EC

When you've made plans for a big trip a long time in advance, and then you're fishing every weekend before the big trip, sometimes it doesn't fully set in that you're going until you actually leave. 

An airport change in Buenos Aires and a two hour domestic flight would put us in Bariloche in early afternoon after departing Seattle the midday prior.  A sigh of relief as all our luggage and gear came around the baggage claim carousel.  Jetlagged, odiferous and giddy, we finally found the familiar face we looked for, as Nick and the Turbo Diesel Hilux awaited (I like to think that this rig was a long, lost cousin to an older Turbo Diesel model that I once owned).  All of the very nice, professional photos below were taken by Nick - those slightly out of focus or lacking that certain je ne sais quois were taken by yours truly.  With heads on a swivel, we made our way from the airport through Junin de los Andes and onto the long dirt road that lead to the amazing Estancia Chimehuin, on the banks of the mighty Chimehuin River.



In the view above you can just make out the house in the lower right corner, on the banks of the river.  Below, sun-down on the Chimehuin from the front yard.

So, we went fishing.

There are roughly two miles of water within the fences of Estancia Chimehuin (EC), but with countless braids and side-channels, these turn into more like eight.  We fished the EC stretch of the river for four days, covering nearly all the water.  In addition, we camped out on two separate nights, fishing two different rivers on one trip and fishing the very upper reaches of the Chimehuin on the second overnight.



In our first overnight mission, we camped along the banks of Lago Filo Hua Hum.  The scenery was anything but "ho hum," as you can see above.  Rainbow trout cleared the water in chase of dragonflies among the reeds.  After we had exhausted the boca (mouth/inlet), we headed up river, where we would meet our noble adversaries for the day, mighty trucha marron (brown trout).  It was a sight-fishing game on the Filo Hua Hum. It pains me to say, but my trout eyes are out of shape. Thankfully, Nick's were in prime shape.

Not only were these brown fish beasts tough to see, but they were even harder to handle when they felt the sting of a hook.  After hooking a respectful specimen on my first cast of the day to then watch the fish do a 180 around a boulder and disappear forever, spirits were high to start.  Later in the day we would call that our best chance, as we left the river skunked, having lost five in total and spooking a number of others, some of which neared massive lengths.  It's good to have a day like that every now and then.



But I'd rather it wasn't every day.  Back on the Chimehuin, the fishing was consistent.  Consistently good, that is.

While discussing the fishing with another EC visitor, we were asked to provide a term for the time of day when the fishing gets very good.  We gringos couldn't agree on one so "The Golden Hour," Nick replied.  After spending a week fishing in Patagonia, it seems The Golden Hour would qualify for most hours of the day. 

Above, native perca (perch).  Below, a fish rises during The Golden Hour.

Hilux in its element at The Golden Hour.

 Long days (The Golden Hour), and everlasting nights.

Of the many amazing and gracious people we met on our journey, one in particular sticks out that I'd like to speak of.  Husband of EC's ranch manager, below is Russo at work on our lamb lunch.  At the age of one month, Russo's grandmother crossed the Andes on horseback to her new home in the Chimehuin valley.  On his father's side, Russo's family bought extensive Patagonia acreage blind and then relocated from England over the course of 9 years to settle the region.  Patagonia and the Chimehuin valley are his home.

After splitting 15 years between Argentina and England playing professional polo, Russo returned to his homeland, meeting his gorgeous wife.  He is hilarious, witty, a jack-of-all-trades and does wonders with a blade, fresh meat and a campfire.  Below, venison tenderloin, peppers and onions.  Russo's opinion on dealing with the perils of the English polo social scene or the exhausting nature of fly fishing field testing:  "Somebody has to deal with this shit.  And that somebody is me."

Drink of choice.  The coffee brandy and milk of the south:  Fernet y Cola.  Apparently it offers peace and approval.  Koozie shout-out to the Clem Corps.  

A million thanks to Nick, Jim, Amie, Russo and Clarita and the rest of the EC crew.  I'll never forget it and hope to find my way there again some day.

things, cnt'd

ahem. been a while. fishing/guiding things at the 4UR carried on as they usually do - quite well. while our water has been low compared to last year, the fishing was still great. if you put a good fly in front of a trout the way he likes it, he should eat it. when Stu took me fishing in NZ, we walked a river until we spotted a fish, he rigged me up, handed me the rod and said, "he will eat this." you give a trout a good pattern where he wants it/how he wants it, he will eat it. and he did.

so anyway, by the end of my time (more on that shortly) we were deep midging - size 20 - 24 flies, starting with minimal weight and getting real heavy. putting those flies where the fish wanted them. and guess what - they ate 'em!

