lamar was accessible only to those who had a guide or a backcountry permit. There were still 100-foot drops from where the initial road used to be connecting to the Lamar River. 

Outside the park, many of the Forest Service roads are gone. Some hikers and backpackers needed airlifting out from trailheads, where their vehicles are still stranded as you read this. But when a gate presented itself marking a road closure, this was where being in shape and having a little creativity took place. Shoulder the pack and walk up the road. Fishing spots usually hit aggressively, showed signs of never having seen a fly before. A spot that once showed years of continual deep pools and quality trout are gone, but around the bend, a new hole beckoned with just as impressive of a holding. 

The lakes began to show fantastic shape early on with abundant insect life and fish slurping at anything given the hatch. Huge numbers of insects would engulf your car and campsite. And with the abundance of water, not just the insect life flourished, the flora did also. Wildflowers bloomed all along the rivers and valleys unlike anything I had seen before. Even the animal life frolicked in places they hadn’t in years. 

As summer progressed one positive thing remained absent, smoke. Wildfires plague Yellowstone and the surrounding areas of Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming each summer. A major wildfire in Idaho eventually presented itself with smoke by early September, but it was a breath of fresh air, literally, for the season. Last year, during a drought, we had smokey skies in June. Even within the park boundaries, fires were kept not only to a minimum, but also were small and self-regulating. 

Despite the horrific damage, despite the presence of arguably god or even of course a major climate event sparking many climate change and global warming conversations, the resiliency of this park never ceases to amaze me. Last year, Yellowstone broke records for visitation, towering over four million people with a million visiting in the month of July alone. Where this year, 2022, Yellowstone National Park visitation is down 45%. 

Spiritually, I believe it’s related. Mother Nature saw what we did last year in the park. Record breaking visitation with tourists doing stupid things like littering, walking out onto thermal beds, petting bison, and of course, not handling fish appropriately. Where this year, she swatted all that and made sure a year like that was not to be repeated. Wiping out roads, flooding our own streets, and closing down rivers to be fished until next season. Giving herself a literal vacation, from us. 

I took this whole event as a sign. A sign, despite your view on god or Global Warming, that she; Mother Nature, Yellowstone and the Super Volcano, are in charge. And despite our lunacy, despite our irresponsibility, despite even our efforts to help, she will decide if what we are doing is in her best interests. And if she feels like granting us a window into her soul, she will show us. But if she doesn’t, she clearly knows how to shut the door. Reminding us all that a good woman demands patience, and should we disrupt that or show our eagerness to encroach before she allows, she will swat us down and remind us who is in charge.

Sean Jansen is a freelance writer for Flylords Magazine, and spends his time in Bozeman, Montana where he guides tours through Yellowstone National Park.

Check out the articles below:

Interview with Yellowstone Guide: Sean Jansen #fliesforfloodrelief

An Ode to Winter Fly Fishing in Montana

Angler Story of the Week: Deep Copper Giant

Nelson Oxley
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Angler Story of the Week: Deep Copper Giant

A note from Captain Bailey Short:

“Wes had booked his trip with me sometime in 2022 for his first attempt at targeting redfish on fly in Louisiana. It being early October the dates are always in demand due to the massive potential for good fishing that time of year. Of course as we left the dock that morning the weather was beautiful and our odds of getting into some fish were high. I had been fishing some schools of Jacks and Reds mixed together and prepared Wes on the ride out for what we might run into. Right away first thing in the morning we found a foaming school of jacks destroying everything in their path. As we neared the mayhem Wes said to me “Are you serious?!” Shortly after he was hooked into a big Jack Crevalle and his day was made. 

Being that we are in Louisiana we went for a little lagniappe and found some large redfish mudding through a school of shrimp on a shallow flat. The fish had been feeding so hard the flat was muddied up pretty good and only an occasional floating red blob would tip off their location. After a little while of trailing this group of fish, we spotted a deep copper giant lazily floating about 30 feet from the boat, 11 o’clock. Wes made the shot and shortly after we were watching one of the bigger fish I’ve hooked into this season charge her way off the mud flat towards the creek channel for deeper water. 

As it always goes with first timers somehow, Wes boated what I told him would probably be his biggest Redfish ever, a high 30 pound range fish that also stretched across both his knees with plenty of fish on either end. When we unhooked the fish, she had bits and pieces of shrimp carapace lodged into the roof of her mouth. I never get over how brutal these big fish are and it is just so cool to me. 

Redfish Tips

If you’re planning a trip to Louisiana some tips I can leave you with: Practice casting heavy flies and practice with a heavy rod (10-12wt) I like to throw large flies and poppers and the larger rods are perfect for big game hunting. 

Work on your short game! In Louisiana the shots are usually not far, but they are quick and accuracy dependent! Don’t scoff at a 20 ft shot, when you have 5-8 seconds to do it and get one cast to make the correct placement, It pays to get your routine down when tackling the close shots.”

This week’s Angler Story of the Week from Captain Bailey Short. Find Bailey on Instagram at @captbaileyshort. 

Check out the articles below:

Ole Red: A Redfish Angler Story

Costa Films Presents: Hooked On: Redfish

A Dream Called New Zealand

Alvaro Santillán
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A Dream Called New Zealand

Often, achieving a dream or goal marks a turning point. Sometimes even with no return. I cannot deny that New Zealand’s experiences have forever changed me as a fisherman and a human being. Not in vain, when you have spent twenty years imagining yourself there, you can only expect two things: that it is not up to par, which happens more often than we can sometimes imagine, possibly as a result of the high expectations that we set for ourselves; or that the experience itself is of such magnitude, that you do not return being the same as when you started your trip.

