Tag Archives: Orvis

One Big Fish

April 27, 2016 admin

For the last seven years I make it a point to spend a few days chasing native rainbow trout in the North Platte River outside of Casper, Wyoming. The fishery is special and cherished by the anglers that have made the area their second home. During my first three years it was not uncommon to hook a dozen fish over twenty inches long. In fact, the river always offered me an opportunity to do battle with at least one monster trout during my trip. Over the last three years, the number of fish hooked remains astounding. A seventy-five trout day is achievable and, at some level, expected. The one thing missing, however, are the giant bows.

Family commitments required Chad and me to push our trip out three weeks as well as shorten it by two days. Our first morning proved to be successful as we experienced plenty of consistent action. We figured out the feeding pattern, and employed a #14 red juju baetis along with a trailing #20 red zebra midge to secure many of the strikes. As the afternoon evolved we made our way to a popular stretch that produced for us in the past. The flow was down, limiting areas to fish. Additionally, this section of the Platte has been discovered as the number of fisherman in the water has quadrupled. As we waded into the current, we observed at least fifteen people manning desirable spots up river. To that point, we were forced to fish a sub-optimal but available hole. Maintaining the same flies on my nymphing rig, I made my initial cast into a darker, deeper seam. Almost immediately my indicator plunged and I set the hook. My line remained firm, so I stepped into deeper water to remove the apparent snag. Suddenly, my line made an abrupt shift and rocketed away from me. I could feel the weight of the fish and it was noticeably different. Realizing I had hooked a big trout on a small midge, I positioned myself for what I anticipated would be a lengthy battle. The bow remained low in the water column, and moved with purpose when I attempted to cut the distance between us. There is an eddy on the far bank, and my initial thought was to try to coax the fish into the slower water. My objective was to ensure the trout never got below me as I knew the small fly would not remain embedded in the fish’s jaw. Fortunately, he continued to move up river which allowed me to slowly take back a portion of my fly line. I removed my net from the magnetic clip and prepared to land the trout. He was still energized and darted upstream evading my attempt to capture him. I walked behind the fish and continued to reel. Once my indicator neared my rod tip, I gently raised the fly rod. The buck swam to the top and I netted him. The twenty-two-inch fish was the largest I had landed in recent years. Chad snapped some pictures then I returned him to the river.

I feel fortunate to have hooked and landed a North Platte leviathan. The big fish are still around; you just have to get a bit lucky.

Visit Mark and his team at the Platte River Fly Shop. They sell me the flies that are actually working.

Video: Relaxing on the Platte

Hunting

A Late Season Colorado Pheasant Hunt

January 7, 2016 admin

New Year’s Eve means two things at this point in my life; a vacation day and the eve of my oldest son’s birthday. Gone are the days of big parties, a few too many cocktails and staying up all night. To that point, I planned an early morning bird hunting trip to my favorite Walk in Areas in Eastern Colorado. My lofty goal was to have my limit by early afternoon, and be back in time for a celebratory family dinner. Jeremy, Kessler, Pride and I loaded up at five a.m. and hit the road.

Upon arriving at the first field at 8 a.m., we noticed tire tracks in the six inches of recently fallen snow. After closer inspection, it looked as though the hunter only covered the northern part of the long CRP field the prior day. We moved to the southern edge, and worked the dogs west. Our thirty minute walk produced one hen that was sitting tight on the edge of a large corn field. Disappointed that we did not see more birds, I made a phone call to a local rancher who allows me to hunt his property. Ron recently moved into a new home, but he still has access to the land he leased for years. He asked us not to hunt the northern switchgrass strips, as his cousins were coming out to hunt in January. After thanking him profusely, we hastily made our way to the prime area. Just to the north of the house, there is a one hundred and fifty yard shelterbelt that always has a few birds hiding within the junipers. Leaving Pride in his crate, Jeremy, Kessler and I pinched the tree row from the east and west. Weaving through the eight foot trees, we worked our way toward one another. As I focused on the cover to my left, I heard a bird get up behind me then a successive shot. The plan worked as Jeremy bagged the first rooster of the day.

