Spring Consumed!

Well I mowed the lawn yesterday.  Spring is finally here, but not final.  It snowed today! The trees we planted last year are starting to blossom!  I'm simply happy that they didn't die during the winter.

Busy! Busy! Busy!  I was already chasing spring way back in Dec. in pursuit trout.  We definitely took care of the itch during the cold season.  If I could give any advice to cold weather anglers to make your outings more pleasurable, it would be to keep a pair of  "hand warmers" in your pockets.  They are cheap and so effective at conducting heat into your hands.  Also of note, I camped out a handful of times this winter. The next best thing to having your loving companion next to you, is to sleep with these hand warmers.  You will likely end up tossing your warmers out of your bag, removing your hat or sleeping bag hood.  When you have these guys in your bag the chore changes from attempting to maintain heat to regulating it!  What a wonderful problem to have in below freezing temps!

Now I'm sure your are more interested in this winters photography records.

New ball cap design I put together, SOLD OUT! Thank you all!

My buddy who sticks fish and puts together some Sweetness in Graphics, he is called Mike Larsen.

Seam Shot! by Jordan Gilbert of Crimson Jaw

 This Little Piggy! Photo by Jordan Gilbert

Runnin' Shot by Cortney Boice

Carp Photo by Scott Jackson

 Photo By Phil Tuttle of OutSmartingFish.com

Bloody Pike Photos By Colby CrossLand of TheTroutSmith.com

 The Crimson Duo haulin' slabs!

 This Photo by Jordan Gilbert of Crimson Jaw

Photo by Jordan Gilbert

The Gall

Check in with CrimsonJaw.com for a solid Steelhead Post!

Good Day Sir!

A great day on the water and I was lucky enough to have a great camera dude on the boat as well.  David Komatar of Way Back When Pictures, was present to collect our experience.  The angler is a dude we call Colby Crossland.

Kudos Dudes! Thanks for furthering my cause!

Without further ado!

Masochists

I couldn't believe the most recent post here is all the way back in September.  Unbelievable!  The fall leaves have flown as has the time.

Plans were set.  Jake and myself had found a day that we could both be on the water pursuing Tiger Musky.  Another friend, Derek, and myself sent a phone call out to Jake from the boat ramp late in the morning.  Jake who had been serving time behind his rod all morning in pursuit of Tiger Musky met us in short order.

 As he rounded the shoreline into view, a musky size net sat  perpendicular to his person across his back.  The net bag was clearly carrying a burden. One not typical of a fishing net.  My first guess was that Jake's shore lunch was too large to fit in his pack and he had made convenient use of the depressed and empty net.  It was clear when he arrived at the boat that he not only brought the tools and skills to entice an eat from a Musky but he was building karma to close on a musky as well.  His net was full of garbage and flotsam! Boom! Look out musky, you will eat! TODAY!

Fast Forward.

Musky appears, Beast!  It seems that it has just come off a good run at Jake's fly.
No eat.  Musky! Here! Gone!

Fast Forward.

The boat crew has now built to 4, with the addition of Phil.
Jake's fly has not been out of the water long enough to catch its breath.  If his fly were a terrorist, it would have relinquished any information Jake asked of it and then started to fabricate information long ago.

"Here's one!
 Here's One!
 Here's One"
said Jake.

I looked over the gunwale from the console and there it was.  Nearly 4 feet of it!
All 4 of us, now peering over the side intently, studying every move this marvelous fish was making!
All 4 of us, peering over the side intently, studying every move Jake's fly was making!

The musky was on the verge!  4" of water was the only obstacle preventing the musky from ending Jake's fly.

Jake killed his fly and let it sink.  The musky maintained it's 4" buffer!

Jake accelerated the fly.  The musky maintained it's 4" buffer!

Jake figure-eighted his fly.  The musky maintained it's 4" buffer!

These scenarios repeated over and over again as the boat coasted about 50 yds.  All 4 anglers, hearts pounding out of their chests, leaning over the fly and musky, absolutely enraptured!

After an extremely short eternity the monster settled back into its abyss, leaving a boat full of shaking knees and pounding chests!

MUSKY!  One word, shouted as both an expletive and a jubilation!

Terribly awesome!

So much success and so much failure experienced in the same moments.  A truly fearsome monster raised from the depths with craftsmanship, skill, and karma. So close to capture and so far.

Truth be told, what a wonderful fish to take four grown men back to the youthful anticipation of Christmas morning only to rip it from their grasp!

The musky can give you everything you've ever desired of fishing and take it all in the same moment.

And we LOVE them for it!

PS.
Karma collected this day!  Jake stuck a hog musky 20 mins after the rest of us hit the road! Some people deserve fish.  Not only because what the fish means to them personally, but because they have put in the work, time and effort to be rewarded.  Musky are-----Work, Time, and Effort!
Congratulations Jake!

You can find more of Jake's good work at The Colorado Trout Devotee.

Derek and Phil are part of a site known as OutSmartingFish.com.  They put together tremendous content!

Other World!

I'd been itching for a Grayling trip. As things began to line up, I had one of my oldest friends in town from HI.  We woke up one morning and hit a REI garage sale to see if we could score a few things that we "absolutely needed," ha.  As luck would have it I found a righteous deal on a down bag and my buddy collected a few items as well.  Good start to a great outing!
We hit the trail in the afternoon and started the relentless uphill climb in search of Arctic Grayling! By its name alone the fish conveys something "other worldly."
Years ago it was this "other worldly" quality that relentlessly beckoned to me.  After quite a bit of research I settled on a group of lakes that seemed to be my best option for a local-"out of this world" fish.  It was these lakes that gave my wife her first fish on a fly rod, an Arctic Grayling! These fish and this place hold a strong place in my soul.
Enough of that tangent.

