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High Country Haven

By
Jared Zissu
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It’s the place that I look forward to fishing the absolute most. When I’m stuck inside in the dreary blur that is winter, hiding from feet of snow, there’s a mental countdown I have; hashing out the days until the high country will once again be accessible, thawed, and ready to fish.

I struggle to share my passion of fly-fishing in the backcountry with social media. It’s this back and forth mental argument I have with myself. Are these places that are so sacred to me and my family deserving of what could be unworthy eyes? Are they worth sharing photos of? But I’ve convinced myself that in the hearts of the public are where these places belong. By shedding light on their untouched beauty or by drawing more people out in search of them, these places stand to be protected. Now more than ever, our public lands deserve the limelight to shine bright on how truly special and completely irreplaceable they are.

My husband caught his first fish on the fly, a native Colorado River Cutthroat, when he was four years old. He did this in a place that so few people in the entire world know of, you could probably count them all on one hand. Years later, he would choose to be baptized in the same high mountain stream. I find my heaven on Earth way up in the mountains of Colorado, where Cutthroat swim in the same stream they have for likely all of their existence. It’s a place that fills my heart with such warmth that can only be replicated by the taste of the sun ripened wild raspberries that grow alongside its bank. Its frigid, snow melt water quite literally takes my breath away as I wet wade up its winding course. I could forever be happy catching fingerling fish the colors of the setting sun, never tiring of their delicate wonder. Miles in with sore feet and heavy shoulders, I feel most alive. I feel cleansed of city living. I feel closer to the Earth. This is the place that my husband first took me to learn to fly fish, and it’s where we’ll take our son when he too is ready. My first fish was a native Colorado River Cutthroat, my son’s will be too. And one day I hope my ashes will be spread here to become a part of this remarkable landscape, for I will be home.

My love for and my attachment to a place like this comes from something deep rooted and I believe, ancestral. The places we fish and the places we hunt are meant to hold such weight on our souls. They’re meant to be kept sacred for a reason. Back when my ancestors roamed the Northern Plains, their hunting grounds were their livelihood. For me, my fishing grounds are where I find solace. They’re where I go to rid my eyes of all the atrocities mankind is capable of making of his surroundings. Nature always seems to do right by the Earth, but such is not always the case for human nature. As sportsmen and women it is our responsibility to leave places like the high country better off than how we find it, so that future generations can bask in all its glory as we have been able to. Taking up a hobby like fly fishing and enjoying it to its full potential comes with the responsibilities of being a steward for the environment.

“If all the beasts were gone, men would die from great loneliness of spirit, since whatever happens to the beasts also happens to man. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the Earth befalls the sons of the Earth.” -Chief Seattle, 1835

Gabi Suggs is a public land advocate, fly fishing fanatic, wild game cooking enthusiast, and all around outdoors addict. She splits her time between her native New Mexico and Colorado where her husband plays soccer professionally. For more of her incredible adventures and words of wisdom, check out her Instagram!

Hunting Wolves

By
Jared Zissu
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Anglers often associate Colorado with it’s pristine trout streams and high alpine lakes full of eager trout, but underestimate other aquatic inhabitants. An angler can devote their life to mastering the light tippets and delicate presentations required for trout. Nothing wrong with that. Diversifying the species you target helps to push anglers to work on different techniques. Targeting Pike on the fly helps to improve your distance and casting form. If you’ve ever Pike fished, you understand that hours of casting large flies and heavy rods outweigh the amount of fish you hook. Stripping the fly line until deep grooves form on your trigger finger. Honestly, fly fishing for Pike is not the easiest species to chase; although we continue to chase these elusive fish. Is it for the chance of hooking a trophy fish? Maybe it’s the thought of chasing the top dog of the lake. For me, it’s chasing a fish that I may or may not meet. It’s the challenge that gives me the motivation to continue casting in the worst conditions. Every pike that I land I can’t help but wonder how nature has perfected a true freshwater predator.