Only a few things are as personal, unique, and diverse as dreams. They come in all colors and shades. Also, in terms of fishing, of course.

We all dream of the same thing: big fish in quantity, heart-stopping fights… I’m sure you know what I mean. However, I find the richness in the nuances and what surrounds those fish. Those ingredients make the difference between a good dish and a delicacy. Fish are nothing more than an excuse to travel and get lost in some of the most beautiful landscapes on our planet. Right?

New Zealand is rich in landscapes… and, of course, fish, big fish, but we will get to that later.

I invite you to accompany me in my dreams, traveling around the South Island and experiencing, through these lines, the nuances that captivated me forever. We don’t have to share my dreams, but if I’m sure of one thing, it’s that in New Zealand and its countless rivers and valleys of all kinds, there’s also a dream for you.

The trout was introduced into New Zealand waters in the remote year of 1867 from Tasmania, where they had been introduced a few years earlier and traveled from the United Kingdom. Nearly two centuries later, New Zealand has become one of the world’s premier fishing destinations.

Its unique orography, an abundance of water, and temperate climate join other factors, such as a low population density or a great respect for nature and outdoor activities, offering to fly fishermen from all over the world the perfect trout fishing destination. I can’t describe it in any other way. The variety of river ecosystems can only be described as infinite on its two main islands, separated by the Cook Strait and occupying a distance of about 1,600 km from North to South.

What motivates you? A mountain freestone river? There it is. A plain river with riverside trees? No problem. A river with blue waters in the middle of a tropical jungle? Of course. Chalk streams? Sure. Shallow water lakes? Indeed!

The peculiar geography of the country, with mountains that exceed 3700m in altitude, means that the country not only has an immense variety of landscapes but also of climates, which has shaped the character of its water masses and river basins and allows us to enjoy all kinds of scenarios in a relatively small territory. A universe to be explored.

Generally speaking, New Zealand has a reputation for being a demanding destination. And, at least in the South Island, if we generalize, it is true. Densities per km are low.

The size of the fish are large, and the conditions we will have to face are usually challenging: wild fish are perfectly adapted and aware of their environment, with an unusual ability to detect any foreign element. A shine, noises, wrong moves… and it is game over. A bad presentation, a false cast too close, drag… sorry, try the next one.

And, as I mentioned earlier, the conditions will only work in your favor sometimes. We will have to face adverse weather conditions and winds that will put our casting technique to the test. We will have to face physical exhaustion. Getting out of the car and stalking a fish is not the same as doing it when you have 15km on your legs and a heavy backpack on your back for several days. And, of course, we will have to be solvent-fighting fish of sizes well above what is usual in our waters.

If we figure out how to deal with all these problems, we can get rid of blanks regularly. And it is that as the local guide Chris Dore told us, “quite often, the game is about that.”

Solitude, adventure, freedom:

The essential ingredients. There are places in the world where you can get lost with a fly rod in your hands and not see anyone else. New Zealand is full of them. The price to pay, there is always one, is to be willing to take certain risks and inconveniences.

From here, sitting in my office, I miss the weight of the backpack with everything I need for a four-day expedition. The hours looking at maps and weather forecasts. I miss the austerity of my camping mattress. The sound of rain on the tent and your wet socks waiting the next morning. I miss my dehydrated meals and energy bars. I miss filling the car with pasta and noodles for ten days. Also, the pain in my legs the returning day to the car after having fished 30 kilometers of virgin waters. The fucking blisters and my burned face. The quick “showers” in the river. The ice-cold water.

And the wind? That Northwesterly… Hell, it even got weird when it wasn’t blowing. The doubts, the glances to my partner, the “could we ford the rapids that way?” “If we swim, we both swim.” I don’t miss mosquitoes and sandflies that much. Your company 24/7. Great condiments for freshly heated soup. Even with a smile, I am nostalgic about the times we ventured into a river, walked for days, and did not find any trout. That is also fishing in NZ.

Sight fishing

New Zealand is synonymous to sight fishing. Its waters, whether amber, turquoise, green or blue, are clear as crystal and make up a unique setting for the fisherman eager for sight fishing thrills. However, one should not be fooled by YouTube videos or Instagram stories. Anyone can spot a suspended fish in a crystal clear pool or one moving from left to right in skinny water in full sun, but those are the fewest.

Most of them rest or hide in much less obvious places: strong currents, ripples, changes in depth, seams, back eddies… and, of course, we don’t always have visibility on our side. The sun doesn’t always shine, and the wind ripples the surface almost constantly. And as incredible as it may seem, for most anglers, these fish go unnoticed.

There is no way to explain how to spot a trout—half practice and experience, half innate talent. However, specific guidelines can always be followed. Valid from New Zealand to anywhere in the world.

Fish and walk slowly. Analyze the most appropriate areas where they can find refuge or a greater food supply; there, fish even slower.

Try not to touch the water if not needed. Avoid making noises, moving stones, or scratching them with your boot studs.

Always move using the terrain and the light in your favor. Use elevated areas to get a better angle. Look for the orientation in which the sun gives you a clear sight with less glare. When in doubt, cast. Sometimes stones or logs move and take.

An easy, simple cast:

A trophy trout well over 10 pounds lie in the soft water between two runs. You are finally there; you have spotted it, and you have managed to enter the best position to make a “simple” cast without making mistakes. You are where you have imagined yourself so many times. You just have to present the fly 10 meters away. A cast that, on paper, would be within reach of anyone. A cast that often becomes impossible for 90% of the anglers when adrenaline rushes through their bloodstream and their hearts beat at 150bpm.

