Lodge Spotlight: Spring Creek Lodge

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February 5, 2024

One word aptly captures the essence of the waters and landscape in Argentine Patagonia: epic. This is a realm seemingly untouched by human influence, where grandeur evokes a primordial era. Its vast expanses encompass harsh tundras, mystical monkey puzzle forests, and towering mountains that exude a purely prehistoric aura.

Junín de los Andes, located in the Argentine Patagonia, is renowned for its exceptional trout fishing. The region is surrounded by stunning landscapes, including the Andes mountains, crystal-clear rivers, and pristine lakes, making it a paradise for anglers seeking a unique and immersive fly fishing experience.

Set Fly Fishing has established an operation here called Spring Creek Lodge. It’s an oasis of small cabins nestled into a lush meadow. A radiant fireplace waits every evening and fresh coffee is delivered each morning. Trout make their home a rods length from the back door in the small namesake spring creek that flows through the property.

You’ll find staff who serves with love and precision, the authenticity of their smiles are a testament to the heart they put into their work. From a bar serving cocktails you’d struggle to best in the center of NYC, to gardens of iron and fire where fresh local meat is seared using authentic patagonian asado techniques, you’d be pressed to conjure a more luxurious evening.

The fishing opportunities around Spring Creek Lodge are vast and plentiful. The operation has curated float trips, walk and wade fishing and lake fishing. My advice? Do it all. This is a place where boredom ceases to exist. There’s truly something for everyone.

Float Trips at Spring Creek Lodge

Floating the rivers of Junín de los Andes is a streamer junkies dream. Don’t get me wrong there’s plenty of dry fly fishing, but this is a way to cover a lot of water in search of very big trout.

In our stay with SET, we set out on a float and the fish were less apt to commit to large streamers than we had expected. There were plenty of flashes and short strikes, the fish were there, but they clearly wanted something different than the traditional offerings. It was an opportunity to take a wider view and try something different. I swapped my large subsurface offering for a mouse pattern that’s done very well for me back home, the master splinter. This fly has a foam back, rabbit body and a chenille tail. It’s intended to be soft, stealthy and tantalizing. After passing through some ‘fishy’ water without a reaction I decided to commit and go loud. I had a few large loud deerhair poppers intended for largemouth bass fishing in my fly box and said “why not”. I made a cast to the bank, and the second aggressive strip was met by a 22” brown trout soaring double its body length out of the water to kill my fly. The day was over several hours later, after countless fish on large topwater flies, adrenaline coursing through our veins the entire car ride back to the lodge. These moments are what Argentina is all about for me. It’s a place where you can surprise yourself with unprecedented techniques and take away stories that last a lifetime.

SET handles overnight float trips in a fashion that harkens back to their hospitality at the lodge. A crew will head downstream before your fishing float, pick a spot and set up what SET refers to as their “deluxe camp.” Every angler has their own tent and cot, there are dining tents, a bar, and a traditional asado is cooked over an open fire. It’s certainly the most luxurious camping experience I’ve had and should come at no surprise. The folks at SET and Spring Creek Lodge spare no expense in the name of hospitality.

Lake Fishing at Spring Creek Lodge

A Carolina Skiff equipped with a trolling motor is the vessel of choice for the large glacial lakes adjacent to Spring Creek Lodge. These boats make for a comfortable ride and stable fishing.

Some people gawk at the thought of lake fishing, trout in still water are often approached with long sinking lines and painfully slow presentations. This is simply not the case in Patagonia. Schools of large trout patrol steep cliff faces inches from the water’s surface. These fish are selective enough to be exciting and plentiful enough to keep your heart pounding all day. Small dry flies such as an #18 Adams worked wonders for us on these lakes. It’s a unique game of patterning fish and presenting without the consistency of a river’s flow, the fish move freely meaning they decide when and where to go, not unlike fish on tropical flats. The unpredictability is all part of the excitement.