Pike are exceptionally picky. Nothing quite gets the heart pumping like getting your fly stalked by a shadow all the way up to your feet. After awhile though, it becomes rather frustrating dancing with a skeptical pike that decides last minute to bolt into the deep. The only thing you can really do is change up your fly and strip faster. Stripping the fly line as fast as you can until you are able to spot your fly just a few feet in front of you. The best part is when you see the glistening white mouth open up inhaling your streamer. There’s a moment between seeing the eat and actually feeling it, where your brain is telling you to relax and gear up because it’s about to be chaotic. And then the line comes tight. Attempting to get the line under control while applying a solid hook set is when reality sets in. It feels as if you’ve snagged a submerged rock, but the fish takes a hard turn ripping out line as it dives deep confirming your in for a battle. You never quite understand the true power of a pike until your ultra-fast action 8 weight is bent far beyond you could imagine. The best part is you think you’re in control, but what you fail to realize is that the fish has home field advantage. Pike are smart. They understand that to fool an overconfident angler they must drive you deep in the marshy weeds where they find a way to slip your fly. If you’re able to steer the pike away from the underwater hazards, you at least have a fighting chance. It’s not every trip that you land one, but it sure does feel good when you do. You can’t help but shake uncontrollably from landing that fish because it’s truly incredible. Even better is getting to watch that fish swim away giving you a little shower as it slowly disappears to the deep.

If you ask anyone who targets pike on the fly, they will tell you specific patterns and color variations that are tried and true. To me, it’s not about the color or size of the flies but how they appear in the water. It’s all about the presentation to the fish. Many anglers prefer smaller flies for certain times of the year but the articulated flies are a necessity. Tying your own articulated flies help to ensure the presentation of the fly appears the way that you want it. Adding additional materials or heavier materials to different sides of the fly gives the fly more of a struggling fish appeal to pike. That’s what I strive for. Make your fly appear as an easy meal to the fish and the number of hookups will increase. Remember it’s presentation over fly selection.

If there is one thing you get from this article it’s that pike on the fly is challenging but it’s rather rewarding when you finally get that fish. Not every outing is going to produce fish but pushes yourself to better your skills. Throw that extra ten feet of line. Straighten your casting arc. You’ll be surprised by your cast the next time you go trout fishing.

 

After living out on the front range of Colorado, Troy felt the need to further his education in the Roaring Fork valley where he has access to some of the most pristine rivers in the west. He spends his off season months attending school and fishing the Roaring Fork, the Frying Pan, and the Colorado River. He spend his summer months guiding for Minturn Anglers in the Vail valley. Even though he hasn’t been in the high country for long, he considers the Vail and Roaring Fork valley’s to be his home waters. There’s something special that keeps bringing him back!

Special shoutout and photography credit to Shannon Outing, Zach Freund, and Enzo Manuel for the sick pictures!

Fly fishing is easy. Fly fishing is difficult.

By
Jared Zissu
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In my intro to photography class, we read an article by a well-known photographer Paul Graham. The article talks about how photography is easy and difficult at the same time. It is easy because people have instant access to cameras via smartphones, tablets, and other portable devices. All you have to do is pull out your phone or other portable device and push a button to capture an image. However, photography is difficult because every moment is fleeting. An image captures time and freezes it forever. Sometimes, people will hesitate to capture time and if they do not capture the moment quickly, it will be gone forever.

After reading this, I started to think about how fly fishing is easy. Sometimes, it’s too easy. I have had days where my friend and I could have slapped down a 25ft cast with a 7.5ft, 4x leader and a size 8 hopper on my favorite spring creek and the fish would still be willing to take my flies. I have had days where I have been on the water back in Texas at sunrise, throwing poppers and frogs at bass in a field of lily pads where I did not miss a single take. It’s days like this that lead to catching 8 pounders with your best friend and laughing away the ridiculousness of the fishing at hand.

I remember one day on my home river back in the summer of 2010. I had been fly fishing for a few years, and luckily, I ended up in the middle of a Green Drake hatch. After just receiving my first lesson on identifying the major insects and their life cycles, I put on a parachute Adams and went to work.

I remember on my first cast I hooked into a decent Brown Trout. I thought to myself that it was just luck, but it happened again and again. I was not sure why I having such a great day on the water, but I equated it to the help from the guys back in the local fly shop. I fished the same run from both sides for almost 2 hours, landing around 15 fish. For a kid who barely landed a few fish on average, I was ecstatic. I thought I had figured it all out. I thought I’d be having days like this everyday on the water. I soon realized that was not the case, but eventually with the help of many, I became a semi-proficient fly fisherman.