With the sandflies eating you and the wind blowing, you muster all the calm you have inside to execute that cast. You stop, the loop extends, and the fly lands sweetly 4 meters from where it should. Or hit it just in the head. Or it lands and drags instantly… Or everything works out; the fish raises its fins and decides to take the imitation. You set it… and water.

Believe me. I have been there. I’ve been all those fishermen. And I made those mistakes and many others. Nothing is as simple as it seems in the videos. All that remains is to put your backpack on your back and cover the distance that separates you from your next opportunity. And, of course, learn from mistakes.

MICE, an unexpected ingredient

The opportunity to fish in New Zealand during a mice season is something that is not planned. This cyclical phenomenon occurs every several years, sometimes up to 10, and is related to the flowering of beech trees, which are influenced by the weather and temperature.

When these trees produce seeds, the rodent population explodes, and within that, the predator population. Or, in the case of trout, their weight.

Do you mean that we will enjoy surface fishing with mouse imitations? No, at least not during the day. Mice are rodents with predominantly nocturnal habits, and if we want to have results with this technique, we must fish during the hours of darkness.

During the night, mice, either by accident or in search of other areas, fall into the water, and the kiwi trout give a good account of them.

Three-kilo trout have been found containing more than a dozen mice in their stomach. Heavy digestion, no doubt.

Although night fishing is allowed in New Zealand, it is something I do not enjoy at all. Being in the Mecca of sport fishing and being forced to blind fish, it’s just not for me. However, beyond the weight gain, a year of mice has more implications for fishing than we could think.

First of all, the fish change their behavior in a remarkable way. They become more nocturnal, and of course, if the hunt went well the night before, it will not be uncommon to find them completely inactive digesting their dinner. You know: happy nights, sad mornings.

Second, the abundance of easy food makes them much more reluctant to make efforts to eat insects. In my experience, wherein an average year, we fish dry flies. The fish respond with generous movements to our presentations. In a year of mice, we are forced to fish in tandem or sight fish with nymphs, often with relatively heavy nymphs that go deep to where fish are resting. On the other hand, I cannot deny that not even in my best-wet dreams could I have imagined holding such a large number of trophy fish in my hands, well over the 10-pound mark.

River X in a random valley

I refer to it as River X since, in New Zealand, they display special protectionism with its waters. On infrequent occasions, you will see the name of a river published on the internet. The foreign fisherman can judge this fact as excessive zeal. Still, it is an excellent habit that I have been exercising in my home waters for many years, and it would be alright if we all made our own. Our rivers and their fish would appreciate it. Let’s not take it as a gesture of selfishness but instead of respect and protection of our most precious resource.

We decided to start the route at night with the help of our headlamps so that we could start early the following day. Before leaving the car, we do not forget to indicate our intentions and leave a small piece of paper on the dashboard, as is the culture of this country: “Two fishermen fishing upstream for four days.” And the date of the day in question.

In a country with such a quantity of trout waters, in which fishing virgin water is the key to success, the most profound respect prevails for the comrades, always trying to minimize the options of coinciding with other fishermen.

We advance together upriver for three days. In the second, we are about to be forced to turn around. After advancing for a kilometer along the bottom of a deep canyon, we found a pass that seemed too strong to wade through. I have to admit that if my friend hadn’t been 10cm taller and 20kg heavier than me, I would never have been able to overcome that torrent. With our backpacks on our heads and letting the current drag us down while we jumped diagonally, we managed to reach the other bank.

The reward is immense: as we leave the canyon, the valley opens up, and we finally have miles of crystal-clear water upon us, quite possibly untouched for weeks. That night, while preparing dinner, we don’t think about the kilometers that separate us from the car or our house on the other side of the world. We can’t get our minds off what we would find in those waters the following day.

At dawn, the rain and wind in the tent woke us up earlier than expected. One of those stormy fronts that are ahead of schedule has decided to complicate our last day of fishing. With snow falling on the peaks and rain and wind whipping through the valley, we enjoy one of the most epic fishing days of our lives.

Despite knowing that every kilometer upstream would have to be retraced the day after, we devour kilometers upstream without caring about the water and the cold that got into our bones. Each pool, every bend, and each current is more attractive than the last. We sign the best possible end to more than two months of tramping by the rivers of the South Island. That day, in that mysterious river, under the New Zealand sky falling on us, we both managed to get the best trout of our lives on the dry fly.

There is no doubt that there is a destination, a dream, and an approach for every fisherman.

In New Zealand, I found mine, but that doesn’t stop me from admiring the number of virtues and qualities that make each of its rivers a place to live, the essence of fly fishing, whatever that may be for the reader.

For someone who has lived and felt fly fishing since childhood, recovering those sensations, those emotions, that thirst for exploring, those nerves, that anxiety, and even those beginner mistakes, is priceless.

It’s being a child again. It’s returning to when everything was new, and you spent the nights awake thinking about tomorrow’s fishing day. When the rivers stimulated your imagination, and the fascination for water was born, when everything was a dream. Now, I call it New Zealand.

Article from Focus on the Fly Media, Alvaro Santillán. Find him on Instagram at @focusontheflymedia. 

Check out the articles below:

Planning Your First Trip to New Zealand – Big Picture Tips from Jenny Tates

Watch These Mice Get Smashed by New Zealand Brown Trout

Costa Films Presents: Hooked On: Redfish

Dan Zazworsky
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Costa Films Presents: Hooked On: Redfish

Just in time for our favorite flood tide season, Costa has released “Hooked On: Redfish,” an adventure along the coasts that redfish call home. If you love the sight of that blue-tipped fin splashing behind some spartina, this one is for you!