The Food at Spring Creek Lodge

Immersive, traditional, elegant and bold all come to mind when reflecting on the culinary experience that is Spring Creek Lodge. There are massive structures sculpted with black iron used to cook patagonian asado. Coals are raked methodically over hours upon hours as the most succulent meats and root vegetables are kissed by their flames. These bold, rustic flavors are combined with modern elegant plating and details. Each dish is a painting that reflects the heart and soul of patagonian cuisine. There’s not a plate that goes unfinished nor a patron left unsatisfied. From a veritable smorgasbord of delicate morning pastries to thoughtful wine pairings and unique cocktails the culinary staff is a force driven by love of craft and service to provide a distinctive, memorable experience.

SET Fly Fishing offers a trout lover’s dream adventure with all the creature comforts you didn’t even know you wanted. This place sets the bar at a new height for any lodge experience. The adventure, expansive angling opportunities, breathtaking landscapes, food and drink all carve a place in any patrons heart. Once they’ve experienced Spring Creek Lodge, you’re sure to spend some time daydreaming about coming back, I know I do.

If you’re interested in booking a trip with SET Fly Fishing at Spring Creek Lodge, visit thespringcreeklodge.com. Be sure to check out @spring_creek_lodge and @setflyfishing.

Check out the articles below:

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How to Tie: The Bongo Fly

By

Greg Stohrer

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February 4, 2024

In this week’s “How to Tie” video feature, Martyn White Flicking Feathers ties a saltwater shrimp pattern that will ease the winter blues, the Bongo Fly.

Learn About This Fly:

Difficulty: Easy

Keeping up with the tradition of changing things up, this week’s pattern takes the mind to a warmer place than many of us are currently experiencing in the states. Cold rivers and slower fishing are the realities that winter months bring millions of anglers this time of year, but sometimes it’s nice to escape. Whether you’re planning a trip to the flats or just passing the time, spending a night on the vise is good for the mind and productive for filling your fly box. Shrimp are on the menu for nearly every flats species and the Bongo Fly is a perfect pattern to add to your selection this winter.

Luckily for novice tyers, shrimp flies are often simple to tie, and this pattern is no exception. One obstacle you may face is building a custom dubbing brush with EP fibres, but today you can buy premade brushes from the EP Website. Making sure you tie a variety of sizes and weights to ensure you’re fully prepared for any conditions is something that you’ll thank yourself later for. The Bongo Fly won’t give you much grief on either the vise or the water, making it a fantastic pattern in all situations.

Taking a trip to warmer locations is definitely not always attainable. That being said, DIY options and booking with a group can save costs and make for memories that last a lifetime. Don’t be afraid to get out there and explore, especially when it comes to saltwater. The flats are an experience every angler should get to enjoy, and the Bongo Fly will be a tool to make your odds of landing that fish of the year even higher.

Ingredients:

Hook: Owner Flyliner 4-1/0
Thread: Danville’s Flat Waxed Nylon
Weight: Brass or lead dumbells
Antenna: Crystal Flash
Legs: Sillilegs
Wing: Finn raccoon
Body: EP fibres spun in a dubbing loop

Now you know how to tie the Bongo Fly!

Video and ingredients courtesy of Martyn White Flicking Feathers.

Biggest Chinook Ever Caught In Patagonia

By

Nelson Oxley

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February 2, 2024

A note from Tres Amigos Outfitters:

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A post shared by Tres Amigos Outfitters (@tresamigosoutfitters)

“This 118cm-80 girth chinook salmon was caught using a spoon at Estancia Cristina where our Glacier King salmon program takes place. Fisherman was Fabian Mengo from Cordoba province and guide was Tomas Biott that after noting the beast kindly used his phone to record the moment. Is not uncommon to see these beast caught every season while the biggest fish so far was 42 kilos.” – Juan Biott, Tres Amigos Outfitters

Big thanks to Juan at Tres Amigos Outfitters for sharing this story. Be sure to follow them on Instagram @tresamigosoutfitters.