These days are few and far in between. When they come, fly anglers can appreciate the peace of mind they bring. Fly fishermen can relax, enjoy their surroundings, and listen to what nature is trying to tell us. They can root oneself in the natural order of things, giving us a sense of peace and tranquility.

So yes, fly fishing can be really easy, but it can also be hard…really hard. I know that I, as well as every fly fisherman, have had days where it has been a struggle to land a single fish.

Last summer, I spent a day in Cheesman Canyon, a place I have done fairly well in and I feel quite comfortable fishing. After getting skunked, I trudged out of there.

Another time, I watched a friend I was guiding struggle to land his first trout on the fly. Eventually, he landed his first trout in Eleven Mile Canyon right before dark on our first day (pictured on the left). All the anguish and stress from the hard work seemed to melt away after that.

These types of days can be frustrating for all fly fishermen, novice and experts alike. They can create a sense of disbelief and stress that should not be present while holding a fly rod. They can force one to be hypersensitive, focusing so intently to his (or her) indicator, dry fly, or fly line that he (or she) ends up missing takes or making sloppy casts, spooking every fish within a mile of you. They can create a sense of urgency, rushing oneself when redoing a triple nymph rig and tying new knots to get your flies in front of a fish again, only to realize you forgot to wet your knot resulting in breaking off the fish of a lifetime.

These days can make any angler want to throw away all their fly fishing gear and pick up a new hobby. I think every fly fisherman would prefer the easier days over the difficult ones, but there is something intriguing about the difficult days. The days of only hooking into one fish that required a lot of work…the days of thinking you have matched the hatch only to find your fly being looked at and then refused…the days of having bass repeatedly slam your top water and not being to get a hook in their mouths.

Now the question becomes, where is the balance between the two? Do you really want to have “easy” days every time?

Every angler is different. Some people will want to catch a hundred fish in a day, and others will want to work hard for one. However, fly fishing is subject to each person’s individual preferences. For me, I enjoy having a combination of both types of days. It’s great to have a day where everything clicks…when you match the hatch perfectly and present your fly delicately to each rising fish with a tactful grace…when you double haul a big frog underneath a hanging tree branch with precision accuracy to find a lunker bass waiting for food…when you sight cast to a beautiful, cruising brown trout and watch him eat your fly with grace.

It’s also a very humbling experience to have to put your work in for a single fish. It’s a humbling experience to struggle to get a solid hook set or to not even get a look from a fish that you know has been feeding actively. These days often make you want to get back on the water even more. These days fuel every fly fisherman’s desire to feel the tug on the end of the line so that they might have consolation in their fly fishing abilities.

All in all, I think every fly fisherman has had a combination of both days. Sometimes things work out, and sometimes they don’t. But that’s the great thing about fly fishing and life in general. Most times, you’ll get another chance. You can go to sleep at night knowing you will have a fly rod in your hand again, whether it’s in the near future or in a year. However, if there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that a single day of fly fishing, whether it be good or bad, can fill our minds with memories and thoughts about fly fishing, giving us enough to daydream about and fuel our imaginations until our next trip.

Tanner Poeschel, The Taylor River Trout Bum, is a creative content intern and ambassador for The Fly Lords. Tanner has grown up fly fishing in Colorado, specifically on the Taylor and Gunnison Rivers. For more of his work, check out his website, Facebook, or Instagram.

Special thanks to professional photographer and videographer Teddy Hoffman! Getting out on the water with Teddy was an amazing experience. When it comes to photographing the outdoors, Teddy knows how to get the shot! For more of his incredible work, check out his Instagram and website.

Western Natives: Two Bros, Grey Skies and the Canary

By
Jared Zissu
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As the winter continues to bring incredible powder days here in Colorado, the choice between hitting the river and slopes continues to be a struggle for the weekend plans. As I sit in class I can’t help but to reflect on one of my favorite fall days of fishing where it felt like fall, summer and winter all in one day. On this particular morning, my buddy Josh and I had enough of our Finance class and decided that the rest of our Friday would be better off if we took a day trip to Wyoming. Living in Fort Collins, Colorado gives a fly fisherman the ability to venture North across the border pretty easily, which keeps him away from the crowds of Denver that head to the mountains on weekends.