Given the explicit direction of the rancher, we drove to the southern edge of the property and unloaded. The cover is pristine; deep grass abutting corn. Additionally, no one had hunted the land in over a month. Leaving Pride in the truck, Jeremy, Kessler and I worked our way west keeping about twenty five yards between us. Pheasant tracks became evident just off the county road. I anticipated birds were running to evade their pursuers. Without warning, dozens of pheasants started to flush wild. My first instinct was to sprint to the action, but experience told me to be patient. I was rewarded minutes later with a dozen birds jumping up within twenty five yards. I selected a lone rooster moving into the cornfield and fired three unsuccessful shots. Disappointed in my performance, I reloaded my Benelli Ethos and marched forward. Cursing at my inability to execute, I tried to focus on immediate improvement. Literally dozens of pheasants continued to get up about seventy five yards from our position. Jeremy and I commented on the incredible scene taking place in front of us. The bird population in Eastern Colorado is recovering, and it was now evident. About three quarters of the way into the field I stopped. A nervous hen flew into the cornfield followed by a lone rooster flying away to the west. A single HEVI-SHOT round took him down, and Kessler made the retrieve. With a bird in my Orvis Upland Sling Pack we worked our way to the far western edge of the field. Realizing that we were pushing birds, I picked up my pace in order to ensure that our prey would not escape into the adjacent cornfield. As I turned the corner, I saw a rooster sprinting back into the thick ironweed. I yelled to Jeremy as the pheasant took flight. He made a perfect swing, and downed the bird with one proficient shot.

We made a decision to walk back to the east, as we did not want to disturb the acreage close to headquarters. It did not take long before a rooster jumped out of the tall grass and took flight. My first shell missed to his left, but my follow up shot knocked the bird out of the air. We witnessed more pheasants taking flight, but none that encouraged a shot.

It was lunchtime, so we decided to visit friends in the area as we had Christmas gifts.

I am not certain that I will get out again this season. Pride is officially retired. He does not have the ability to navigate fields any longer. I will miss watching him hunt.

Video: Another Great Day Hunting Pheasants on the Eastern Plains of Colorado

Hunting

Pride Circa 2015

November 27, 2015 admin 4 Comments

I did not anticipate that my 12.5-year-old lab, Pride, would make our annual upland hunting trip. He was diagnosed with cancer in June, and had part of his left front paw amputated. His gate after the surgery was noticeably awkward, and moderate running became strenuous. As I attempted to get him prepared for the 2015 season, he tired quickly, and did not seem enthused when we threw the bumper. As our trip neared, I was conflicted on what I should do. I am fortunate to have buddies that own quality, hard-working gun dogs. Hunting over them is a privilege. That said, the experience in the field is enhanced when you’re working in harmony with your own dog; a dog that skillfully corners a running rooster, a dog that locates a crippled bird in deep cover, and a dog that forgives you when you miss an easy shot.

On Wednesday evening I made the decision to bring Pride on the trip. He would not hunt large fields, or be put in situations that would tax his mind and body. Additionally, I brought all relevant medications to ensure that he remained comfortable during the journey.

Five of us arrived in the northeast corridor of Colorado at about nine am on Thursday, November 19^th. I am familiar with the Walk in Area (WIA) fields in this part of the state. The drought that plagued this region over the prior three years made hunting challenging. Bird populations decreased substantially as the habitat disappeared. Thankfully, most of Colorado received adequate precipitation throughout 2015, and early season reports were promising. I surveyed the land once I arrived at our first field. The CRP was noticeably higher, and I hoped that would result in consistent action.

Hunting Pride in the first couple of fields was not an option. The cover was too thick, and the walks were too long. I made a call to a friend who is a landowner in this part of the state. He gave us permission to hunt his property. Our initial private field has a center pivot irrigation machine that abuts the county road. Tall grass and tumble weeds sit below the drag hoses. The deep cover parallels a large cornfield harvested weeks prior to our visit. We manned each end of the agricultural equipment and worked towards the center. Pride walked with determination and excitement as we executed the pinching technique. His tail became noticeably active, and he picked up the pace, signifying there were pheasants present. Unfortunately the first two roosters flushed wild and out of shotgun range. A third rooster flew out of the cover thirty yards in front of me. I took immediate aim then fired three quick rounds at the evasive bird. Unfortunately, I did not connect, and was forced to yell “no bird” as Pride headed into the cut cornfield. When the hunters met somewhere in the middle of the field, a final rooster flew, and it was quickly taken down by a flurry of skillful shots.