Check out the articles below:

Far From Home: Ep. 5 Patagonia

Staying Afloat: Juan Biott Tres Amigos Outfitters Patagonia

Video of the Week: Whispers of the Allagash by Reel Tales

By

Landen German

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February 2, 2024

In this Week’s Video of the Week, we journey north to the mystical woods of the Allagash. We catch up with the crew from Reel Tales in their most recent video “Whispers of the Allagash” where they set off to Maine’s North Woods on a three-day fly fishing trip in search of plentiful wild native brook trout in their wild places. They didn’t know that Bob Johnson registered Maine guide and lodge owner, had a few unique surprises for them that not many anglers have the chance to experience. But what came from catching these fish turned into far more than just another fly fishing story.

Reel Tales is a New Hampshire media production company focused on unique and thoughtful stories. Give them a follow here: @reel.tales.

Check out these other epic articles as well!

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Video of the Week: The Hunt for Giant Lake Nipigon Brook Trout with The New Fly Fisher

Video of the Week: Streamer Fishing with Kelly Galloup Episode 1

Paddling with a Porpoise: Part 2

By

Sean Jansen

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February 2, 2024

This is the second installment of Sean Jansen’s series Paddling with a Porpoise. In part two, Jansen logs his solo SUP journey where aims to complete his paddle through the Baja Peninsula. His goal is to raise awareness for plastic pollution and ocean conservation, specifically around the critically endangered porpoise, the Vaquita.

LEFT: Map of Sean’s paddling route. RIGHT: Sean’s vessel.

I was putting my rod away after I had been casting all afternoon without so much as a single peek at my fly. In fact, it had been this way since I restarted my paddle trip a month ago, and I was losing all hope and patience. I’m not a saltwater angler – I have no experience in this world or any prior knowledge on what to do beyond the studies of YouTube videos. I was starting to wonder why I even brought a rod in the first place.

I was paddling the Baja Peninsula to raise awareness for a porpoise, camping and writing about it as I went. I thought I’d bring my rod and pray I could get into a roosterfish or dorado. But at that point, I would have taken anything willing to grab my fly. Gone were the days of the cabrilla on every cast from part one of this story – part two is where it gets real: More people, more stress, and more patience was required to get a hook set. All of which, I didn’t care for.

The sun was setting and I was tired. I just wanted to retire to my tent, call it a night, and allow my frustration to fade like the sun below the horizon. I broke down my fly rod and stowed it for tomorrow’s paddle to the next beach. I grabbed my camera to shoot the sunset like I do each evening, and as the shutter clicked, so too did baitfish on the shore.

Like a mirror being shattered by a rock thrown at it, the small sized mullet, at least a thousand strong, rushed the shore, erupting on the surface, being chased by a school of thirty or so Jacks. It was an explosion of water and flashes of silver bursting into frame. The Jacks were nearly beaching themselves at the rush of baitfish, and before I knew it, the action was gone – and, as luck would have it, I had put my fly rod away thirty seconds prior.

I was ready to scream. Even if I had reacted as soon as the bait ball erupted, it would have been over. On this entire trip, logging over 800 miles down the coast, I had not seen anything like it. To put my rod away less than a minute before it happened, was an omen of some kind.

I didn’t sleep much that night as I had lucid dreams of countless fish since the trip started, all giving me the middle finger, while I paddled down the coast. I had seen a roosterfish ambush a mullet larger than any trout I had caught this year directly under my board while I was paddling, looking at me with a smugness that only a cocky schoolboy would carry. A dorado swam within five feet of me and even circled back and followed the wake of my board. Needlefish launched out of the water and even arched over my board at times. These moments haunted me in my attempt at sleep, and I didn’t know what to do, or what I was doing wrong.

The trip was never really about fishing anyways. It was about raising awareness for an endangered porpoise, the Vaquita, but I also wasn’t going to not bring a fly rod with me in case a bait ball eruption like that happened. After lamenting, I put my head down and kept paddling down the coast to my goal, Cabo San Lucas.

Along my journey, more fish jumped and chased bait fish with each stroke down the coast. It was frustrating, but I knew I was about to enter an area I’ve looked forward to since I first put my board in the water. Just south of the city of La Paz were gigantic points and long stretches of coast with nothing but sand. Finally, what I had dubbed the rooster capital of Baja, was in sight: Los Barriles. Once again, I arrived and was greeted with a forecast so awful that I had no choice but to lay low and hangout in the community, which suited me just fine. I ended up staying for ten days searching for fish and waiting for the wind to calm. Some days, the wind was so bad and the seas so rough, the only real thing I could do was sit on the beach, drink coffee, and watch the little Olive Ridley sea turtle hatchlings enter the water to start their life.