From Costa Sunglasses:

Narrated by Costa Pro Capt. Carter Andrews, ‘Hooked On: Redfish’ takes viewers on a fishing road trip from the outer banks of the coastal Mid-Atlantic to the famed Laguna Madre of the Lone Star State. At each destination, you’ll hear from local guides on what their area has to offer, and what strategies they employ to find success on the water; but beyond merely covering areas and tactics, ‘Hooked On: Redfish’ gives viewers a taste of the regional fishing subculture revolving around America’s most beloved inshore gamefish.

What is Costa’s “Hooked On” Series?

Costa’s ‘Hooked On:’ series explores the storied species that have captured the attention of anglers for generations. Whether renowned or ridiculed, almost every species has a loyal following tracking its every move.

Continue

Doryland, A Fly Fishing Adventure in the Northern Pacific

Patrick Perry
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Doryland, A Fly Fishing Adventure in the Northern Pacific

The fog stuck low to the ground, and the tops of the Douglas Firs could be seen over the inversion of clouds. The beach felt warm and with each step, the humid salty air filled the lung cavities.

The wooden dory boat was loaded up with fishing gear, and the light peaked over the horizon. We hopped in the boat and the deckhand positioned it directly into the waves, the captain fired up the engine, and we jetted forward into the surf.

“Hold onto yourself.” yells captain Rob Perkin as the wooden dory boat smashes through a big wave and slaps the flat water behind it. The boat speeds up once the wave break was cleared, b-lining towards the fishing grounds. The hull of the wooden dory slapping the waves away as the motor got on step.

Flies were tied onto sink tips and cast out behind the boat. The motor kicked as the wooden boat trolled through the deep depths of the dark blue pacific. The target species were rock bass, an abundant species found off the Oregon coast. Typically schooled up, these fish pulled hard, shook with all their might, and also taste pretty wrapped up in a tortilla.

The bite was good this specific morning, as we trolled through and stripped flies through the deep water, catching rock bass after rock bass until everyone on the boat had limited out. Double-ups were common and there was even a triple-up at one time. The smaller fish were let go and the bigger fish we harvested. The amount of tug these 3-5 pound fish gave the 8-weight rods proved that these fish were born and bred in the deep blue sea.

The North Pacific is no joke, from “Rogue Waves,” and “King Tides,” to “Atmospheric Rivers”. Not to mention the sea life, big gray whales, Dungeness crabs, lingcod, schools of rock bass, and a variety of pacific salmon species lining the coastal reefs. Great white sharks and even Orcas, had shown up at captain Robs fishing grounds. And another 20-30 miles away, were tuna grounds where you can target tuna on the fly.

This area of the pacific is a playground for a select group of boaters, “The Dorymen.” A group of boaters that originated over 100 years ago, the Dorymen now consists of over 250 boaters that all have one thing in common, a Dory Boat. Captain Rob and the other recreational dory guides work together from finding fish to making sure safety is a top priority. The ocean can be unforgiving but the camaraderie of the Dorymen is hard to break.

After limiting out on rock bass, the wooden dory boat headed farther off the coast in search of finding coho salmon. The large masses of salmon cruise the Oregon coast in the summer and early fall as they prepare to enter the freshwater systems to begin their breeding rituals on the rivers. Rob’s goal was to intercept the chrome bright fish with big gawdy pink flies and sink tips.

Ross Reels Evolution R Salt Reel matched with the Airflo Cold Saltwater Sink 7 Fly Line.

Unfortunately for us, strong south winds colliding with our primary north currents were creating rough seas to navigate in the wooden dory boat. With our limits of rock bass for the day, we cruised back to the beach where we started that morning.

Rob used his radio to call into the other “Dorymen” to see where he could land the boat on the beach. They gave him a specific line based on what the tide was doing and recreationists in the water. Rob lined up behind the wave break until the boat was ready for the landing. He kicked on the throttle and pushed into a wave break just like a surfer as they paddle into a set. The boat gained speed as the wave was breaking and Rob had the throttle engaged.

The wave began to crash the dory boat slid forward ramming the beach at high speed. The sandy beach absorbed the power of the wooden boat as the tide surrounded the boat. A job well done by the captain. Read on below for the full interview with Rob Perkin.

There is a deep bond between an angler and their boat. For Rob Perkin, his bond with his boat “VISION” runs a little deeper than most. In 2020, Rob left his longtime career to guide fly fishing full-time. Rob and his wife spent much of the COVID lockdown hand-crafting a Wooden Dory that was destined for the sea. After our day on the water with Rob, we were lucky enough to ask him some questions about his guide service and operation.

Flylords: How did you become a dory guide?

Rob: I’ve grown up fishing from a dory out of Pacific City. For over 35 years it’s been in my blood and I’ve always wanted to share this amazing fishery with others. There aren’t many places in the world where you can launch a boat off the beach and be on great fishing grounds for rockfish and salmon within minutes. Our long-term plan was to relocate to the coast in a few years and begin guiding full-time. Like it did for many others, COVID changed our plans and made us reflect and expedite our plans to start an outfitter business.

Flylords: You and your wife built the dory you guide out of, what were some of the biggest challenges with this project?

Rob: My wife and I had built a few other drift boats together prior to the Pacific City Dory. You may need to ask her, but I feel we work very well together and enjoy the process, most of the time. The biggest challenges to building the dory were primarily around the size of the boat and the tight timeline we were working with.