We made our way to another private section of land that always holds a large amount of pheasants. It is critical to approach the long row of tall junipers from both the north and south. We set up a blocker at the far west end in order to prevent birds from easily escaping. There is a significant amount of cover throughout the shelterbelt that includes two large, deep pits. Cornfields line both sides of the trees, which makes a quiet approach almost impossible. As we moved through the area we noticed a pile of new shotgun shells, indicating that others had recently hunted the land. Given the disappointing facts, three of the guys started to head back to the trucks. Pride and I marched further west, still hoping that there were birds held up in a small patch of cover one hundred yards from the prime area. As I approached the edge of the field the distinct sound of a pheasant taking flight caused me to turn one hundred and eighty degrees. There were two roosters already in the air and moving in different directions. I focused on the bird moving to my right and fired a HEVI-SHOT round from my Benelli Ethos 12 gauge. The right wing of the pheasant was struck, but he successfully glided fifty yards into the middle of the cut cornfield. Pride was already running, but his lack of speed undermined any ability to successfully mark the downed bird. I ran right to the position where I believed the bird landed. I asked Pride to hunt dead and positioned him into the wind. For fifteen minutes, I watched him move carefully up and down the cornstalk rows. Suddenly his turns tightened and his body lowered. He stopped on point, staring intently at a pile of brush. Watching with amazement, Jeremy and I waited for Pride to move. He dove into the cover and grabbed the wounded bird. I was elated at Pride’s performance. He accomplished a feat I thought impossible given his age and medical condition. We took pictures and I ended his day. I could have headed back home as my trip was already a resounding success.

Eight of us enjoyed four great days in the field. Successfully hunting both public and private land throughout Eastern Colorado and Western Kansas. Pride continued to surprise me, finding birds in the nastiest cover. Given his remarkable performance, we will hunt again this season.

Our First Field

Product	Comment
Benelli Ethos (12 Gauge)	I shot pretty well the entire trip. The only birds I missed were my fault. The gun performed flawlessly in some pretty cold weather.
HEVI-SHOT Pheasant	Every bird I hit eventually died. The load packs a serious punch.
SoundGear	Bob and I wore our SoundGear hearing protection during the entire trip. We love the sound amplification in conjunction with the protection.
Orvis Upland Sling Pack	I was cautiously optimistic when I purchased this pack. It performed very well in the field. Comfortable and everything is easily accessible.
onXmaps	Imperative on this trip. Needed to distinguish public from private land. A must for all hunters and fisherman.
Irish Setter King Toe	I LOVE these boots. We walked 10 miles a day and my feet were so comfortable and warm.
Oakley Racing Jacket	Would not hunt without these shades. They perform very well in low light conditions. The lenses are easily scratched so protect them with a case.
SportDOG UPLANDHUNTER 1875	The best e-collar in the market for upland hunters.
Sylmar Body & Paw Protection	I recommend these products to all of my friends that own gun dogs.
Sitka Ballistic Beanie	Awesome hat that keeps you warm. Too warm when the air temperature crests 30 degrees.

Fishing

Here We Go Again

July 23, 2015 admin

I don’t get to fish often. As with my contemporaries, work and family take priority at this time in life. To that point, when I do fish, I like to venture to spots that put the odds of success in my favor. Colorado fly fishing in the summer means Spinney Mountain Reservoir, callibaetis nymphs and a Gold Medal fishery. Timing the trip is critical, as you need to be certain that the hatch is actually coming off. If Poxybacks and Flashback Hare’s ears are being purchased in mass at local fly shops, I go ahead and schedule a day off from the job. In late June of 2015, I was told by some reliable friends who fish the lake regularly that they spotted trout rolling close to shore.

I arrived at Brad’s house at 5 am, and we immediately hit the road. It would be the first time Brad had fished this area in more than 25 years of living in Colorado. The wet weather in the Rockies during the spring and early summer made the rivers uniquely high and fast. The waters flowing into Spinney were so heavy that the entire landscape has changed. Areas that had produced in prior years were no longer accessible for wading fisherman. Weed lines that hold the hatching callibaetis nymphs weren’t visible. I started to succumb to a bit of doubt as things were not as they once were. Adapting to the situation, Brad and I worked our way along the eastern shoreline, scanning the relatively calm water for porpoising fish. While there was no visible action, Brad located a deep drop just off a point. There was milfoil present, so we decided to rig up and start fishing. It took a while, but a fish boiled about 30 yards to my left. Once in range, I laid a cast in the general vicinity of where I witnessed the feeding fish. I use an Amy’s Ant as my indicator, and hang a #10 Flashback Hare’s Ear about four feet beneath the dry. My initial twitch caused a violent strike, as the trout attacked the nymph. A weak hook-set while the fish darted at me, had me scrambling to recover line. The trout worked his way to my left, then spit the hook after an impressive acrobatic leap. Disappointed at my performance, I checked my flies then started to make casts in and around the closest weed line. It did not take long for the next fish to slam my callibaetis imitation, and move hard to my right. The fight lasted a bit longer than anticipated, as the trout was all of 23” and powerful. Fired up and ready for more action, I waded into deeper water angling toward a visible clump of weeds. Once my Ant landed I gave two slight twitches, and the Hydros HD line began screaming toward me. I stripped vigorously and pumped my rod until I felt weight on my line. She abruptly turned and sped to the north when her head grazed my Orvis River Guard Brogue boots. Having witnessed the massive fish up close, I felt real pressure to land the trout. It took another 5 minutes to successfully net the 6lb fish. She was easily the largest bow I had ever landed at Spinney.