Waking up early was one way to beat the strong winds, and I ran up and down the beaches of Los Barriles looking for that dark shadow of fish. I wasn’t ready to give up, and kept searching until the day my persistence was finally rewarded.

I sat and watched as the baitfish porpoised through the water, knowing something was chasing them. Naturally, they were just offshore enough to be out of casting range. My luck finally turned when a bait ball erupted right on the beach like it did that evening up the coast. I quickly pulled the my Airflo line out of the reel and had my fly in one hand and rod in the other, ready to snipe a cast to the best of my ability. At this point in the bait ball eruption, I didn’t think the cast mattered much. I threw out my mullet pattern, gave it two strips, and the line was tight. Line screamed out of the reel, and I was finally hooked into something that wasn’t a sea bass. I still didn’t know what it was, but the silver flashes were something that ripped a smile across my face.

The fight was solid despite how small the fish was in comparison to the splashes at the bait ball. However, the little Jack came to hand and I quickly thanked it for its interest in my fly before releasing it with water still washing over its gills. I smiled, since it took forever to get into a fish that was different than anything I’d hooked prior. Before I could retreat back to the shade of the one palm tree on the beach, fifty yards away, another bait ball erupted on the shore. I sprinted up and down the beach for another hour hooking into Jack after Jack until the wind came up. I was grateful and relieved, since I was unsure how the story about my fishing from this trip was going to go. I wanted a Roosterfish so bad, but unfortunately, that never happened, nor did I ever see one for the remainder of the trip.

The last section of the trip was all about reflection, as I had gone through some incredibly remote and demanding sections of the area. These places on the coast begged the question of why I ever decided to even try to fish on this trip. But, as I rounded the infamous east cape of the peninsula where the roosterfish film, ‘Running Down the Man’ was filmed, the homes and surf breaks demanded my attention: The waves threatened my beach landings and the homes offered little space for me to set up my tent.

It all began in slow motion yet flew by at the same time. I was suddenly not going south anymore, but west, as I rounded the cape towards the cities of San Jose Del Cabo and Cabo San Lucas. I had to get creative with my campsites and nestled between mega mansions and five star resorts with gringos walking along the beaches in front of me. However, the fish abundance continued, and that also brought the fishermen. Boats zipped by each day with trolling rigs and gringos with smiles ripped across their faces while their boat wakes sent me into a fury of balance and concentration, trying not to capsize.

For the next thirty miles, this was the trend each day, all day. There were moments of baitfish breaching the surface of the water and the usual frigates, sea gulls, and pelicans swooping in to scoop up what was left. Contrasted to the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, whales breaching and boats on my left, to my right were millions of dollars of development and people partying on the beach to the latest dance hit that was released while I was paddling for the last 123 days.

The famous arch of Cabo eventually presented itself and I had to dodge countless panga boats zipping in and out of each other, as well as mega yachts, cruise ships, and drunk tourists blasting around on jet skis. The stir of the wakes created a washing machine effect, like if ten of your friends all jumped in a pool at the same time while you were standing on a board, trying to balance. Despite this challenge, I put my head down and made it to Lands End, the Arch. I threw my hands to the sky and knew the trip was over, but over all, it was very anti-climatic.

I don’t know if it was because of the chaos entering the bay, the countless other people and boats I had to share the view with, or if the overall effect of the trip and the slaughter of the critically endangered Vaquita was (and is) still ongoing, but the satisfaction of the trip hadn’t yet hit.

I put a ton of pressure on myself to hook into a roosterfish. I told myself I couldn’t go home until I had one in hand – that was going to be my reward of the trip and to not even get an opportunity, despite seeing them and being in the prime areas of where they inhabit, churned my stomach more than any of the questionable food I ate.