(Les with a nice Lake Fork brownie. below, the Gunnison)

when i was in Portland this past winter, i had two really unsatisfying temp jobs. they had their purpose - pay for bills and fun - but i hated going to work and i got very little out of the jobs besides money. it was there that i realized that some things would need to change, should i continue to pursue this guiding thing seasonally. one day i went to the craigslists of Denver, Portland, OR and Seattle, went to "jobs" and searched for "fishing", just to see what would come up. there were a handful of hits in each city, most were unappealing except for one, a Planner position in the R&D dept at a very well known fly fishing company. i thought to myself that i'd be an idiot to not even try, so fired off a cover letter and resume then promptly forgot about it.

a couple months later while on the ranch i received a voicemail from an HR lady at the company. i had three phone interviews, followed by an on-site interview, then was offered and accepted the position.

(above, doo-rag Drew. below, AJ nets another one)

so. i'm moving. further west, and a bit north this time. my new job and new locale are on Bainbridge Island, in the Sound off of Seattle.

(above, the Lake Fork of the Gunnison. below, Big Billy Gascoigne battles.)

so i've got some fishing to do. and some ground to cover. currently covering it, actually, more on that soon. new water and new species are ahead. i'm excited. the Olympic Peninsula will be in my backyard in a week and i plan to take a big bite out of it. or at least get some big bites taken out of what i put into its waters. i'm talking about fishing there.

in the last week before i left the ranch, i felt a range of emotions. excitement, anxiousness were certainly present as the days passed. it was time to get on the road. but i knew there would be some sad eventually. and it did come. a couple tears were running down my cheeks when i took this picture on my way out:

things change. things happen. people move. but it's all ok. sometimes you gotta go.

i hope everyone's well! talk to ya soon!

The Grass

so it's april now, and in Maine that means the beginning of spring. and the beginning of spring in Maine means one or two more snowstorms of winter. but, knock on wood, i think we've gotten past those last few winter weathers and should be able to take "spring" seriously now.

been working. sitting on my ass in an office. getting paid. paying bills. trying to, anyway. this off-season has seen me in a couple temp jobs. neither of them very fun, or extremely lucrative and pretty far from satisfying. did some temp work for Leon Leonwood and met some nice people there. but in this current job, i might venture to say the most satisfying part is when the paycheck comes in. pretty sure that's it. but i'm not here to complain. the grass is always greener on the other side of the street.

maybe it's about sacrifices. i have a shitty job, but i get to see my friends all week long. pretty damn hard to catch a trout in Maine in february, but i get to ride around on snowmobiles on the ice and eat breakfast sandwiches in an ice shack. ain't no ice fishing in New Zealand in february. i said it before, but whenever you do one thing, you're not doing another. that's obvious, but i think about it. too much maybe.

maybe i've been daydreaming too much. my "to-go-to" list is the longest it has ever been. thing about that grass is that you don't get no home, no neighbors, no local pizza shop and bartender who knows your name. get that apartment and you can't fish a new river, can't drive a new road, can't put any checks on that list, every day. stay on the road and watch that bank account drop. stay put and wish you didn't.

so where's the compromise? i want it all! i want a trout stream out back that i can fish every evening. i want a week-long vacation every other week, a six-month adventure every year. i want everyone i know and love within an hour. i want a house. i want an old friend in every city i've never been to. i want a campervan. i want a fat paycheck. i want the grass i got and that grass over there.

only one thing on that list i can't get. so what good is wanting it, when i can't have it? shit, i want to be in the NBA but it just ain't happening. guess i should be more thankful of the grass i do have. it's pretty nice grass.

t-minus a month and Loocoos and i roll west. might go a little south first though. then lucas is headed up to AK for the summer and i'm headed back to the 4UR and Goose Creek. yea, lookin' forward to that grass, boy. got my boy Chrismass playin in town this weekend and i'm gonna shake what my momma gave me. got some homecooked dinner with some friends tonight. got me a good forecast and some lines to wet on saturday. got me a week before i dance with some big fish down Florida way. got me some good grass here.

and whad'ya know, there's even some Grass outside!