I hooked and landed 4 more impressive trout over the next few hours. One of my last fish of the day slurped the Amy’s Ant just a few feet from my position in the water. I watched a black head subtly surface, grab and make off with the floating fly. It was the most thrilling take in my over 8 years of fly fishing. The imagery of the experience will always be emblazoned in my mind.

Spinney 2015 Video

Equipment

Reel	Fly Rod	Waders	Line	Pack	Camera
Mirage	Helios 2	Silver Sonic	Hydros HD	Safe Passage	Intova

Fishing

One Pretty Hen

May 28, 2014 admin 2 Comments

Whether you’re fishing or hunting, public land access is competitive and often challenging. The philosophy is usually “first come, first served”. Additionally, the hottest spots are hotly contested. An abundance of fishermen means that the fish see many flies. By definition, they’re challenging to hook. To that point, when you have located a secluded spot that holds an abundance of big fish, it becomes a well-guarded secret.

My friend, Chad, had told me that his dad recently discovered a barely touched fishery holding a plethora of world-class rainbow trout. Joe had fished the area in late April, and had landed a few bows over ten pounds. With that in mind, we blocked off an afternoon in mid-May to fish the spot. The drive was two hundred and twenty miles, and it had us traversing through some gnarly country. Upon arrival, we noticed a single fisherman making his way around the waterway. A powerful westerly wind forced him to demonstrate his casting prowess. It was not long before we witnessed him skillfully hook and land a few fish. As he made his way to the shore, we asked him a series of questions regarding his success that day. He told us that the morning bite was strong; landing over fifteen fish with sizes ranging from 18” to 22” inches. Double hare’s ears stripped aggressively were the flies of choice. We thanked the man for sharing valuable intelligence. Then, Chad, Joe and I made our way into the water. It did not take but a few minutes before Chad noticed three enormous shadows cruising just in front of us. As fast as they appeared, they were gone. Chad and I tied on a custom designed crayfish pattern, and Joe decided to throw an olive damsel fly. Given the twenty mile an hour northwesterly wind, I worked hard to make mediocre casts on a forty five degree angle. On my tenth cast my fly was hit hard, but my hook set was late. The fish rolled high in the water column, then disappeared.

By mid-afternoon, the three of us had fished hard, but had no results. The wind proved a challenge, and the morning action had obviously shut off. As Joe was telling me that he was going to take a break, a fish slammed his damsel imitation. A long fight ensued. Eventually, Joe brought the stout fish to the shore. She was not over ten pounds, but was still very impressive. There was another lull in the action, so all of us made repeated fly changes. Not surprisingly, Joe found a pattern that started to produce intense and repeated action. Utilizing a #12 bead head hare’s ear, and a custom designed nymph dropper, Joe methodically stripped his line. As the flies neared his standing position, he gently raised his rod tip. It was at that point, the trout ate the caddis imitation. Given Joe’s success, I tied on the same hare’s ear with a flashback pheasant tail trailer. I carefully observed Joe’s movements, and I began employing the technique. On my fourth cast I slowly raised my rod tip as the flies neared me, and I felt dead weight, so I set the hook. The fish, only a few yards from my position in the water, moved with purpose to my right. I was able to see her side as she passed me, so I knew she was big. The headshakes became increasingly violent, and I feared the fish would break off. My friend Slade told me to not mess around with big fish, and get them to the net quickly. With his sage advice in mind, I reeled hard, and walked back toward shore. When I saw the leader, I grabbed my net and leaned back, guiding the massive rainbow into my net. The fish was so big, she would not fit into my 26” Brodin. My largest trout on a fly measured twenty six and three quarter inches, and weighed nine pounds. We took a few pictures, and I carefully released her.

We fished for another few hours with limited success. I did manage to hook up with a beautiful twenty one inch Yellowstone cutthroat. A Monster Rehab Green Tea energy drink, along with frequent memories of my trout, made the two hundred and twenty mile drive back seem like teleportation. The secret spot produces, and my Garmin now has the coordinates.

Hunt Fish Golf Work