Did I need to catch a roosterfish for it to be successful? I struggled for a while with that question, and ultimately found reprieve in the most unlikely way: A few days after the trip, I went snorkeling and was able to witness a handful of roosters swimming in unison under the water, and was stunned by their beauty.

They weren’t taunting me, or swimming around as if bragging about how I couldn’t catch one. Instead, they were curiously checking me out and doing what they do each and every day, whether a fly is presented to them or not. At that moment, I reflected on the natural sightings I was fortunate enough to witness while on the trip, and decided it made enough of a story to satisfy my ego, instead of having tangible proof of my memories to show off to the world.

The Baja Peninsula is the most rugged, remote, beautiful, and abundant place I have ever been. There are creatures along the coast that have never seen a human, and beaches that have never seen a footprint. Although it is threatened each and everyday to over exploitation, overfishing, and development, there will be areas of this coast that will forever remain untouched – and let’s hope it will remain that way. I felt lucky to be able to see what it had to offer, and grateful for my gear and my body for holding up for so long.

Let’s hope the Vaquita can also show the same reliance as well, because its journey to success and health is far greater than anything I was able to accomplish from this trip, and the only ego problem it has is the mere desire to stay alive, not one about feeling defeated for not hooking into a fish.

Trip Statistics:

I burned 255,901 calories and paddled exactly 1,004.50 miles. The trip took 123 days, I camped under the stars for 79 nights, I paddled for 70 days, fished for 16 of those days, caught 21 fish, stayed for 29 nights in houses, pumped 18 liters of fresh water from my sea water pump, got offered 17 beers, took 15 showers, paddled an average of 14.35 miles a day, dealt with 14 separate El Norte wind events, paid for 11 campsites, stayed 7 nights in hotels, got rained on 4 times, had 4 shark encounters, had 3 campfires, paddled through 2 time zones, 2 states, experienced 1 hurricane, and had 1 helluva trip.

Angler Story from Sean Jansen, be sure to follow him on Instagram @jansen_journals.

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The Proposed Gravel Pit Mine of the Eagle River and Colorado River is Back

By

Nelson Oxley

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February 1, 2024

From Vail Valley Anglers:

Photo by Vail Valley Anglers Guide @flyseekers.

Take Action! The Proposed Gravel Pit Mine at Confluence of Eagle and Colorado Rivers is Back!

On February 5, the Eagle County Commissioners will vote on a proposal from Rincon Materials Inc. to excavate and operate an open pit gravel mine on 100 acres of the Upper Colorado River, just upstream from the popular Dotsero boat ramp.

Please contact the Commissioners to know how this project could forever harm these rivers and the fishery by clicking HERE.

Check out the articles below:

11 Best Fly Fishing Rivers In Colorado [Pro Tips For Each]

Adapt or Die: Addressing the Ever-Changing Sport of Fly-Fishing

Reel of the Week: Catching A Duck, On A Fly Rod

By

Nelson Oxley

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February 1, 2024

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by LEVI WATSON | NORTH 11 AGENCY (@levitwatson)

Catch and release, duck-style. Whether it’s bats, birds, dragonflies, or salmon flies, this one’s a bit different… What’s the most unusual thing you’ve hooked with a fly rod? Share your story in the comments below.

Reel of the Week from Levi Watson, be sure to follow Levi on Instagram @levitwatson.

Check out the articles below:

Enter the Cast and Blast Giveaway!

Best Google Earth Screenshots of People Fly Fishing

2024 Behind the Lens: A Line in the Sand

By

Kirk Marks

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January 31, 2024

The 2024 F3T is underway – click here to find a local showing and purchase tickets.

Next up in the 2024 F3T Behind the Lens lineup, we head to the pristine island of Andros in the Bahamas. The bone-fishing is world class, but how could a proposed 5,000-acre limestone mine change that? Flylords was lucky enough to catch up with the filmmakers Harrison Hughes and Steve Schwartz, to learn more about what went into the making of this film. Check out the full interview below.

Flylords: Harrison and Steve, tell us a little bit about yourselves. Also, what were your individual roles in creating this film?