We continued our march.  Realizing this trip, unlike trips past, that there is beauty in the journey.  We marched intermittently enjoying the pleasures of our surroundings.  Trips past have been all about the destination and the fish.  To a large extent fishing is always the motivating factor through the miles, I rarely hike at all unless there are fish included in the destination. This is most likely why I did not remember the hike being so vertical, my only memories were of the fish and the lake.

I am lucky to be passionate about such a thing as fish.  They are very generous, both as table fare and often take you to the most beautiful places this earth has to offer.
Up and up!  Passed lakes, passed people. The trail peetered out into braided game trails.  We'd arrived! One lake, NO people! Ideal!

We surveyed the water as we prospected sleep sites.  The lake seemed to be barren!  We set up camp and strung the rod.

Down to the waters edge! The only sign of life thus far had been scattered tufts of Mt. Goat hair.  Wait, add one bleached mule dear skeleton.  As the sun set the water began to communicate fish locations.  I worked my way towards an end of the lake nestled below a cirque.  Structure began to reveal itself and I placed a peachy, little soft hackle, with a golden bead head just off the deep side of a submerged boulder.
Lighting struck! Not in a jerk-the-rod-out-of-your-hand kind of way, but just as sudden!
The evening light burst from the Grayling's fins as it attempted to liberate the soft hackle from its fluorocarbon path.

The remainder of the evening followed this theme.
We surrendered to the invading darkness and stumbled back into camp to share memories and updates of families gained.
I hit the sac this evening tired and rejuvenated.  An existence only mountains, fish and dear friends can conjure.
Thank you Father.
 By: Targhee Boss
Utah Fly Fishing Guide
Utah Grayling

Out with Dad

It had been a little while since Dad and I were able to hit the water together.  We exchanged schedules a handful of times and we weren't able to sync.  Well,  things came together and we put a day on the calendar.  I picked dad up at his place in the late morning and we hit the road.  I was hoping for thunderstorms in the late afternoon, and the forecast looked promising.

In the truck we talked; work, family, and of course fish.  We chugged up into the mountains and slipped down into Pineview Reservoir.  We started seeing fish in the usual spots.  Dad was throwing a massive, gaudily gorgeous fly. My rod was rigged with a relatively small, plain fly. 

I could see the tip of a tail peeking out from beneath some structure.  Unable to determine what fish I was looking at, I cast to find out.  My rig hit the water, strip, strip! The fish shot out from its shelter and ate!  

Fish on!  I really put the wood to the fish for two reasons.  

First to keep the fish from breaking me off in the structure.  

Second, the water temperature has really climbed.  

Fish generally tolerate being hooked in the face quite well if they are handled properly and quickly. But if high water temperatures are present being caught can be a real downer for a big fish!  

Dad netted the fish in short order.

We snapped a few pictures and sent the fish on its way.

We continued to fish.  We caught quite a few crappie and one nice little Smallie.  This smallie was by far the heaviest (by fight, not weight) smallie I have ever caught.  I thought is was definitely a musky until it showed itself at the surface.  What a stud of a fish!

Thanks for being Awesome Dad!

Utah Fly fishing Guide

Targhee Boss

Photography by Drake Munson

Drake sent over some photos from a few weeks back.  Thanks Drake!  Skilz with the Lenz!

Report: Frozen Fingers to Warm

Cold Start this week!

Two Old boys getting it done!

 First pike smiles!

DROP FIN AND SWEET MAC

SWEET MAC!

 Slow start.  Windy. Rainy.  It took us a while to find the fish today.  But once we did it was a fairly good bite.  We were able to bring 15 to hand, none of which had a lot of size to them.  It seems as if a few of the females have already dropped there eggs. Dad is now convinced the Echo Ion is the Shiz-nit! He wanted to buy it right there on the boat. I really like the rod.

 DOUBLE!!

 Today's biggest. Love the drop pectorals!

 Optimus Prime Leader of the Phelix Legions has been coming along quite nicely in fishing etiquette. 

By: Targhee Boss

Rocky Mountain Pike Conclave

Here I sit reflecting on the past two days on the water.  Day one we drove through wind and rain to arrive at the same on the reservoir.  We geared up quickly and hit the water in anticipation of large, hormonal, piscivorous fish.  Bouncing across open water was brutal.  With every wave we bounced over I was soaked.  The wind blew each hull splash over the gunwale and into my face.  We ran quickly to a sheltering cove where we found another group of fishermen huddle around a camp fire.  Brent must have been itching for a pike pretty bad, because as soon as the bow of the boat hit ground he was off and throwing shots from the shore.  Shane did the same from the stern deck and beat the surrounding cover soundly.  The storm subsided enough to venture out of our sheltering cove and endeavor a search of the larger bay.  Brent and Shane fished hard, wet, and most likely hungry!  Real fishy dudes here!  I think the only thing they stopped casting for all day was to ensure that their waders didn't become too "pleasantly warm/wet."  We were rewarded.

 Find Shane Thomas' report here, Fish Hunter Chronicles.  Find Brent Wilson's report here, Uprising.

Photography: Brent Wilson

By Targhee Boss