Hagerman-A boy, a girl, a dog, and a bass.

Tam and Tuck and I had just completed a semi-brisk three mile jog up and back on the Meadow Ponds Trail, and decided to walk in on the Crawfish Pond across from the new Visitor Center at Hagerman.  Less than five hundred yards off the road, this little jewel gets amazingly little fishing pressure, and I have never visited her without getting a few bites.  This brief vignette features me catching a little bass, Tucker getting a kiss, and Tam serving as photographer.  The pier is about eight or ten feet above the water.

A Brazos Surprise

Memorial Day Weekend of 2011 saw the Brazos below PK blasted by 108 degree temps and 40+mph winds straight out of the south.  Not exactly idyllic conditions for fly fishing.  Nevertheless, since Tam and her fam had headed north to the casino at  Burkburnett,  I thought I'd give it a whirl.   I drove through the fire ravaged areas along Hiway 16, near the Hills Above PK.  Most of those houses were saved, but a considerable amount of pasture was torched.   To my surprise, the river was deserted.  And, furthering my surprise, there were fish to be caught.  None were large, but a couple of spotted bass pushed a pound or pound and a half.  Dozens of sunfish, not a single carp.  Then, right at dusk, I had made my way back up to the first big pool below the dam.  The wind had slacked to less than twenty, and I was able to limber up my casting stroke and bang out some longer casts.  These pics were snapped in the last fifteen minutes of fishing, and take a gander at the last fish.  Ten inches, on a yellow popping bug, in the Brazos River of Texas-a walleye.  (I had not caught a walleye since leaving Montana in 1987)  He was healthy, feisty, and released unharmed.  You never know what you will find in the Brazos.

Paradigm

In the summer of 1977-June, to be exact-I went in to the C.R. Anthony's store in Levelland, Texas to buy a pair of suspenders. Seems everyone was holding up their Sedgefield's with a pair of two inch wide multicolored orange red and yellow braces, and I didn't have any. So, with my first paycheck from a summer job in hand, I headed in for a purchase. In the next few moments, my life was turned upside down, altered irrevocably, and sent careening wildly down a whole new track. You see, the sales clerk walked up to me and said "May I help you?" I was struck dumb. The salesclerk (who was amazing) turned out to be Tammy, the future Mrs. BMBMD. That is the very definition of a paradigm shift, and The Blue Damsel Lodge is sort of like that. In a heartbeat, I saw flyfishing in a whole new light.

Steve Hollenshed is a long-time fly-fishing guide on Lake Texoma, an Orvis-Endorsed Guide, and a master casting instructor. He organized this junket to the Treasure State, and served as expedition leader. The Blue Damsel, up Rock Creek Road from Clinton, Montana has been in business as a lodge for about nine years. With capacity for fourteen guests, the lodge sets new standards for comfort, elegance and beauty. Owner-Operator Keith Radenbaugh is a UT grad and native Texan. His staff of locals is headed by Josh, a master chef, carpenter, artist, and outdoorsman. His little sister Maren and her husband Troy complete the team, and went out of their way to make our stay as seemless and comfortable as possible. Two rambunctious Springers, Barley and Parker, round out the cadre. Being a lodge dog is not a bad gig.

First a word about the lodge itself. Set on the banks of Rock Creek, and built in true Montana style, the lodge is constructed of fourteen inch lodgepole pine logs, with soft yellow pine floors, sweeping views of the wilderness across the creek, and hand-crafted furniture. Many of the items of furniture, including the gorgeous work space in the kitchen, were designed and built by Josh himself. The living room is dominated by a stone fireplace, leather sofas, and antlers of various species. The five by five elk across from the fireplace, mounted on the skin which housed it, was taken by Josh on the back side of the neighboring mountain within walking distance of the lodge. The baths were clean and comfortable, appointed with hand painted tiles. There is a small Orvis Pro Shop in the daylight basement for last-minute items and souvenir shirts.

Now-on to the food. We were met at the door with club sandwiches for an afternoon snack, shown to our rooms, and within an hour, we were casting in the backyard creek. Not a bad start to the trip. That night, our first real meal, prepared by Josh, included pork loin and white bean remoulade. Desert was hand-cranked ginger ice cream with homemade chocolate sauce highlighted with a touch of orange. We knew we were in for a week of great eating. Scrambled eggs with cream cheese, baked bacon, designer french toast, rack of lamb, bananas foster-the list goes on and on. We did not want for fine dining. An open bar, generous wine list, and an assortment of beers were on hand for prescription strength muscle relaxants after a long day in the boat.

Oh, yeah-there was fishing. Missoula Montana is blessed to be right dab in the center of four major blue-ribbon fisheries, with countless opportunities for smaller, more intimate waterways. Our fishing was engineered by the incredible staff of Blackfoot River Outfitters in Missoula. Adam Spenner and James Johnsey were assigned to our group, and spared no effort to put us on fish. Their knowledge of the water and uncanny water-reading ability put us in position time after time to actually hook and land rainbows, browns, cutthroats, and various genetic subspecies of the cutbow variety. David and Steve accidentally landed the rare and endangered Bull Trout-it is against the law to target these fish, but what do you do when they insist on smashing your bug? Our trip coincided with the Skwala hatch, an early season stonefly, and we hit the dates right on the money. Mornings were spent with a dry dropper combo, afternoons were a dry fly delight with big honking skwala hatches. Day one was the Blackfoot, day two and three were various sections of the Bitterroot. The weather was what you expect for Montana in early April-highs of fifty, lows around thirty, some wind, a little rain, and even a few snow flurries. Unbelievable scenery, expert boat handling and water reading, a nice shore lunch with the guys every day, good conversation and great fishing-not a bad way to spend a day.

Now-the guys. I have known Steve and known of his work for several years. Spending a few days with him, though, revealed the quality of his character and the warmth of his personality. It was a joy to be with him. Although he was on vacation, too-he never forgot that he was an Orvis guide, and his attention to detail and concern for his fellow travelers was apparent to see. His casting stroke is a thing of beauty. My hope is that some of that elegance will rub off on me. David, from the Houston area, is a retired accountant for Exxon. Quiet and unassuming, he put on a daily clinic in precision casting, pulling one nice trout after another from the water. His fly was in the water, on target, and in "the zone" all day long. At the table, around the coffee pot, on the deck, around the fire-a great conversationalist, knowledgeable and open minded.

I shared a boat with Dutch for the three days. Dutch, it seems, was a real cowboy, played linebacker for Woody Hayes back in the day, tackled OJ Simpson in the '69 Rose Bowl, served a stint in the Marines, coached at Ohio State, and is now an executive in the NCAA Division IA Athletic Director's Association. Not a bad resume. Oh-and he could fish. His first love is spey-casting for steelhead, but he certainly acquitted himself (OJ Simpson reference?) admirably with the traditional fly rod. He kept his rod bent all day every day, and my ear bent with great stories of eskimos, marines, steelhead, and a real glimpse in to the the phenomenon that was Woodie Hayes. I could not have asked for a more gentle and interesting fishing partner.

So, there you have it. Another adventure in the books, a new standard set for quality experience, a stable-full of new and unforgettable friends, and photos to print it. I will include, at the bottom, links to the lodge, to Steve, to the outfitters, and to the 200 some odd photos I took on the trip. Thanks for reading-see you on the Tiny Waters.

http://s46.photobucket.com/albums/f106/bmbmd/Blue%20Damsel-April%202011/
www.bluedamsel.com/
http://www.blackfootriver.com/

www.flywaterangling.com/

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.