Harrison: I’m a freelance filmmaker & photographer who has been shooting professionally since 2011. I picked up a fly rod in 2017, started shooting for some outdoor brands and never turned back. I am the camera operator & editor for the film.

Steve: Oddly enough, I’m a writer by trade. I’ve been working in and around the fly-fishing industry for a while now, but never as a producer. I handled a lot of random stuff, from coordinating the story at the beginning, interviewing on-camera talent, naming the film, taking some photos, booking flights, and pretending like I knew what I was doing. Oh, and I couldn’t forget offering feedback to Harry in the editing process. I’m sure he loved that part.

Flylords: How did you decide to make bone fishing in Andros the subject of your film, and how did you go about capturing the unique features that make Andros such a pristine ecosystem?

Harrison: Funny enough, we were actually planning to go to Mexico for this trip. It was supposed to be a promo trip for a fly fishing company we were working for. After speaking with Gabby and her husband John, they said the fishing was amazing on Andros so we shifted this trip. Andros truly feels untouched. There were multiple times while we were on the West side that I thought to myself “I’ve got to be the first human who has tossed a fly here.” Capturing the scenery was super easy, just had to make sure to bring multiple drone batteries.

Steve: Yeah, I remember we pivoted the entire trip in real time during our first call with Gabby and John. You could just tell that they were in love with this place, and the mention of double-digit bonefish didn’t hurt, so we rolled the dice and decided to go with them. Obviously, it turned out to be the right move. And, to piggyback on Harry’s point, it wasn’t hard to make Andros look great. It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.

Flylords: How did you initially learn about the proposed 5,000-acre limestone mine? Can you break down some of the potential environmental threats associated with such a mine?

Steve: That was actually the biggest reason we pivoted to go to Andros on our initial call. Harry and I knew we were looking for some kind of story—an interesting person or whatever—and when Gabby mentioned that there was a proposed limestone mine, it piqued our interest. I did a little research and it seemed a thread worth following.

As for the threat of the mine, the risk outweighs the need. From a human standpoint, Andros holds the largest source of fresh water in the Bahamas, and it’s crucial for the country. Any sort of negligence or mishap (which seems to be a “when” not an “if” for most mining projects) could harm that water source beyond repair. Also, the economy on Andros and the Bahamas lives and dies on tourism, and a mine would only harm those prospects as well. The entity vying for the mine would argue that they’re bringing jobs to the island, but there’s no real evidence that it would move the needle for the economy in any meaningful way and most sources we spoke with said that other mines in the Bahamas have proven that any wealth leaves the Bahamas and doesn’t benefit its citizens.

To me, there’s also a deeper issue. In most cases, modern culture is trying to reverse the damage done by mines, dams, and other impediments. We’re continually trying to reconcile past sins. This situation, much like the Pebble Mine, is an opportunity to stop a mistake before it happens. There’s no question that humanity needs resources, but there are places where we need to make a stand and say, “No, not here,” which is where the title for the film came from.

Pebble Mine, rightfully so, got a massive amount of coverage and press. For some reason, this issue has not, but I think we would both agree that Andros is not any less beautiful or important to the people of the Bahamas, as well as those of us in the fly-fishing community. And, let’s be honest, a few people are going to get rich off of a mine like this—don’t let them tell you any different. To me, that’s never a good reason to make a fragile ecosystem even more vulnerable.

Flylords: As the Culinary Editor at Flylords, I’m always interested in learning about the role fishing plays in food culture around the world. What fish species, if any, are commonly consumed in Andros? Did you enjoy any particularly memorable meals during the trip?

Harrison: I went down to shoot for this film twice, and I looked forward to every meal. The Conch and crab were absolutely unreal, I’m drooling as I type this.

Steve: I just ate bonefish the whole time. Just kidding. I don’t have too much to add here, other than Bahamian cooking is incredible, and Andros Island Bonefish Club had the best of it.

Flylords: Balancing storytelling while conveying environmental issues can be complex. How did you make sure your film engaged audiences while still effectively addressing the potential threats to the area?

