Brian Koch started Ultimate Upland in 2010 to be the most comprehensive resource for upland hunting enthusiasts. Since then it has grown into a community where bird hunters congregate and share their love for the sport. Koch strives to be the hardest working bird hunter in the country and aims to reach hunters and fans with detailed accounts of Ultimate Upland adventures.

When wild bird hunting seasons end it leaves a pretty large void in our schedule. Both the dogs and I must cope with the withdrawals from time afield and adjust to the looming summer doldrums. Seven months is just too long to rest on laurels. I always dread that final day of hunting, but this year I started planning well in advance to help fill the vacuum.

Over the winter my nephew Zach researched and reported on medieval weaponry for his sophomore high school English course. Given the current climate for anything weapon related in schools I was actually somewhat amazed the report didn’t land him a suspension or on the terrorist watch list.

I’m blessed with an abundance of nieces and nephews. When one expresses an interest even remotely related to my passion I run with it. In my mind catapults and claymores are precursors to the modern tools of the trade which I use all hunting season. You have an interest in swords; let me tell you how that relates to upland hunting. I’m fairly certain there are few topics safe from my associating to pursuit of birds. I suppose the ease of which I make creative connections is likely just a result of recent reflections of my bird hunting legacy.

Blade design is an art that has been around for millennium. Because the basic functions and requirements of the knife haven’t changed since first wielded, it’s a great case study of what people have done to improve it. When I informed our friends at Benchmade about my saber smitten nephew they were quick to invite us on a VIP tour. Benchmade is a leader in modern blade development and they help nurture new concepts by inviting interns to participate in their design process. It is a testament that good ideas can come from anywhere. I find it important to show Zach that besides knives just being cool, there are reasons for form and function. And there are people bringing these concepts to fruition. The power of an idea is a lesson I wish I would have learned earlier in life, but now I get a redo with my nephew. We just have to get from rural Ohio to the Benchmade headquarters in Oregon.

Luckily the end of bird hunting season times up really well with Spring Break. So I’ve wrangled Zach into a cross-country road trip which will cover over 5,000 miles in just 10 days. Along the way we’ll shoot, hike, camp and explore our place in the great outdoors. Wyatt our black lab will join us for some training, entertainment and to keep the varmints from camp at night.  Zach seems excited for the adventure but is likely oblivious to the amount of tutoring I have planned or the posterior pain that comes with infinite days behind the wheel.

It’s early spring so we’re preparing for a mixed bag of elements along much of the route. Luckily Filson recognized the merits of this odyssey and agreed to outfit us for any conditions which we might encounter. From the rugged Rockies to spring torrents of the Pacific Northwest we’ll be putting our new Filson gear to the test as other explorers have for over a century.

There are common threads to most of the great memories from my youth; exertion and accomplishment. Turns out that things that come easy are easily forgotten. The current trend toward sedentary existence puts a generation at risk of having no formative tales. My hope for this Off-Season Odyssey is that my nephew learns observing life will never be as satisfying as seizing opportunity.

It’s the eve of our departure and the gear is loaded. At the crack of dawn we’ll pour into the truck to start our first 16-hour day of driving. Somewhere in Illinois we’ll stop for a round of sporting clays to stretch the legs. And here Zach will learn another lesson: even with the faster reflexes and better vision that accompany youth, you can’t outshoot your uncle.

Maine-based Rhon Bell of Backwoods Plaid, takes Filson on a record-setting ice fishing trip.

Fishing is my ultimate connection to nature, so it’s without hesitation that I agreed to a two-day ice fishing trip with long-time friend and Registered Maine Guide, Steve. Within an hour I booked a rustic cabin conveniently wedged between two remote lakes. One lake offering traditional targets of trout, salmon and white perch. The other, pickerel and bass. Most would choose to fish only waters with prized trout or salmon, but there is something to be said for fishing waters promising greater activity; we’re told the bass are hungry. With fishing plans in the books – we anxiously await arrival to the countryside.