Time

i guess it's been a solid month since i composed anything. time has passed. things have happened, like they always do. hello!

so i moved into an apartment in Portland. and whad'ya know, it's on good 'ol Emery st. so that makes the 3rd apartment on one street. 73, 85 and now 91 Emery. more on that later. but for now, a poem by a good friend, written on the banks of the Rio Grande.

He said his watch was too big for his wrist,
Kept sliding back and forth and back.
Every time he raised a hand to wave hello,
cast a line while he was fishing-
Even just flipping over a pillow at night,
that watch was always moving
And chafing across his skin.

Once he tole me that it bothered him,
All that back and forth of the watch,
So I said, Well why don't you just make it
Tighter, then you won't even notice it there.

But I knew he'd keep it loose
Cuz really it's about feeling those moments
On his skin.
That watch, always moving, always reminding
Him that time is just slightly big
So really, he should always feel it passing.

colorful colorado

greetings from the Creekside bunkhouse.

guests are here and are all over the place. we've been busy guiding, trips almost everyday, usually a morning and an afternoon trip. we've been putting some fish in the nets, giving backslaps and handshakes, and getting a little grease. i've met some great people while fishing.

this whole guiding thing? let me elaborate. alarm goes off at 6:20 am. snooze at least twice, sometimes three times, so that takes me to 6:36 or 6:44. into the shower, teeth brushed, contacts in, arrive at the EDR (employee dining room) around 7:10. grab a glass of o.j. and a plate of whatever's for breakfast. jesse's never had a breakfast stomach so just a small snack here. check the water flow of the creek and the river, write current flow on the flow board. put up the flags, get the brooms. sweep the lodge's front and side porch, steps and around the steps. sweep a couple bridges and the deck of Palmer (game/tv room). sweet another walkway then another deck and another set of stairs. on monday, wednesday and friday, get the fire house out and spray down the alley. sweep what the hose don't get. by this time hopefully i've been filled in on who i'm fishing with and where we're fishing. go get the trucks from the pit, make sure they're clean, then go get my fishing gear from my car and/or room. get some coolers ready for the guests. if necessary, grab a few flies from the lodge. mingle with guests and wait around until they're ready to hit the water. drive to the guests' station, rig up and start fishing. fish from 9 or 9:30 to 12:30ish. drive back to lodge, eat lunch, determine afternoon schedule. clean trucks, reload coolers, put waders back on, leave lodge by 2:00. fish from 2:00ish to 6:00ish, drive back to lodge. eat dinner. clean trucks, clean coolers, put trucks back in the pit. done.
fishing has been hot. when i arrived, flow in goose creek was roughtly 500 CFS. now it's down to 73. awesome level. perfect. hatches have started and fish are rising like the sun. we're stinging fish on a big stonefly dry called the designated hitter. also getting love on the good ol adams parachute, blue wing olive parachute, elk hair caddis and schroeder's caddis. nymphs working well are green copper johns, stoneflies still, a fly called a dirty bird and also the bird's nest. we should have strong hatches for another 2 to 3 weeks and then i think we'll be midging for a while.

i netted a five pound chromer for a guest yesterday and this morning had a beautiful 18" cutbow take a DH on the last cast of the morning. schwing!

the rio has been fishing well too. that's Boone and i's go-to spot to fish. i've been fishing two flies almost all the time - DH's with an elk hair dropper or a DH with a bird's nest dropper. Boone often elects to drift nymphs over rising fish, despite criticism from the other guides.

did an exploratory mission up to the upper stretches of Goose Creek and found some wild cutties which was great. just an amazing spot in the wimuniche wilderness. hike-in only. awesome.
on any given night at the bar in town there are 6 to 15 guides there. we've all befriended each other and share reports over banquet beers. a fun atmosphere for sure. some of the older guys have been guiding and fishing a long time. like, a lot longer than i've been alive. i try to listen closely when they get deep and/or philosophical. brain sauce, that is.

that's all for now, dish duty tonight. today i received my first paycheck since september of 2009. much needed. i hope everyone is well. tight lines and cold beers to all.
the river is why.