Harrison: The mine was originally just going to be a side story to a fun fishing promo, but as we conducted more interviews and spoke with locals, we knew the mine needed to drive this, and the fishing partnered as it would be directly affected by the mine.

Steve: In this case, it wasn’t too difficult because the target species is a direct reflection of the health of its ecosystem. Anglers hooking into bonefish is just a small way of pointing out why this place is special, and also what’s at risk. Prescott Smith and Shawn Leadon are as committed to the health of their home as they are to running kick ass fishing lodges. I was blown away by both of those guys—two of the most passionate, intelligent, and humble people you’d ever meet. It just made sense to connect their cause with their lifestyle.

Lastly, Gabby and John were the perfect conduit for the audience, a way to bridge the gap between the U.S. and the Bahamas. Those two are fully committed to protecting and serving Andros, even though they don’t live there anymore. They can fish, too. Gabby’s an incredible guide in her own right. Her service is called Lady Luck Adventures in Destin and after seeing her fish, I’d strongly suggest booking a charter. And no, she didn’t pay me to say this—but she’s welcome to.

Flylords: What was the best, worst, or weirdest moment of the trip? Take your pick.

Harrison: Best part for me was one morning our guide wanted to commit to finding flamingos. He said local Bahamians go their entire life not ever seeing them or not even know they live on the island. We searched for about two hours and as we gave up hope, we saw a pink cloud on the horizon feeding on thousands of shrimp. My hands were shaking as I got the drone up, and then embarked on the greatest drone footage I have ever captured. I flew with hundreds of wild flamingos that most likely have never seen a human in their life. It was absolutely unreal.

Steve: Easy. My casting was the worst part.

Flylords: Filmmaking inevitably comes with challenges. Can you share some memorable moments or obstacles encountered during the actual filming process?

Harrison: Apart from the mosquitos and doctor flies eating us alive during evening interviews, there was a looming risk in filming the documentary because of the issues we were highlighting. There are BILLIONS of dollars going into the push for limestone mining, and the locals and public officials fighting them have been bribed with over $100,000, framed and put in jail, and there was even car bomb attempt on one of the most prominent fighters of the mine.

Steve: This definitely can’t top a car bomb, but simply getting all of the coverage we needed in such a short amount of time was really tough. In fact, Harry went back for another quick trip because we needed to fill some gaps—and he just happened to bring a fly rod along…

Flylords: I’m headed to Mexico to target bonefish for the first time in about a month. Any tips, fly pattern recommendations, or anything else you think I ought to know before heading south?

Harrison: I wish we touched on this more in the film, but we actually stayed and fished with Crazy Charlie’s kids. His son guided us and his daughter cooked some of the most incredible meals for us. Saying that, I stand by the crazy Charlie and Gotcha being the two best bonefish patterns on the planet. That’s all we used, and we lost count of the fish we caught.

Steve: Man, I learned so many hard lessons. First, practice casting to moving targets if you’re a little rusty like I was. I can hit a dime at 70 feet at a stationary target, but when it’s cruising across the bow with a stiff crosswind, that’s a different ballgame. It took me a while to get back into the swing of things. Second, listen to your guide. These guys are the best of the best, so when they say, “strip, strip, strip, strip, stop, strip, strip, stop, set the hook,” just do what they say, even if you can’t see the fish. They can see it, and know exactly how to hook ‘em.

Flylords: What is the overarching message you hope viewers take home after watching this film? How do you see the film making a tangible impact on viewers, and what specific actions do you hope your audience will take after watching?

Harrison: My biggest hope is that this film highlights an issue that could destroy the island and fishery forever, and we somehow have a part in stopping that from happening.

Steve: I’m with Harry on this one. When we asked Prescott what could be done to stop this mine from happening, his answer kind of broke my heart: “We need people like you to notice.” There are entities out there who are taking advantage of people who, for whatever reason, don’t have the collective voice and influence to stand in their way. The majority of Bahamians don’t want this mine, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I hate that. I’m sure there’s plenty of limestone in other places but this island with a small, rural population is an easy target. If we can stop this one, maybe we can start setting a precedent and make the next target not so easy.