As soon as our class ended we packed up our gear as quickly as we could, hit up St. Peters Fly Shop in Fort Collins, and we headed North to Wyoming where we could see the storm clouds moving in the distance.

The multiple Wyoming plains lakes we had access to fish that day offer an abundance of scuds, midges and plant life creating an ideal scenario to produce good sized fish. In fact, after a full day of fishing these waters, we find multiple scuds and midges on our neoprene waders when we take our boots off.

The only thing that wasn’t in our favor at this point in the day was the weather, with a strong chance of rain and snow in the forecast. As the day progressed we ran into strong winds crippling our ability to cleanly present the fly and spooking fish in fine pockets resulting in a few fish encounters ranging between 15”-18”. Luck wasn’t in our favor until we threw on our biggest streamer in the box, which we refer to as “the canary” and had some incredible encounters with fish ranging in the 20”-24” range. These fish would run us to our backing with our 3x tippet and had us running up and down the shore.

After a few PBR’s the wind settled and the sun peaked out for the rest of the afternoon, venturing down the bank of the lake I could see a rising brown that looked like a pumpkin making consistent movements to the surface slurping flies on the water. I did the best I could to match the hatch and on my first cast I was into the brown. The brown came in at 24” and was by far one of the most beautiful fish I’ve encountered.

On the drive out we were greeted by wild horses and a bald eagle swooping through the valley. Easily one of my most memorable days fishing.

Landon Ecker is currently a student at Colorado State University but recently started an Instagram page called Western Natives specializing in high-quality photography and videography focusing on the outdoor space. He runs the page with three of his good friends Josh Lewis, Brian Waugh and Will Baker. Landon was a rafting guide in Buena Vista, Colorado where he developed his love for fly fishing.

Life Is More Fun Playing In The Mud!

By
Kayla Lockhart
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The thing I love most about fly fishing is the challenge that I am faced with every time I step into the water, can I outsmart any fish today? With fly fishing for carp that challenge is set to another level. These “trash” fish will bring the best and worse out of me because of how smart and tricky they are to catch. One of my first opportunities to catch a grass carp was in Arizona. I was new to fly fishing still at the time so I was feeling very excited! I wanted to catch one of these “spooky heifers” to prove to myself that I could do it. I was fishing in a canal that winded and curved through a neighborhood where every midwest grandparent resided. I was on a small boat with a couple friends that new the water and the habits of these grass carp very well. We cruised around squinting at the banks of the water looking for little mouths to slowly come up and chomp on the surface of the water, all while dogs would be running up to the bank and start barking at us. Despite the noisy dogs, I had a few chances to cast my dry fly at a couple rising carp, that is when I realized just how spooky they truly are. First cast, I spot the carp and get excited and make my cast quickly and  as I watch my fly dropping and getting closer to the water I realize that it is going to land right on the fish’s head, and in just that moment of realization the fly lands and the fish darts away and takes all his homies with him!

The man feeding them waved at us, smiled and then began walking away and the fish were all smart enough to know that “dinner time” has ended. They all started to slip deeper into the water, disappearing. I knew I had to make my cast now before they all disappeared. I spot one in the school of about 10 fish, I lifted my fly rod up and cast my dry to the left, above the carp’s head. I see that it landed perfectly! I waited and watched the little mouth slowly opening and closing…getting closer and closer to my fly, my adrenaline starts pumping, I feel the excitement building up as I impatiently wait for this fish to get to my fly. What was only mere seconds, with my excitement taking over it felt like an eternity for this fish to get to my fly!

Here it is, I see my fly and the fish’s mouth slowly open, his head turns to my fly…then BOOM! it happened so fast, in a blink of an eye… I set my hook and grin… just as fast as my excitement came to me it left me even quicker. I had popped the fly right out of the fish’s mouth. This is where “carp bringing the worst out in me” comes in. I turned into a drunken sailor with no filter yelling out every curse word I knew. I was so frustrated with myself, but in hindsight, it definitely taught me not to never do that again! The sun was setting and with the sunlight playing a large roll in carp fishing we decided to bring the boat in. As if being frustrated and being outsmarted by grass carp all day wasn’t enough, as we are getting the boat onto the trailer the trolling motor falls off the boat, it must not have been fastened on tight enough. I offered to go into the water and get it since it was not that deep and I was wearing shorts. I took two steps towards the submerged motor and “swoosh” the thick algae covered cement boat launch knocked me down like a rug being pulled beneath my feet and I fall completely into the water. Needless to say more, I finished the day with some beers to saturate my carp frustration.

