First cast of the year-every bit of twenty inches! I'm not usually much of a trout fisher, but I had just enough time last Saturday to run up to the Blue for a looksee. I knew I was in for a jostling when the parking lot at Area One was full, the parking lot at area Two was full, and the parking lot at the walk-in area was full. It was, after all, the last weekend of spring break. So, I was moderately surprised to find an empty hole to fish. I rolled out an olive wooly bugger (what did you expect) and was surprised to find this gent on the end of my line. He was successfully cpr'd, and I took off on what proved to be about a three mile hike. I was able to drudge up a few more 'bows when I could find an empty spot, but came up empty when I started prospecting for smallies. Still a little cool, I expect.

Speaking of trouts-I am heading home to Montana April10-14 with the Steve Hollenshed group. I have not set foot in the treasure state since moving back to Texas in February of 1987. I fly in to Missoula, then off to the lodge near Clinton. This was the area that "A River Runs Through It" was filmed. Again, I'm not much of a trout fisher, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to learn from the best. I'll post a report when I get back.

Tomorrow, wind permitting, I plan to fish the big Mineral Arm of Texoma for a while. If the wind is too stiff, I'll give sweet ole' Loy Lake a whirl. (I was out walking the dog today, and spotted a bass of at least five or six pounds fanning her nest. Lots of buck bass near the dam. Water still clear.)

Tiny Waters Goes to Alaska

Ahhhh-the big time. Even though I truly love the tiny little waters of my home state and our neighbor to the north, it's hard, nay-impossible to pass up a chance to fly off to the true Holy Land of Fly Fishing-our forty-ninth state. What started out as a little friendly junket, mostly exploring, for Hunter and his bud Trevor evolved into a family crusade involving me, Tam, and our two boys. The Zachster just graduated from college, and the Huntster just finished Denison High School. So, seemed like a great time to rough it up north with our two mountain men. Trevor, unfortunately-stayed behind.

Hours and hours of on-line research led me to the conclusion that a motor home rental would be the most cost-effective and interesting manner from which to launch our expedition. We eventually decided on a 32 foot Winnebago from Great Alaskan Holidays, and could not have been happier. We flew in to Anchorage on July 31, rented a car, and checked in to the brand new Crown Plaza of Anchorage. Zach flew in a few hours later, and Hunter met him at the airport gate with a big hug and a heartfelt "Welcome Home". Already, my boys were loving life in Anchorage.

After a night at the Crown Plaza, we spent all day seeing the sights that Anchorage has to offer. It is a beautiful city, and the early August 1 weather was phenomenal. 61 degrees, even a little sunshine. Monday, bright and early, we picked up our coach, watched a thirty minute film on how not to wreck it, and headed off for Cooper Landing. Kenai River RV Park was our destination for the next three nights (although next time we may try Kenai Princess). Tuesday morning, we met Billy from Alaska Troutfitters for a day of salmon and trout fishing. Many large salmon (four of which we kept and ate for the next two weeks) and a few nice trout later, we headed back to the RV. Sockeye fishing, in my book, is kind of an odd hybrid type of flyfishing-really more like fly snagging. Nevertheless, it was a great way to spend the day. The next day, Hunt and Zach took off with Dusty (Billy's wife) for a traditional drift fishing trip down the upper Kenai. The fishing was slow, although Hunter did take a huge rainbow of about twenty eight inches. On Wednesday, we slept in and then fished on our own up at Quartz Creek, a few miles north of Cooper Landing. This is where Tam caught the huge sockeye while using a five-weight for dollies. Probably the fish of the trip. The boys caught a few trout, dollies and rainbows, and the dad struck out.

Thursday, we headed north back through Anchorage (and Wasilla) up to Talkeetna. When I die, I want to go to Talkeetna in the summer and eat Crab Pizza for all eternity. After lunch, we headed up to Montana Creek RV Park. Montana Creek was just what we had in mind-clearwater traditional fly fishing (mostly purple egg-sucking leech pattern) for innumerable pinks, chums, and a few Silvers. Even the dad caught a few. Our next door neighbors in the park were actually a couple from Mount Pleasant, Texas-they will be in Denison's district next year!!! Small world.

After a few days at Montana Creek, we took of north again to the Cantwell RV Park, just on the outskirts of Denali Wilderness. They say there is a big tall mountain there, but we never saw it. We fished the Jack River for grayling (caught none) ate blueberries off the bush in the tundra (everyone should walk on the tundra once in their life) and visited the shops of Denali before heading up to the park. The park was, without doubt, spectacular.

All too soon, two weeks are up, and it's back to the airport and home to Texas and 106 degree heat. Saturday afternoon, we proudly watched as Zachary Mark strolled across the stage at UNT and was granted his Bachelor's Degree. We were so proud-that's kind of a big deal-and were so glad we made it home for the ceremony. Thanks to Tam for getting our flights changed at the absolute last moment and getting us home in time.