Staring into the glow of his iPhone, Steve raised his voice slightly above the AC/DC blaring on the classic rock station to inform me, “The snow forecast for day two is 8-10 inches”. Approaching the camp road, I feared that tomorrow might be our only good day of fishing. It’s my experience that fish feed heavily going into a winter storm. “We’ll be fine”, I muttered and turned off the truck.

Day one offered a beautifully sunny afternoon. Other than an Easterly wind, conditions were enjoyable. We brought three White Perch to the hard-water surface. Each ranging between 11-14 inches. Beginning with a few traps set near bottom we hoped of luring a fat brown trout from a ledge. Others were strategically placed just under the thick ice in case a good-looking salmon were to pass by. Seven hours on the ice were well spent and as grey clouds rolled in, we called it a day. Proving to be amateur meteorologists, a heavy wet snow began falling by the time we arrived back to the cabin. Tomorrow would be the real test.

Quarter to five, I rose and began percolating the Folgers. Peering from behind the cold kitchen window revealed a few inches of fresh powder. Perhaps today wouldn’t be as bad as anticipated. By the time we reached the second lake, snow began to really accumulate. We setup the portable ice shack to provide a refuge from mother nature. The lab we brought along chose to avoid the shack like a plague – there is evidently nothing to explore within the four nylon walls.

We hadn’t setup our fifth tip-up when a blaze orange flag rose. The line spun furiously from the reel as we lifted the trap from the depths of the ice water. Whatever fish was on the end liked to fight. We slowly peeled line onto the ice and watched the line dart back and forth in the depths of the hole. Within moments we surfaced one of the largest bass I’ve ever caught. Weighing in near 7lbs, we quickly snapped a photo and returned him to his native waters. This trend continued all afternoon, large bass after large bass. Each played a good game of tug-of-war. However, we only lost one to not setting the hook just right. Outdoor-sporting chatter was enjoyed as we each learned from the others experiences and laughed at our greatest mistakes.

As the forecast proved accurate and the ten inches fell, we watched from within our warm shack and agreed we’d chosen the right piece of water. The joys of spotting flags rise for hours on end is second to none. As always, two days in Filson gear kept me warm enough to take pleasure in the outdoors. A base layer of Filson Mid-weight Long Johns, an Alaskan Guide Shirt, and Whipcord Wool Pants were the perfect choices.

Forest Eckley and Andy Whitcomb are local furniture designers who use reclaimed wood from the Pacific Northwest and build everything in Seattle.  The two frequently find inspiration exploring the Cascade Mountains and are always up for a new adventure.

Photography by Mr. Patrick Richardson Wright

At the end of Highway 542 in the North Cascade Mountains is a place called Artist Point. We’ve been reading about it for the last couple of years, and finally found a free date with clear skies to go check it out.  We brought along a map, compass and some turn-by-turn instructions from an old trail report, but on a sunny winter day, all we really needed to do was hike towards Mt. Baker and avoid the barrage of downhill skiers near the trail-head.  The views from the upper parking lot are immediately jaw-dropping, however, they don’t compare to the vistas available from the top. After just 3 miles of snowshoeing we were surrounded by the jagged peaks and blue glaciers of Mt. Shuksan, Coleman Pinnacle, Mt. Baker, and the Ptarmigan Ridge.

Hiking directions from the Washington Trail Association:

To reach Artist Point, you’ll need to start at the upper parking lot of the Mt. Baker Ski Area. Head towards Mt. Baker on the access road to Austin Pass, as the road switchbacks to the left at the top of Austin Pass, you can take a shortcut to the right and through meadows before you rejoin the road at the 2 mile mark, then follow Kulshan Ridge a quarter mile to the left and up to Artist Point, a broad area where you can clearly see Mt Baker, Mt Shuksan, etc.

Brian McGeehan is an outfitter and owner of Montana Angler Fly Fishing based in Bozeman, MT.  Brian is also an avid international angler and leads annual trips to Argentina, Chile and the Bahamas.

