A couple years ago, my friend and I took a pretty cool extended fly fishing road trip. I bought a 1974 Ford Highboy, a 4 wheel camper top of similar vintage, and we spent the better part of July, trout routing our way home to the East Coast at 60 mph. That journey started in the Shasta Region of Northern California, where we picked up the rig. After royally upending the timeline of our host for this first leg, we spent the evening sipping whiskey in failing light, as wild rainbows happily fed on the surface. We missed fishing this river, and I’ve always wanted to get back.Read More
Looking back on the year, one constant has been high water. The wading boots haven’t been wet in migratory water since late Sept. Every time it looks like the better waters are coming around, BOOM, the Good Mother has alternative plans. In one sense, its quite awesome to have plenty of water for the fish to do their thing. I remember plenty of years where the tribs were dry, and we were doing the collective rain dance. This constant of blown out rivers, is plain getting old. As an alternative, I’ve been doing a lot more upland hunting. Which has been a delicious and enjoyable distraction.