Flylords: How many labor hours went into the build of the boat, any tips for other boat builders out there?

Rob: We have over 500 hours into the boat and there are still items I’m adding and changing. It’s likely this will always be the case.

Airflo Depthfinder Big Game Fly Lines Ready to Rock

Flylords: Other than rock bass, what other species do you guide for in the Pacific Ocean?

Rob: Currently I guide for Coho and Chinook salmon, Rockfish and Lingcod.

Flylords: Are you able to harvest the fish you catch? Is this sustainable from a fisheries standpoint?

Rob: Due to diligent work being done by The Pacific Fishery Management Council, ODFW and onsite fisheries employees that monitor effort and catch we’re able to retain rockfish, select salmon and lingcod. I believe the work that’s being done by these agencies has created a sustainable fishery we’re able to enjoy.

Flylords: In Pacific City, Oregon where you guide you are part of an association of “Dorymen,” can you talk about the camaraderie of this group?

Rob: The Dorymen’s Association was founded over 20 years ago with the primary focus to work with the local community to educate and maintain the dory tradition which started over 115 years ago. There are currently over 250 active boats that call Pacific City home and the fleet is a tight-knit, welcoming group. We have an excellent safety record out of Pacific City. Much of this can be attributed to the community and how we’re always there for others.

Flylords:  What is your go-to setup for dory fishing the pacific ocean?

Rob: For Rockfish I like a 7wt rod. The fish can be anywhere from on the surface to down 30+’ so I carry rods rigged with everything from floating lines and poppers to the fast sinking Depthfinder Big Game lines or Coldwater Sink 7 line from Airflo. For the salmon, we use similar lines on 7 and 8 wt rods and matching reels. When we target ling cod we’ll switch to 9 wt. setups with fast sinking lines and heavy clousers.

Thank you to Rob for the time! Be sure to check Rob out online HERE, on his Instagram at @connectoutfitters, or call or text 503.308.1448.

Photos by Toby Nolan, check out more of Toby’s work on Instagram at @t.nolan.imagery. 

Article by Patrick Perry @patperry.

Be sure to check out Airflo’s full line of Saltwater Lines HERE.

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How to Get Involved with Trout Unlimited

Dan Zazworsky
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How to Get Involved with Trout Unlimited

If you are a passionate trout angler, there is no better way to get involved with trout conservation than a Trout Unlimited membership. Your membership supports the science and boots-in-the-water fieldwork and gives you access to your local TU chapter and the work they are doing. Many of us here at Flylords began our fly fishing journies while involved with Trout Unlimited on some level whether via the Trout Unlimited Costa 5 Rivers program or simply membership in a local chapter. Getting involved with TU is a quick and easy process and one that will only yield dividends for your local fishery, and the world of trout conservation as a whole! In the brief article below, we will go over how to get involved with the organization today!

How to Get Involved with Trout Unlimited

Step 1: Stay in the Loop!

Sign up for TU’s free newsletter and we’ll take you into the field, introduce you to people making a difference, and keep you in the know about how you can stand up for America’s rivers and streams, whether it’s the Snake, the waters of Bristol Bay, or your own secret headwater.

Join Trout Unlimited’s Newsletter today!

Step 2: Take Action!

Now that you’re in the Loop, find ways to take action in your local watershed. Interact with your local chapter for service projects, and fishing trips, and connect with fellow members. You’ll be surprised by what you will learn and who you learn from!

Learn More About Taking Action!

Step 3: Find Your Local Chapter!

This step is super easy thanks to TU’s “Find Your Chapter” tool, as there are 387 chapters nationwide. Being an active member of your local chapter is likely the most rewarding part of a TU membership. Whether you’re attending membership meetings to learn more about your local fishery or getting your hands dirty doing in-stream conservation work, inside every TU chapter there is something for everyone looking to make a difference and grow as an angler and a conservationist.

Find Your Local Chapter, Here!

Other Ways to Get Involved with TU 

TU Costa 5 Rivers

The Trout Unlimited Costa 5 Rivers program is a network of more than 100 TU-affiliated college fishing clubs around the country focused on conservation. As the capstone of the Trout Unlimited Headwaters Youth Program, these clubs seek to engage current and fly fishers-to-be on their campuses nationwide.

Through their affiliation with Trout Unlimited, clubs plan and participate in a series of events/initiatives in conjunction with their local TU chapter. Upon completion, club members earn access to the student discount program from participating industry partners, thereby reducing the prohibitive cost curve of entering the sport.

In fact, several of us here at Flylords got involved in the fly fishing industry through our time spent in 5 Rivers chapters.

If there isn’t a 5Rivers chapter on your campus, starting a chapter is as easy as sending an email to FTate@tu.org!

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Trout Week Featured Artist: Paul Puckett

Dan Zazworsky
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Trout Week Featured Artist: Paul Puckett

We are sitting here with Paul Puckett for Trout Week’s second-annual Artist Spotlight. We’ve already done a couple of interviews with Paul, but we’re going to jump in and talk a little bit more about what trout fishing means to him and how they fit into his artwork and his lifestyle.

Flylords: Paul, what was your first interaction with the trout, and did it involve a fly rod? What was that first experience like?

Paul Puckett: Yeah. Yeah, I mean, it would probably trace back to, I would probably say 1989 or ’88 actually in Missouri when we took my grandmother on a little trip to Lake… In Branson, Missouri, there was a place called Lake Taneycomo, which is actually a part of the White River and it’s so dammed up that they called it a lake, but it’s moving water. It was a river. There were these trout out there rising. I just learned how to cast a fly. I just couldn’t cast it more than 20 feet, and these fish were just all right at about 35-40 feet out. It was so frustrating, but I loved every second of it. It was something that challenged me and made me want to get better.