Golden Dorado

Golden Dorado are native to South America in a relatively small geographic region that includes Northern Argentina, Uruguay, Southern Brazil and some small pockets in Bolivia.  Most of the fisheries are located in the Paraná River and its tributaries.  There are also a few pockets of the species in Bolivia at the headwaters of the Amazon basin.  Dorado are river fish and have a similar profile to that of a salmon including an adipose fin.  Golden Dorado are fierce piscivores and aggressively take large streamers.  They are fierce fighters and nearly always jump when hooked.  Golden Dorado have not been transplanted out of their native range and they have only come onto the radar of international anglers in the last 10-15 years.  Although some of the largest Dorado are caught in the larger Paraná River, many fly anglers choose to target the fish in the relatively few locations where clear waters prevail.  Catching a large, strong and aggressive Dorado in a river that resembles a trout stream is truly a rush.  Imagine fishing for small tarpon on the Madison!  The primary locations that support guided Golden Dorado fishing are the new Tsimane Lodge in Bolivia, the Salta region of Argentina and the Ibera Marsh at the headwaters of the Corrientes River.  Most of the fishing at Tsimane and Salta is wade fishing on smaller clear rivers.  There is also a large river, the Rio Juramento, near Salta that is floated in rafts for trophy Dorado.  On our recent trip south we split our trip between Patagonia and Northern Argentina where we targeted the Ibera Marsh which offers a unique clear water fishery accessed by Bahamas style flats boats.

Pira Lodge
Pira lodge is located in the Corrientes province of Argentina which is sandwiched between Brazil and Paraguay.   The province is known for its colorful people and traditional music.  We took a first class overnight sleeper bus which was surprisingly comfortable with large leather chairs that lay flat into beds along with bar service and meals.  After sleeping on the bus all night we arrived refreshed in Mercedes and were greeted by the lodges transfer driver.  Pira is located on the edge of the vast Ibera marsh system and the drive is about an hour an half from Mercedes across rutted dirt roads.  The lodge itself is spectacular with an array of insects, huge toads and countless colorful birds making a never ending raucous chorus each evening.  After settling in we met with Noel and the guides.  Noel was the head guide for over 13 years at Pira and then went on to start Tisamane Lodge in Bolivia and is one of the most respected Dorado anglers in the world.  Unfortunately the news on the fishing front wasn’t good.  All of Argentina had just endured an unusual three week stretch of very wet and cold weather.  Dorado are a warm water fish and become lethargic in colder waters and just like trout they don’t love rising flows.  Despite the disappointing news we were determined to give it our all.

Pira Day 1
With the unexpected conditions and higher flows, Noel and the guides felt our best shot at fish was to go down deep in the main Corrientes river channel.  Pira is known for its floating line fishing and aggressive surface takes but with the cooler water it was unlikely that the Dorado would be very active and certainly not on the surface.  At the end of the first day, we hit pay dirt and Anthony and I each hooked and landed two nice 5-7lb Dorado in the waning hours of the evening before heading back to the lodge.  The fish are absolutely amazing and hit like a sledgehammer.  The fight is just as impressive as these incredibly strong, trout shaped fish leap over and over and take off on blistering runs.  When the Dorado are landed their magnificent gold flanks and orange and black tail cap the experience.

Pira Day 2
The fishing at Pira is broken into morning and evening sessions.  Each day we headed out in flats boats through a labyrinth of small channels.  The marsh ecosystem is spectacular with over 350 species of native birds of all shapes, colors and sizes.  The birdlife was absolutely spectacular and I can’t say I have ever been to an equal location in this regard.  In addition to the birdlife we regularly saw large crocodile like Cayman and huge rodents called capybara.  Day two produced some very tough fishing and although we all had a few hits and follows no Dorado came to the boat.  Noel came along on day two and he and Anthony scouted some of the smaller tributary “creeks”.  These are small channels through the marsh with current just like a spring creek and very clear waters.  While scanning from the boat they successfully located a lot of large Dorado in the system which lifted our spirits to at least know the fish were there.  One of the challenges of the high water in the marsh is the fish are spread out and often relocate so finding the fish was a welcome discovery.