Flylords: What can we expect next from you? Any film ideas or adventures down the pipeline?

Harrison: My mind has been racing ever since we got word that we made F3T. 2024 Cicada hatch, Michigan smallies, brown trout of Italy, or New Zealand trout after doing a Hobbit tour, I’m gonna do it all. I’m all in on making more fly fishing films.

Steve: Between our two families, we have five kids under the age of six, so that’s generally enough insanity. That being said, I have a feeling 2024 is going to be a solid year. Now that we’ve checked F3T off of our bucket lists, it’s time to skip the Golden Globes and go for the big one. Yep, the Oscars.

Flylords: Lastly, is there anything else you’d like to share that I haven’t asked about already?

Harrison: I’ll be in Dallas, Destin, Nashville and Knoxville for the tour. Would love to meet up and talk shop with anglers and filmmakers attending!

Steve: Watch out, Harry’s a hugger.

Special thanks to Harrison Hughes and Steve Schwartz for taking the time for an interview. Stay tuned for more iterations of the Fly Fishing Film Tour, F3T Behind the Lens series by clicking here.

The 2024 F3T is underway – click here to find a local showing and purchase tickets.

2024 F3T Behind The Lens: RIO DE GIGANTES

2024 F3T Behind the Lens: Triple Trouble

Drawdown Begins–Klamath River Restoration Continues

By

Will Poston

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January 30, 2024

A couple weeks back, Klamath River restoration hit another pivotal milestone: initiating drawdown at Iron Gate Dam. And just in the last week, crews blasted an opening at the Copco 1 and JC Boyle Dams, allowing water to flow and drain the reservoir. Klamath River restoration is in full stride. This news comes after complete removal of the Copco 2, the first of 4 dams removed on the Klamath, late last year. In an interview with NPR, Amy Cordalis, a Yurok tribal member, attorney, Trout Unlimited Board Member, and long-time Klamath restoration advocate, said “This is historic and life-changing!”

The mechanics of dam removal are complex and involve many moving pieces. Drawdown, where the reservoirs upstream of the remaining three dams are strategically lowered, is a critical component to facilitate complete removal later this year. The sediment buildup behind dams can be massive–there’s an estimated 17-20 million cubic yards of sediment behind the three remaining Klamath dams, and roughly a third of that sediment is expected to flow downstream. In the short-term, the sediment transport could have adverse effects, such as small fish kills and dust build up, but testing determined the sediment is non-toxic. In the long-term, however, this sediment transport is critical for recharging habitats and allowing nutrients to flow through the system like they used to.

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“Witnessing the beginning of drawdown at Iron Gate dam was both celebration of an important moment in the story of Klamath dam removal, and a source of pride for the exceptional work done by so many people to arrive at this day,” said Mark Bransom, CEO of Klamath River Renewal Corporation.“Iron Gate’s drawdown strategy is different than what people may have seen in the past with other dam removals,” noted Bransom. “There was no blast at this dam, instead we had the opportunity to use existing infrastructure, which allows us to precisely control the volume of water going down river, limiting downstream impacts.”

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As drawdown continues and new riverbeds are uncovered, TU and many other partners will be on-site ensuring restoration work continues. Natives plants are being planted. All the work necessary to afford salmon, steelhead, and other species the opportunity to fully take advantage of nearly 400 miles of restored Klamath River–prime spawning and rearing habitat, too–for the first time in decades.

Rest assured, we’ll be sharing any and all updates for this historic effort to restore the Klamath River. I mean, the world’s largest dam removal project doesn’t happen all the time. But more importantly, there has never been more hope and opportunity to rebuild decimated salmon and steelhead runs in this country, and, hopefully, that momentum can translate to continued success in other watersheds.

Cover image of Iron Gate Dam courtesy of Jason Hartwick of Swiftwater Films and KRCC.

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Fishing Tips: Understanding Fly Retrieves

By

Andrew Braker

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January 29, 2024

According to Kelly Galloup, understanding fly retrieves is everything when it comes to streamer fishing. Check out this master class in streamer fishing from Anchored with April Vokey.

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