So, trout were the first species that made me catch the bug of fly fishing. Then I would say the first time I finally caught a trout in a dry fly was in the summer of ’93 on the Pecos River in New Mexico. I caught a little 10-inch brown trout on a little mountain creek with an elk hair caddis. Then after that, it was over for me. I knew my future was going to be fly fishing and that was it. It has been ever since.

Flylords: After that, has the dry fly bug persisted in you?

Paul: Yeah, I mean, there’s nothing like a western stream or even an eastern stream and just seeing, walking down and scoping out the creek and then just seeing that head come up and eat some sort of dry fly, then you spend the next five minutes trying to figure out what that dry fly’s going to be, what you’re going to use, and then finally casting to that fish, and making them eat the dry fly. There’s just nothing like that experience for sure. Whether you’re a full ingrained salty bone fisherman by now, you still can always come back to that stepping stone of catching a trout with a dry fly.

Flylords: Do you think that the sight fishing element of trout is why redfishing in the low country connected with you so much?

Paul: Yeah, sure. Yeah. It’s one thing to see a tailing redfish and catch the tailing redfish. It’s a one-step process. But the cool thing about trout fishing, is you get a little bit deeper involved. It all comes from the entomology aspect and the bugs in the river. What’s crawling around? What’s hatching? What stage are they in? If you throw a full-blown Mayfly pattern, well they might be feeding on cripples or emergers. There’s just so much more involved and if you learn all those steps and the patience that it takes to do that, I think that makes you a lot better fisherman and angler no matter what you end up fishing for in the future. But yet, just that visual aspect of seeing all that happen and then taking the layers apart and figuring it all out.

Flylords: Through your decades of fly fishing, what one trout fishing excursion or trip has stood out to you the most?

Paul Puckett: Probably when I was lucky enough to go down to Argentina about five, or six years ago. I fished with the Patagonia River Guides crew. It wasn’t the fishing itself, I don’t think it stuck out that much more than a great trip to Montana or Wyoming. But it was everything in between, like getting to those spots and being in a truck with the raft in the back and hardly seeing anyone else out there in that country. It reminded me of what Montana might have been like back in 1890 or 1910. That stood out the most to me. Not so much the actual fishing, but just the adventure of going to the put-ins and fishing and not seeing another boat or another person all day long.

Flylords: What has been your favorite place in the US to chase trout?

Paul Puckett: When I lived out in Wyoming for four years, the Snake River’s great, but all the little feeder creeks and little slews and beaver dam stuff that feeds into the Snake are usually where I found myself spending the most amount of my time. Hard fish and hard-to-catch fish, fish that have all the time in the world to come up and inspect your fly, and getting those fish to be tricked was my biggest challenge and ended up being pretty successful in the end. I spent a lot of time just crawling down behind some tall grass and just being two feet away from a cutthroat trout that is just sitting there sipping emergers. I could just be two feet away from that fish and had no idea I was there. I would just watch and study that activity. I learned a lot from that, just studying the fish eating, not even fishing for them. Those little feeder creeks to the Snake are definitely where I would probably if I had one last place to fish and I knew that was the case, I’d probably go back there and fish for those cutthroat trout in those little streams.

Flylords: How have trout been involved during your decades of fly fishing and your career as an artist?

Paul Puckett: I think the first thing, the first thing that pulled me to paint fish was trout because there are so many different colors, like a rainbow trout, just a spectrum of colors in a rainbow trout. Here I am with these paints and there’s no real right or wrong way to paint that rainbow trout because if you were to take it out of context and look it at you, you’d be like, “This has to be a joke. There’s no way this many colors and beautiful shades of red and purple are in these fish.” So I think trout drew me definitely towards painting. Brown trout are amazing, cutthroat brook trout. There’s just the array of colors and things that are going on with them. They’re just so much fun to paint.

Flylords: What lessons did they teach you along the way where your painting was involved?

Paul Puckett: Yeah, yeah. I mean, the first ones I would do back in the nineties, how I got started were painting people’s fish and most of them were usually trout. I guess the lesson was that just, it taught me to see how every fish was so different, the markings and the shades of color, whether two rainbow trout were caught out of the same river. I learned that stuff when I was painting people’s fish and it taught me just to look closer, and more detail, and let’s not just paint a rainbow trout, let’s paint this rainbow trout that this guy’s photo is. It teaches you to look at all the little imperfections on the fish and all the different little markings that make each fish individual.

Flylords: You’ve talked a lot about rainbows. What do you think the most challenging color palette is amongst the trout?

Paul Puckett: Yeah. Not just the color palette, I would say just the markings. I was going to say brown trout, but brook trout probably because you do a rainbow trout and a brown trout, and most of the markings are dark on light. For Brook trout, the markings are light on dark. So with watercolor, you have to figure out a way to put those light colors down first and paint around them, and the second you paint over one of those spots, it’ll never be light again. Because watercolor, you can’t go back and just add white to it, and you paint the light color stuff first and just start working around it. It’s very time-consuming and very nitpicky. But brook trout are probably the most challenging to paint in that regard. If you do it right, they just look beautiful.

Flylords: Do you think the statement, “Trout don’t live in ugly places,” holds? Or do you think the fish might be more beautiful than some of the places they swim?