Pira Day 3
The morning fishing continued to be frustrating with a lack of success.  With each hour of futile casting our team began to lose hope in the prospects of hooking the golden fish.  Occasionally our hope would be lifted by a follow or take.  I lucked into a hefty 7 pounder at the end of the morning and that was the only action to report.  In the evening session I was solo with Noel and we decided to try some of the smaller creeks where they had seen some fish the day before with a floating line.  We finally started to see the marsh begin to wake up in terms of fish activity and spotted a few Dorado rolling from time to time.  Noel explained under normal conditions Dorado are frequently rolling and attacking bait fish in explosive disturbances than are easy to spot.  This seemed to be a good sign and sure enough the action followed.  By the end of the night I had hooked into 5 Dorado and landed two along with several large piranhas and an interesting fish called a San Antonio.  This still wasn’t on par with the regular catch rates which average 4-10 Dorado per person per day but it was great to get a taste of what the fishing can be like.  The takes on the floating line were a huge rush and it was incredible to see the Dorado in the clear water producing a wake as they attacked the fly in a huge boil.  Unfortunately, the other boat didn’t find similar success on the larger river down current.

Pira Day 4
The rains that started the evening before continued into the night and eventually turned into sustained downpours.  The amount of rain that fell was unprecedented and a true spectacle of nature.  The swimming pool that was 18” from the top the day before was overflowing in the morning.  The marsh grew before our eyes and huge lakes formed in all directions around the lodge.  We gave up all hope of fishing in the torrent and focused our attention on getting out across the dirt roads early enough to catch our sleeper bus.  Our amazing hostess Marcela decided to have the shuttle drive arrive 5 hours early to play it safe.  When he was an hour late she loaded us up in her own truck and we started heading out hoping to meet him on the road out.  The roads were terrible and just a few minutes from the lodge we were driving across flooded areas.  Marcela crept along and stayed ruts to avoid sliding off the slippery clay road.  After 30 minutes of progress our hearts sank as we came around a bend and saw the road completely under water as far as the eye could see with a Toyota Hi-lux truck nearly underwater in the ditch.  It looked like our stay at the lodge would be extended for several more days.  There were some local gauchos around and Marcela went out to talk with them.  It turned out that her husband was the one that lost the truck in the flood but he was the manager of several estancias in the area and had guessed we were coming.  Our transfer driver was waiting on the other side of the flooded road and the gauchos let Marcela know that they could ferry us across.  The next thing we knew we were horseback and praying these horseman were confident in their assessment of the waters.  The current was swift across the road and the level came up to the horses bellies.  We had to ride at a bit of an angle so the horses could ferry into the current.  After the longest 500 yard horse ride of my life we made it safely to the other side where our drive awaited.  The gauchos crossed the flood again to retrieve our luggage via horseback and we were off again.  Just when we thought we were out of the woods we encountered another flooded section (the water had been rising since the driver had come from town).  It wasn’t as bad as the other stretch but still very intimidating.  We all held our breath as the truck headed into the flood with water coming in through the doors.  It was a very quiet cab until we finally made it across the last obstacle safely.  Nearly five hours later we finally made it to the bus station with only minutes to spare!

Article courtesy of the Rocky Mountain Bushcraft team, which consists of founder/writer Jason Schwartz and editor Leah Klocko.

Jason Schwartz is an axe-wielding, modern day mountain man.  Lover of gourmet food, a good joke, and the way the steel rings true on a good vintage axe bit.  He’s also a Red Cross certified Wilderness First Aid Instructor, music aficionado, and known to some of the locals as the “Bear Grylls” of his area.

Leah Klocko oversees the country music landscape of Pittsburgh as a radio personality when she’s not editing articles about testing a new bushcraft knife or surviving in the wilderness.  She’s a local actor and costumer who’s learning how to use an axe, strike a firesteel, and search for pitchwood tinder; which gets her some rather strange looks in the suburbs.