I was not going to let that frustrating experience stop me from catching one of these fish. It just made me want to outsmart one and challenge myself to get one even more. I attempted many, many more times resulting in more frustration and no carp. Then, one day I was home alone during my second summer here in Portland. I have not made many friends since moving here so if KC is not around I have the option to go fish alone. With the many strong, slippery and rocky rivers here I decided since I was going out alone that maybe this would be a good chance to finally get my carp on the fly!

It was about 7am when I left to head out to a spot where I felt confident I could spot some common carp. When I arrived I watched the water from a high bank where I could have a good advantage to see the fish without them seeing me or my shadow. It was a bright, very hot day and I could see fish everywhere. Some of the carp were just cruising and there was a few sunbathing, so I knew I did not want to go after those and kept walking and looking. I made my rounds through a couple spots from the bank casting at fish with a few rejections and a few spooks. Another “perk” of fishing for carp is that you are sight fishing for them and typically not in the clearest of waters, forcing you to rely a lot on your senses of touch to know when to set the hook and noticing if the fish does anything different than what they normally would do or if you have the advantage of seeing their gills flare, and even then you can still get it wrong. After moving on from spots where I had no luck I waded out to about knee deep in the water. With myself being so short it can be difficult to not get the sun glare on the water when trying to spot fish but after squinting, with my hand blocking the sun from my eyes I spotted three carp tailing. I waited and watched to see what direction they were going so I knew where their heads were. They were about 40ft out from me, give or take. I cast above and in front of the fish’s heads and waited for my fly to sink, then I slowwwly started stripping my fly in towards them as they were heading towards my fly. I watched them all swim right over my fly without even thinking twice about it… I was not giving up though! I took a few steps to the right and made my cast again and this time Instead of an actual strip retrieval method I was sort of twitching my fly as I stripped in and I watched as one tail stopped right where I believed my fly should be, I felt the smallest twitch in my line and I set my hook in hopes that this time I will have a fish on my fly and not being ripping it out of the water alone once again. Within seconds after setting my reel was screaming at me, peeling line out! I got him! The carp was going nuts! Swimming out and then back in, splashing his tail on the water, giving me the fight I have heard about so many times. I was Screaming and laughing with excitement! I felt so satisfied! I finally outsmarted one of these fish and was having the best time because of it!

As the fish was getting more and more tired I reeled him in close to me. I was alone so there was no handy ‘net guy’, I needed to tail and land this fish on my own. Carp are still spooky and will try and run even after they are tired with a hook in their mouth so after two attempts of tailing and the fish running off I was able to get my hand around his tail and when I went to step and angle my body to grab under the fish with my other hand my boots were stuck in the muck, muddy bottom of the water and I started to fall and all I could think as I was falling to my knees was DON’T lose this fish!! I had my hand still around his tail and pulled the fish towards me in the water as I fell and he was flailing all over the place splashing me. I was getting covered with mud, but somehow I managed to get my first carp on the fly and all on my own!

This memory will stick with me as one of my favorite fly fishing stories and I couldn’t be happier it was with a carp. They remain still to this day as one of the funnest fish to catch on the fly to me, even thru the rollercoaster of challenges, frustrations, and excitement they put me through and when I do get the chance to outsmart them which luckily happens more often now after all the practice I’ve had, the fight they put up makes it all worth it.

Kayla is an ambassador for Redington and Dark Seas Division clothing company. For more of Kayla’s fishy activity, check her out on Instagram! Special thanks to Matt Harrison for the photos!

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Scientific Anglers Amplitude Grand Slam Line Review

By
Jared Zissu
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You can prepare all you want for saltwater trips, but in the end, Mother Nature is going to do whatever the hell she wants. That’s why it is critical to have gear that performs when the moment arises. When you are tucked tight in between a mangrove riddled creek and have one cast to reach the fish right around the bend you need a fly line that is going to load up quickly and shoot with ease.