Paul Puckett: Yeah, I mean, it is true though. I don’t think… I mean, I can say probably when I lived in Texas, some places where they stock trout probably weren’t the most beautiful. But in Dallas and Fort Worth, it’s like they put them in a park and you can catch them, it’s fun. But when it comes to wild trout, I don’t think there’s such thing as an ugly place they live and yeah, it’s hard to compare it. Is the fish more beautiful than the place it’s in? It’s all kind of a package deal I think. We’re just lucky enough to be able to seek out those adventures and go do them. It’s just, trout are the most beautiful creatures in the world to me.

Flylords: How many of your more iconic journal entries feature trout?

Paul Puckett: I would say I’m not quite half and half, but when I go out west, which is pretty often, most of my journal entries are typically when I travel. I do them every now and then here, just red fishing in the backyard. But most of them are when I travel. So a couple of years ago when I did the whole month out in Montana, a lot of my journal entries are travel stuff and landscape stuff, river drawings. Then last month when I went to Wyoming for the one fly, most of the stuff in there is about trout. I mean, we’re probably close to half and a half…

… if I’m not saltwater fishing. But yeah. My challenge is when I draw a trout in my journal I don’t have colors, it’s all pen ink, but how can I portray that and shade that to where your imagination can take over and bring those colors out in my mind?

Flylords: Do you think there’s a difference between the emotional and creative juices that get going when you’re fishing, whether it’s salt water or trout? What inspires you in the saltwater side of things versus in trout? Is it a different mindset?

Paul Puckett: Yeah, yeah, I’d say so. To me, trout is more calming, more hearing the wind through the trees, the grass, and the bugs. It’s more of a calm down and let’s take in that that between fish, let’s just enjoy the day. Salt water to me is more like war. It’s more of a battle. You’re just battling the tides, the wind, the currents, the fish, and the sharks.

It’s two different mindsets for sure. I think they both come out in the paintings that way when, yeah, it’s just in trout, the best thing trout did for me personally was getting all of the I need to catch a fish out of my system. Because when I lived out in Wyoming, I fished so much and I caught so many fish and I just fished, I fished, I fished. Now, when I go fishing, I don’t have that feeling that I have to catch a fish today. I’ve gotten that out of my system. I want to just enjoy the moment, whether it’s trout or saltwater and I can enjoy watching someone else catch fish, or I don’t have to catch a fish at all because now what I typically do more of is saltwater fishing. It makes life easier that I’ve caught thousands of trout and they were good to me in that sense.

Flylords: I want to shift a little bit to your connection to the Snake River. Obviously, that watershed is a big topic for Trout Unlimited, and pretty much every stakeholder in that watershed. What has the Snake meant to you and how do you feel and hope for the progress being made there?

Paul Puckett: Yeah, I mean, it’s gone through a lot of changes as far as since I lived there, but I feel hopeful. There are a lot of good people out there doing what they can, whether it’s TU or other organizations that are always on top of it.

Learn more about the challenges facing the Snake River, here!

Flylords: Let’s say you’ve got two days to go trout fishing in the southeast, where are you heading?

Paul Puckett: Yeah, I’m probably going to go ahead and call the White River still in the southeast. Because that’s the river I grew up learning how to trout fish on in high school and college and it’s just such a cool place. I don’t get to be there as much anymore because it’s out of the way for me. But I would say the White River, just from a foundation aspect, and then up probably your way up in Pennsylvania with my father-in-law, when we go up there and see my wife’s family, we get in the truck, we drive about 30 minutes, we just hopscotch around different bridges and creeks and go down and catch a fish, move on to the next spot and that kind of stuff is special to me for sure because he loves doing that so much and it gives him the feeling that he’s showing me his water. So that’s a lot of fun.

You don’t typically usually remember a certain fish, but I remember stopping at a little sidebar and having a beer and I knew that I went fishing that day. But that’s the stuff in between that is usually what you remember the most.

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Trout Week: Trout in the Arts

Dan Zazworsky
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Trout Week: Trout in the Arts

Trout have inspired artists for time immemorial with their seemingly endless color palette, graceful lines, and mysterious attitudes. Whether the artist is capturing the image of a trout or the experience of fishing, the results are stunning when put to paper, canvas, blown glass, ceramics, or whatever medium an artist chooses. As a part of this year’s Trout Week in partnership with Trout Unlimited, we thought we’d share our favorite interviews with fly fishing artists from over the years!

Trout Week Featured Artist: Paul Puckett

Artist Spotlight: Tim Johnson

Artist Spotlight: Piper Nunn

Faces of Fly Fishing: Derek DeYoung

Artist Spotlight: Joe Mangiafico

Artist Spotlight: Remington Robinson

Artist Spotlight: Rachel Lubarski

Artist Spotlight: Sarah Landstrom

Artist Spotlight: Andrea Larko

Artist Spotlight: George Hill

Artist Spotlight: Shelly Marshall

Artist Spotlight: Dan Burr

Artist Spotlight: Ed Anderson

Artist Spotlight: Casey Underwood

Read more interviews with talented fly-fishing artists, here!

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CO Trout Unlimited Recognizes Mayfly Outdoors with Exemplary Industry Partner Award

Dan Zazworsky
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CO Trout Unlimited Recognizes Mayfly Outdoors with Exemplary Industry Partner Award

From Colorado Trout Unlimited: 

On Saturday, October 22nd at the Colorado Trout Unlimited (CTU) annual Rendezvous at the Hotel Colorado in Glenwood Springs, Mayfly Outdoors accepted the Exemplary Industry Partner Award. This award goes to an industry partner who shows dedication to CTU’s mission to work to conserve, protect, and restore Colorado’s coldwater fisheries and their watersheds.