The Swiss Army knife corkscrew has long been maligned as a useless wilderness tool (unless you’re a wine drinker of course), but it’s actually great for undoing stubborn knots. It easily weaves into a tight knot after which it can be used to gently pull it apart as shown:

Ok, so you’re convinced the corkscrew has worth, but you’d still like to have a Phillips head screwdriver on your Swiss Army knife (which the corkscrew replaces). No problem, just use the Swiss Army can opener for Phillips screws:

Words by Judith O’Keefe
Photos courtesy of Burkheimer Rods

I love casting a fly rod.

That used to be all I’d have to say.  It was generally assumed I was referring to my single hand rod, and I was.  I learned to fly fish on the Deschutes River, casting a sink-tip fly line as far as I could, hoping to entice a steelhead to the fly.  Six months later, just months into my initiation, I was comfortable with larger rods and longer casts.  Why would I want to learn to cast a double-hand rod?  I’m not what some would refer to as a “gear-freak.”  I don’t need a lot of stuff.  In fact for me, less is usually more.  I’m not one to follow the latest craze either, so I really didn’t see any reason to put down the trusty nine and a half foot, 7 weight.

“Here was a stretch of eighty-three days without catching a fish.  I know quite well it cannot be beaten.  Here is a record that will stand.”  — Zane Grey.

I have not beaten Mr. Grey’s record, and as far as I know, it still stands, but a few years back I was in a steelhead slump.  The frustration set in and the more I tried, the worse it got.  Was it the wrong fly, the wrong fly color?  Was I fishing too deep, not deep enough?  And that back-cast seemed to hang up in the weeds more often than not!  I needed a new strategy, an attitude adjustment and a double-handed rod, or as they are commonly called, a spey rod.

Some of my closest friends are spey casters.  A few even hold national and world records. Some people never learn to cast a single-hand rod, they just use that double-hand rod in every situation.  Not I.  I don’t aspire to break any records and most of the time, my single-hand rod will do the job nicely.  But when it comes to many larger steelhead streams, my spey rod and I are going to become fast friends.

This past fall I was fortunate to fish with the owner of the C. F. Burkheimer Rod Company, Kerry Burkheirmer and his son, Carl.  Not only was I impressed with the way those guys could cast, I was equally impressed by the rods they were casting.  And I was quick to accept Kerry’s invitation to take a tour of the rod shop and take a spey casting lesson on the beautiful Washougal River.  A few months later, I drove past the fallow wheat fields of northeastern Oregon, crossed the mighty Columbia River into Washington state and eventually found my way west to the town of Washougal and the C. F. Burkheirmer rod shop on Main Street.  All Burkheimer rods are designed and built “in a little shop, in a little town, along the banks of a very big river.”  That afternoon made a believer out of me. Each of their five rod builders brings that old world, craftsman frame-of-mind, into that shop every day.  I’ve handled my share of fly rods and toured more than one factory, and I have to say that their attention to detail and finish quality, border on the obsessive.  They say they strive to make only the most exceptional fly rods, and I have to agree, they are truly outstanding.

I am now the proud owner of not only a CF 8128-4 (12 foot 8 inch #8) Classic double-hand rod, but also a CF 795-4 (9 foot 6 inch #5) ST, single-hand as well.  I’ve had a few lessons, and I need to get in some serious practice time, so as soon as my pond thaws, you’ll know where to find me.  Then it’s North Umpqua River, here I come.

Words and Photos by Rhon Bell of Backwoods Plaid

A smile spread quickly across her face on Christmas morning as she ripped the tape from the top of the cardboard box and pulled out a green-checkered Alaskan Guide Shirt. I had seen that big smile two days earlier, on our sixth year anniversary, when without her expectation, I proposed on bended knee in front of our parents at a surprise dinner that was weeks in secretive planning. I’d traveled 6 hours North two days earlier just to ask her father’s permission. Both her father and Gabrielle, my new fiancé, said “yes.”