We found ourselves in that exact situation last week in the Everglades while searching for juvenile tarpon, redfish, and snook. After hours of scanning flats and weaving through creeks we found some snook laid up in a shallow hole thirty feet away. Tall mangroves towered over the boat on all sides, making the cast a little sketchy. No worries, the new Amplitude Grand Slam (AST Plus) from Scientific Angler got the job done. One false cast and let her rip. My fishing buddy on the bow put a nice shot right on target, the hook up was inevitable. The first of many snook we tricked with the help of the SA line. We were amazed by its casting ability.

This line is by far the slickest line we have cast, and that has a lot to do with why it casts so damn far. It’s completely textured from the tip through the running line to help with the bomb casts to moving targets, and overweight to load the rod for those quick precision casts on the flats or in close quarter mangroves. Saltwater fly-fishing is all about capitalizing on the few shots you get. There is not time for fly lines that can’t get the job done. Pick this line up for your next tropical adventure and feel the difference.

Dorn Brown is a Fly Lord’s ambassador and a member of the fly fishing club at Clemson University. Spending his summers guiding in Montana, Dorn embodies the true essence of a trout bum. However, don’t let that fool you. This guy knows how to catch all kinds of fish! From freshwater to saltwater, he does it all! For more, check out Dorn’s Instagram and online blog.

Ruth Sims’ Path to Steel

By
Jared Zissu
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My first fly cast was roughly 2 and a half years ago. When I was 5 my dad put a spinner rod in my hands because he just couldn’t wait any longer for his future (yet nonexistent at the time) son to be born. Little did he know he was planting a fishing seed that would grow and grow with an insatiable thirst. Before fly fishing came to me I had heard of the fish Steelhead trout but knew nothing about it except for old fishing tales my dad talked of. Being born and raised in Seattle my favorite fishing use to be the endless species inhabiting Elliot Bay. When I cast my first fly rod that all changed.

I quickly realized the challenge that it presented. As an electrical engineer, I see the world in numbers. I saw fly fishing as a physics problem with endless parameters and variables and most importantly an infinite amount of solutions. Solutions that I became addicted to solving. I saw it as a problem that I could take around the world and solve it anywhere! About 3 months into fly fishing it occurred to me that I actually lived in a mecca of sorts to one of the most resilient and highly sought after fish: the Steelhead.

The first winter I drove out to the Olympic Peninsula almost every other weekend from Nov-April in search of them. Not even a bite the entire winter. And also I have a confession…every blue moon I would bring out a gear rod and use it. I needed the fix!!! Especially during salmon season, those hos saved my life and kept the addiction alive. Ok, I said it. Back to the glorious steelhead on the fly story.

Winter Season #2

After what was probably one of the greatest pieces of advice I decided I would not pick up a spinner rod even if I went all winter without a bite. A friend once said, “How will you ever catch one on the fly if you don’t use your fly rod?” That kind of stuck in my head, so I chose to dedicate myself to the challenge.

I spent, even more, time out there. Sometimes every weekend I would make the 4-hour drive and fish my heart out. I’d catch cutthroat and sometimes the occasional salmon but never that steelhead. Checking river gauges and forecasts became a morning ritual. Because even if I wasn’t there I could talk with friends and check my predictions that the river was in ideal conditions. By the end of winter number 2, I felt like I had walked/waded the entire coast. Part of the problem was I straight up just wasn’t that good of a fly fisher. I acknowledged that. I wasn’t that good of a fisherperson PERIOD. That’s when I decided well since I know the waters but I’m not good at catching fish I had better practice getting good at catching fish. And that’s what I did. From about May 2016 until just before steelhead season this winter I probably averaged about 2-3 days/week on the water. It worked! I started catching fish. My dead drift was ballin outta control by the end of summer, I could catch fish after fish on the swing given the right conditions and I felt unstoppable. This is progress considering when I started I didn’t know a single person who fly fished and I would spend my days on rivers watching YouTube videos on how to cast while trying to mimic what I saw.

THIS winter.

I knew I was ready. I knew the waters. I knew how to catch fish. I had confidence. Sometimes driving out to the coast I would envision the fish, watch it notice and take my fly and feel the imaginary set. On my first trip of the season, two of my friends joined and on the second day, we took a guided trip with Justin Tenzler. First-day nada. The second day, there he was. My first Washington steelhead. A beautiful rosy-cheeked hatchery.