So, yeah-I've been to Alaska. And it was fabulous. I'll go again someday-but now I'm glad to be home, fishing the tiny waters.

Zach really has a Jones on for learning to fly-fish-he has seven weeks before our trip to Alaska. He wanted to get his "chops" on some moving water today, and we ended up at the beautiful Blue River near Tishamingo Oklahoma. The Blue is a spring-fed river that eventually empties into the Red below Texoma, and is best known for it's seasonal rainbow fishery-a put and take proposition that starts every autumn. It is, however, also an outstanding warmwater fishery , almost Ozark-ian in character and appearance. Always cool, always clean, and always enough flow for a kayak or canoe, the Blue is a local summertime hangout for the Bud swilling skinny dipping kind of crowd. If, however, one takes the unmarked road up the hill from "Area 2', one eventually reaches a locked gate which marks the start of the "walk-in" waters. In the winter, this represents the so-called "quality" water, meaning the stockers are more along the twelve to fourteen inch variety rather than the eight inchers prevalent at the low water crossing, Hughes Ford. We walked in, probably three quarters of a mile or more, in the searing June sun. Wet wading in the delightfully cool waters of the Blue cooled us down. We had about two hours of casting practice, with an eight inch largemouth (Zach's) and a green sunfish of somewhat less than ten inches to show for our efforts. Wading in the Blue is quite hazardous-there are lots of limestone ledges covered with moss and algae that are almost impossible to stand on, and one should be prepared to take a sudden dip now and again. Along about seven o'clock, though-I finally hooked up with this brown beauty above a little waterfall. He got stuck in the grass, dove down in the rocks, wrapped around a stump, and eventually even swam between my legs in an effort to escape. I was absolutely amazed that I landed this fish-every bit of three pounds, in the heavy current, on a black Llano bug tied by Kevin Hutchinson his own self. Zach snapped a photo with his I-phone, and I released this bruiser back into the flow. I've caught smallies before on this body of water, but this was a personal best for the Blue. Zach has one piece of advice for anyone considering wading the Blue in mid-summer-don't wear cotton boxers.......Click on the pic for a full view.

I took this week off to get my CME's completed. So far, that's not going too well. Instead, I was up and out early this morning to try my luck on lovely little Waterloo Lake in downtown Denison. I've lived here almost seven years, and have never launched a boat or wet a hook on that little jewel. She's generally a little crowded on weekends, and I'm not much for crowds. . The day started off with the accidental impalement of my right hypothenar eminence (the fleshy part of the hand behind the little finger) with a yellow popping bug. Of course, I had no tools with me so I rousted Tam up and out-she brought wirecutters, pliers, water, neosporin and band-aids. I love that woman.
So, without further delay-off I went. Todays' choice of boat deserves a little mention. When I was about ten years old, Sears came out with the first of the Gamefisher boats. Twelve feet long, green fiberglass-about two hundred bucks. I daydreamed of owning one of those little boats my whole childhood. Like the persistent widow, I politicked my dad without ceasing. Alas, it was to no avail. I never did get a Gamefisher. A few years ago, though, I saw one for sale on the now defunct (and much lamented ) Texas Fly Report. Twelve feet, with a trailer-two hundred bucks. It's a seventy-two model, and I bought it from Charlie Decoteaux, well-known fly tyer and fisherman from Plano. Apparently, it was a Katrina survivor, and had made it's way to Plano via a series of brother-in-law trades. Anyway, now she's mine. With a little minn-kota on the stern, I can cruise little bodies of water with style and comfort. She only leaks a little.

In case you didn't know, Waterloo is absolutely full of stunted sunfish-I must have caught fifty or sixty of 'em in about two hours. The park itself is wonderful-nice ramp, good parking, restrooms, picnic tables. There is an excellent running/biking trail of about a mile and a half, and then a paved walking trail of about .6 miles. Tucker loves Waterloo-he even gets off the leash. I was home by eight thirty, made an omelet, and entered this report. Now-on to some CME.

Loy in the Springtime

I took the Tuckster for a run at venerable old Loy Lake Park on this particular day. For once, the sun was shining and the spring breezes were just that-breezes. After a few miles around the Fair Grounds and up RC Vaughn road, we returned to the pickup. I was parked right at the dam -Couldn't help but notice fish swirling in the shallows up against the spillway. Like any flyfisher worth his salt, I just happened to have a three-weight in the back of the truck. Out came the fly rod, and the first cast hooked that little bass-pound, pound and a half, maybe. Several different varieties of Sunnies on almost every cast-even a stray crappie. Like true love, the best fishing trips are the spontaneous ones.....