As a post-holiday get-a-way, I planned a 5 day lakefront cabin retreat in the woods of Maine for us to escape all the stresses from a Christmas week booked solid with family events and obligations. This would be our time to enjoy life’s simplicities: test out new snowshoes, fly down a surprisingly steep hill on flying saucers, and merely watch the snow fall. Oh, and to warm ourselves by the fireplace while enjoying the fire in her new diamond.

I admit that I bought her the Filson Alaskan Guide Shirt for selfish reason. I own the men’s version and I thought it would be humorous that we could match. Of course it will keep her warm on fall hikes and while ice fishing in the harsh of winter, but it would be particularly important today. I knew heavy snow was in the forecast and the lake was beginning it’s slow winter freeze-up so I invited a photographer friend out to snap a few photos of us for Save-the-Date’s (or wedding invitations, if you will). I couldn’t have planned a more perfect afternoon for a walk along the edges of the frozen lake. The combined beauty of nature and my future bride, the sparkle in her eye and the laughter as I hoisted her onto my back for photos, all culminated to remind me of why I love spending time in the outdoors, no matter what the reason.

All of this puts a great story behind an amazing shirt. What’s the story behind your Filson?

Words by Judith O’Keefe.

Last May, I wrote about a trip I took to our nation’s capitol as part of a contingency of sportsmen and women gathered together by Trout Unlimited/Save Bristol Bay.  We descended on Washington D.C. to ask our elected officials to support the Environmental Protection Agency in it’s effort to utilize the Clean Water Act to save the Bristol Bay watershed in Alaska from a proposed massive open-pit mine.

Trout Unlimited has just issued a statement expressing its disappointment in learning that, as of Feb. 5, the EPA has decided to conduct a second, potentially lengthy, review of its Bristol Bay Watershed Assessment.

Tim Bristol, Alaska Program Director for Trout Unlimited, responds, “While we appreciate this Administration’s efforts to survey the risks and impacts of large-scale mining on the world-class natural resources and fisheries of Bristol Bay with sound science, the EPA has already gone above and beyond the letter of the law in drafting its Assessment and conducting an independent and transparent review of it.  This added delay is unacceptable to Bristol Bay’s communities and stakeholders, and leaves a dark cloud of uncertainty hanging over Bristol Bay’s 14,000 jobs and its commercial and sport fishing industries.”

As one fellow supporter of Save Bristol Bay put it, “It is the classic example of the relentless pressure that extractive resource corporate lobbyists can put on the government, even when the consequences are going to be disastrous.”

It now seems the need for EPA action is even more apparent as a result of recent attempts in Alaska to ease mining regulations and make it easier for the proposed Pebble Mine to move forward. EPA action is the only way to ensure that reasonable restrictions are in place to ensure the health of Bristol Bay’s watershed, jobs, sustainable industries and unparalleled recreation.

Please join me and other sportsmen and women as we continue to make our voices heard on this issue of unparalleled importance.  To find out how you can help, visit Trout Unlimited’s website here.

Red Gold | trailer from FELT SOUL MEDIA on Vimeo.

Make sure to share this article with your networks, friends, and families.  This is an extremely important conservation topic right now, and we need your support.  Agree or disagree?  Leave your comments below!

Peter Patenaude, a registered Maine guide, has been a Filson advocate for over six years. His blog Boot & Canoe, focuses on traditional skills and Maine’s outdoor heritage. Peter shares some tips for a successful snowshoe hare hunt with you.  Find them useful?  Make sure to leave a comment below!

At the end of a fresh snow, there is nothing more fun than to chase snowshoe hare through a stand of thick evergreens.  This is certainly a much easier and more productive activity with a set of trained dogs, but can also be done with a few willing people.

I never grow tired of snowshoeing out on top of a new white blanket and finding that first set of tracks to follow.  Not only is this a great way to get some much needed winter exercise, but it is a very exciting chase that will certainly bring camaraderie to a hunting party.  After the hunt, it is short and easy work to clean the snowshoe hare and get it into a pot.  I have always found it hard not to stew the meat as it becomes tender and sweet tasting after a long day of slow cooking.  Here are some tips that can be useful for a first time snowshoe hunter:

1. Wear a full brimmed hat.  You will be thankful when snow is not falling down the back of your neck while you are busting through the covered branches.