That kind of adrenalin cannot be easily replicated unless you do it again. So, of course, I went back, we fished 10 hours in torrential downpour and freezing crosswinds without a bite. It was glamorous. Did this make me want to stop? No. It made me want to come back… kind of like a crazy person. And so I came back. My friend An Ren Tan and I booked another trip with Justin he said to meet him at 5:45 AM to head to the boat launch. I had no inkling about what was going to happen in the next couple of hours…that I would not only get my first Washington wild steelhead but that it was going to be the biggest fish I had ever caught…also that I was going to get two of them.

At first, I had no idea I had hooked him. I thought it was a log and so I sort of jerked on it to try to get it loose, that’s when it displaced 15 feet in about 2 seconds and revealed itself in its true glory via a free Willy style burst from beneath. I thought, actually I think I said, “OH SHIT it’s a fish!” even then I didn’t realize what I had come across, I just focused on trying to get it on the reel. I have sort of trained myself not to be too excited about a fish until it is physically in the net. I think Justin and An Ren were quite surprised at how calm I kept as well as the way I played it and took suggestions about how not to lose it! After a battle of what seemed like a lifetime, An Ren netted it. That’s when I lost my shit. It was like opening a present on Christmas morning.

I got out of the boat looked in the net, hands trembling and said, hmmm that’s a little wider than usual. It was love, at first sight, I looked up, all 3 of us smiles from ear to ear. The boys confirmed, “Ruth, that is a fish of a lifetime.” My quest for my first Washington wild steelhead was over and I was on cloud 9.

The cherry on top was knowing that the way these two helped me through the fight and how they were just as excited as I was, meant these guys were automatically fishing friends for life. I am a strong believer in by surrounding yourself with positive people, places and things, good things will happen. Indeed they did. And as an extra bonus, I ended up catching my 2nd biggest fish to date, another wild. And now here I am, I’ve fallen in love with this thing we call fly fishing all over again.

 

Congrats on the monster steelhead, Ruth! For more of Ruth’s fly fishing journeys, follow her on Instagram.

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In Loving Memory: A Fly Fishing Tale

By
Jared Zissu
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DCIM118GOPRO

While reflecting on the memories I have had through fly fishing, I couldn’t help but think of my first fish.  I want to share my story.  I hope that as I do you can not only reflect upon your first fish but think about the memories you have from fly fishing. And if you haven’t had your first fish moment yet, keep going at it!

I had heard about fly fishing from a number of friends over the years but never brought myself to try it. When I was helping my grandparent’s move we had to put some of their things into the storage unit. Among those things was a pair of green, musty, neoprene Hodgeman waders and felt boots, my grandpa’s 9 foot, a 6 weight fly rod, and a 6 weight medalist reel. I always enjoyed firing up the trolling motor on my grandpa’s boat and fishing with him. Unfortunately, these days came to an end when my grandpa was diagnosed with lymphoma and had to sell his boat. With my grandpa’s deteriorating health preventing him from fishing, I thought it would be really cool to learn how to catch something on my grandpa’s fly rod.

I began talking to him a lot, as well as other people about fly fishing and did a lot of research on it. I learned the basic terminology of a fly rod setup….leader, tippet, clinch knot, blood knot, nymphing, dry fly, strike indicator, split shot, floating line, sinking line, etc. I got everything in “fishable order” and headed up to the Provo River. To make a long story short I must have logged more than 40 hours over the course of about 3 weeks of not getting a single fish, let alone a single bite. I always thought for some reason that in order to catch a fish I needed to be in chest deep water. So I remember standing in the water during the late summer evening hatches, witnessing fish jumping all around me. It seemed like they covered all of the surface area of the water around me except for the small surface area that my size 16 elk hair caddis covered. I ended up slowly losing the faith and not bringing my net along with me anymore. I began to give up but I just wanted to catch something so bad on my grandpa’s fly rod that giving up was not an option!