CTU noted Mayfly Outdoors’ work on their local Uncompahgre River projects, custom reels that give back to conservation programs including abandoned mine restoration, and Mayfly Outdoors’ long-term vision for sustainability and continued conservation partnerships. “Mayfly has brought incredible vision and commitment to coldwater conservation as an integral part of their operations, and we are pleased to honor their efforts,” said CTU Executive Director David Nickum.

Jeff Wagner, CEO of Mayfly Outdoors accepted the award in person and said, “We’re very appreciative of this recognition and are excited to continue our support of what we see as necessary to support you, the angler, and the health of our rivers.”

Mayfly Outdoors is a Certified B Corporation headquartered in Montrose, Colorado, and its mission is to inspire adventure. Their brands include Abel Reels, Ross Reels, and Airflo Fly Lines. Visit their website:

Colorado Trout Unlimited is a non-profit organization with more than 11,000 members across Colorado in 23 local chapters, working toward a shared mission to conserve, protect, and restore Colorado’s coldwater fisheries and their watersheds.

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Boots on The Ground: Jeff Wright

Joseph Berney
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Boots on The Ground: Jeff Wright

For this Boots on The Ground series, we head to North Carolina to meet with Jeff Wright and get involved with a culvert removal and improvement project. Jeff is Trout Unlimited’s Southern Appalachians Project Manager. Follow along to learn more about Jeff and some of the projects he’s working on. 

Flylords: Can you tell us a little bit about yourself?

Jeff: I grew up on the outskirts of St. Louis, Missouri. While we were close to the suburbs, we lived in a much more rural area. At one point, my family had about 200 acres and I spent a lot of time playing around in the woods. As I got older, I got to see the impacts of urbanization as a lot of open space was converted into subdivisions and shopping centers. I think this connection to nature combined with seeing the tangible impacts of development really fueled my interest in conservation. After high school, I attended Truman State University in Kirksville, MO, receiving my BS and MS in Biology with a focus on wildlife. My intentions have always been to have a career in conservation but the path there has had some unexpected turns. My family moved to northeast Tennessee in 2015 for my wife’s job and I was looking for a way to get involved with a conservation group and do some hands-on work. That’s how I got involved with Trout Unlimited. As the common story goes, I volunteered for the local board and soon after became chapter president. This experience combined with my educational background and work in volunteer management helped me land my staff position with the organization.

Flylords: Can you tell us why the Southern Appalachian Brook Trout is so special? 

Jeff: The thing that makes Southern Appalachian Brook Trout stand out to me is that they have been able to stay on the landscape despite humanity throwing a lot of challenges their way. Native fish in the Southeast have made it through the eras of unsustainable logging, acid rain, and a barely regulated mining industry, and are still here. This is our connection to hundreds of thousands of years of brook trout populations that came and went without human involvement. I think that type of connection with ecological history is very meaningful. I personally believe that we should take action now to rectify some of the impacts society has had on these types of native species.

Flylords: What is the goal of the Alarka Headwaters Project? 

Jeff: The goal of this project is to address one of the remaining issues for Brook Trout, connectivity. When any road crosses a stream, there must be some sort of crossing structure there. Traditional structures focused on handling water volume but did not address the ecological function of the stream. Many times, crossing structures like corrugated metal pipes create a head cut and become perched above the stream. Fish and other aquatic species cannot move through these crossings and the population is essentially cut in two.

On Alarka, we are replacing a double CMP crossing with an open-bottom arch. The open-bottom arch is wide enough to span beyond the banks of the stream and has a natural stream bottom running through it. Not only does this allow for better connectivity, but these crossings actually handle flood-level flows better and pass materials like downed trees better. Additionally, this project should reduce the amount of sediment coming from the road and entering the stream.

Flylords: What challenges have you faced trying to restore this native habitat? 

Jeff: Funding can be a major challenge. It takes a good bit of money to get the work done and TU taps into a lot of different sources. For this project, we have support from Dominion Energy Foundation, Little Tennessee Native Fish Conservation Partnership, Tennessee Valley Authority, Mainspring Conservation Trust, Wildlands Engineering, Eastern Brook Trout Joint Venture, North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission, and National Forests in North Carolina.

Our work also tends to be in tough-to-reach areas. That creates a lot of logistical issues that you might not have in spots that are easier to reach.

Finally, there is no shortage of work to do. You have to be able to identify the high-priority projects so you are spending money in the best way possible.

Flylords: You have done work all over the Southeast protecting this fish. How have you seen populations respond to projects TU is working on? 

Jeff: We don’t often get to see the tangible products of our work but there is a lot of research out there that shows the benefits of reconnection and sediment reduction. It is neat to see Brook Trout moving through a place where they previously could not.

Flylords: What is the overarching goal of TU’s work in the Southeast? 

Jeff: To advance TU’s mission for native and wild trout in the region. That mission is bringing together diverse interests to care for and recover rivers and streams, so our children can experience the joy of wild and native trout and salmon.

Flylords: How can people get involved in the projects you are working on?

Jeff: Get involved with a local chapter. We try and work directly with chapters who are interested in the areas where projects happen. Chapters are good at letting their members know about upcoming opportunities and promoting the work staff are doing. We couldn’t get many of our projects done without these grassroots volunteers. 

Thank you Jeff for sharing your work with us on an incredible fall day in the South! If you are interested in getting more involved CLICK HERE.

All Photos from Dave Fason.

Boots on the Ground: Jessica Strickland

Boots on the Ground for a Free-Flowing Lower Snake River

 

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