2. Wear eye protection.  As I have mentioned before, eye injuries are very common in the woods and spruce/fir trees are full of small dead branches.

3. Be the beagle.  Have one hunter act as the dog and push through the brush while the other waits and looks for the hare’s movement.

4. Carry a plastic bag.  It would not be pleasant if the hare released its bladder into the game pouch of your jacket on the walk out.

5. Watch the circle around you.  The hare will not leave familiar grounds and will work around a large circle of its territory.

6. Blow a whistle.  If the hare is running, blow a whistle and it may stop to see what the noise was.  I find the sound of my shotgun will stop him just the same.

7. No mess.  When cleaning the hare, I do not cut open its stomach. After skinning, I remove its legs and the meat running down its back.

8. Cook with fat.  It is a very lean meat, so stewing a hare with bacon or duck makes for a tasty meal.

While fly fishing on one of the West’s most famous steelhead streams, outdoor enthusiast Judith O’Keefe is reminded what makes this particular pastime so special.

Photos courtesy of Kelly James.

This past October, a group of eight anglers met at a cozy lodge in the Blue Mountains of Southeast Washington, just outside the tiny town of Anatone.  Besides wheat production, Anatone – named after a native Nez Perce woman – is not really on anybody’s radar screen, with one exception, those interested in fishing for steelhead. This town sits perched on the banks of one of the most famous steelhead streams in the Northwest, the Grande Ronde River.

This annual gathering meant that the usual cast of characters would come together with high hopes for a few excitement filled days of fly fishing for steelhead.   Those of you familiar with the sport know that one or two fish landed a day is considered good fishing.  Often, an angler can swing flies for days and never touch a fish.  There are many reasons that account for such fishless days.  It could be a lack of fish in the river, river conditions or simply operator error.  And then there’s the luck factor.  In my view, all fly fishing success is part skill and part luck.   With steelhead, you clearly want Lady Luck on your side.

I’ve put in my share of time on the water, and I know how it goes.  Identify the run – wade, cast, wade, cast, wade, cast, and if the fish are there and the fish gods are smiling, you might be in for one of the greatest experiences life has to offer, via a fly rod.  So with great expectations, the eight of us, divided into four drift boats, set out early each morning.  Our guides were exceptional, our equipment was top of line and our favorite flies were all neatly arranged in our boxes.   A couple of the anglers even had some exceptionally smooth single-malt in their flasks and suggested they would be willing to share when we all met together mid-afternoon.  Success guaranteed, right?   Now remember, we’re talking steelhead.  In three days, there was just one fish landed, and the credit goes to the most tenacious of the group, Harry.  It was a beautiful hen and boy was Harry proud, happy, and satisfied; as he had every right to be.   Harry had worked hard for that fish . . . wade, cast, wade, cast, wade, cast.

Now you’d think I would have driven away from that river feeling disappointed, even unlucky. On the contrary, this trip will go down as a favorite, and not because I caught or didn’t catch a fish.  On that beautiful fall day, as I drove along the back roads towards home I understood why this trip was so special.   Some anglers fish because they enjoy the solitude; me, I like the camaraderie and shared passion found in a group of friends “on a mission.”  Second, the scenery was extraordinary.  And last but not least, I knew once again, the joy and peace found in the simple act of immersing oneself in a river and casting a fly rod.

Perhaps if I’d caught a fish or two, my trip would have been over shadowed by the victory.   Bragging rights demand that the story must be relived – again, and again; the cast, the hook-up, the jump, that long downstream run and how in the end, I so skillfully landed that beauty.  Oh, and the “hero shot” to be emailed out to all those interested and some who are not.  Amazingly, I avoided all of that hullabaloo and as a result, gained a greater appreciation for nature and friendship.  And the burning question is: If given the chance, would I trade places with Harry?  I’ll let you ponder that one for yourself.