It was on a warm, summer evening when I rigged up my size 16 sow bug (which I have saved to this day) that things changed. I can still feel the consistent tug that occurred as a fish began to violently shake its head.  I was in utter shock when I realized this was no chunk of moss, no stick, no snag in a heavy current, but something with life in it….I had hooked up on a fish!  I can’t describe in detail about the fight because I was stressed out of my mind in trying to get the rainbow over to the bank without having it break off. And because I was losing the faith, I did not have my net so that didn’t help. I didn’t know how the drag system worked and was shaking so bad I could not palm the reel. I ended up getting the fish to the bank and nearly filled my waders as I literally dove into the water to get my hands on it before it took off. I was able to get my friend’s attention to come, witness, that catching a fish on a fly rod was a reality. We measured the rainbow out at 16.5 inches and I was able to get a picture of it for my grandpa. I was on cloud nine as I trudged along the bank in my neoprene hodgemans that were a number of sizes too big. I couldn’t wait to tell my grandpa about it!

The times have changed from going to just get one fish on a fly rod, trying to not get skunked on each outing, to sight fishing a particular fish and catching that particular one.  But it has been amazing to be there to witness the “first fish on a fly rod moment” for a number of my friends and reflect upon my own.  It is a moment all of us should never forget…a moment where if you are like me you don’t think twice about how big the fish was or how many times it jumped…but that you fooled a fish into devouring something that represented a natural bug in a river…cool stuff!

 I am grateful for the lessons I learn through fly fishing, the places it has brought me, and the awesome people I meet through it. My grandpa has already passed on but I cannot help but think about him while on the river.  I have been in instances where it seems at times the fish just are not going for anything. I have learned that we cannot completely control that…but that we can always control whether we have a good time out on the water.  And that is what matters most!

 

Jesse Rawle is a member of the Tug Life Trio based out of the Provo area in Utah. Although Jesse started off self-taught like many fly fisherman, he knows how to fool picky trout. These guys know how to catch some fish! Check the team out on Instagram here.

Photographer Spotlight: Steven Ooi

By
Jared Zissu
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Steven Ooi is the kind of guy that feels more at home in a backcountry tent than in the walls of a modern home. Steve defines home as not where you live but where you feel the most comfortable, and that to him has been the outdoors.

Currently based in Tasmania, Steve is lucky enough to be surrounded by abundant lakes, tarns, rivers, and streams. Here live what some say to be the purest strain of brown trout. Fly fishing will make you a great observer. To have consistent success you need to notice all the details; the timing of hatches, feeding patterns of fish, even how the light reflects off the water. Through the lens, I’m always looking to capture some of these special moments, tell a story and share a common journey that we all experience as fly fishers.

Reaching for the sky a brown on the hunt takes to the air in an attempt to take down some dragonflies.

The mid-air meal with a mouthful of mayfly. The filament tail of a mayfly can be seen protruding from the corner of the mouth. 

Eat it, eat it! The best way to find out how well you tied your fly is to put it before the harshest of critics. That heart in your mouth moment, glad to say the judge approved.

Macro shot of a fisheye. 

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The Satisfaction of Fly Fishing

By
Jared Zissu
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 “Never stop learning, never stop experiencing, and never be satisfied.” This is what I would call an applicable motto for most of us fly anglers. The motivation to fish harder and experience more is what keeps us going and progressing in this sport. However, I dare ask, have you ever had an experience so amazing that it truly satisfied your expectations, hopes, and wildest dream.

This past year I took a trip with two of my good friends Devin Olsen and Connor Murphy. We headed North across the border for Connor and my first ever bull trout fishing excursion. What we found was second to no other trip I’ve ever experienced.

Three days of remote backpacking and fishing lead us to one of the most unbelievable landscapes with some of the most stunning fish on this planet. Our admiration and respect for bull trout and the areas they inhabit increased with every fish we caught, and every mile we hiked.

Catching, admiring, and releasing these fish was both rewarding and humbling. They truly are amazing fish! Sharing these moments with two friends may have been the most gratifying aspect of all.

Fortunately, our satisfaction fizzled as Connor ate his last Snickers bar and we hiked out in the pitch dark. We talked about heading back there someday and discussed the other dream seeking adventure we hope to experience in the future. No doubt the motto mentioned above burns within each of us, with one simple word added: “Never stop learning, never stop experiencing, and never be completely satisfied.”

These guys know how to have fun and catch some fish! For more of their work, check out Gilbert Rowley, Devin Olsen, and Connor Murphy.

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