Sunday, November 17, 2019

Last Warm-water day of 2019

Partridge Run 

As the crisp, cold, morning on a Saturday alerted me I realized, I didn't have much time left. Winter was coming. I aligned my senses. I thought about my plans... I had none that pressing. I went back into the house and asked my wife if I could go fishing. She said yes. She almost always says yes but I feel less guilt if I have approval. I grabbed my recently purchased belly boat and was off.

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A steal at $85.00

Tubbs Pond in all its splendor. This was the reason I purchased the belly boat.

This fish was a bit Crappie. (He he)

A colored up Perch.

A PJ (Pike Junior) on the fly. Chain pickerel are too much fun!

I had no water craft before this trip. I had a feeling the other side would be good but its closed off due to trees, weeds, and a deep shoreline. I had been planning to get to the other side for the past 2 years. As I finally started paddling (kicking) back to the dock to end my season; I couldn't believe that for $85.00 this was possible. Better late than never.

The fly that caught most of the fish that day.

Monday, November 11, 2019

Vato Caddis

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One of my favorite caddis patterns. It fishes great as a dropper if you tie white calf-rail on top of the foam.

Thursday, November 7, 2019

Metolius River

I came along way to get here. I don't see how this view could ever get old. Mind you, this was in late June.

The first stop on this leg of my trip was The Wizard Falls Hatchery.

Red band rainbow trout in a holding pen.

Still waiting for the tug, this little guy waited with me.

My first Red band trout. Hopefully not my last.

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

Traveling ( Oregon Splendor in Smith Rock) Part 1 of 4

I was diagnosed with a severe heart condition years ago. I did the only thing any sensible fly fisher would... I formulated a plan; one big trip a year.  I said to myself that when I had the money I would see the world, or, at least as much as I could. In June 2018 I boarded a plane headed west. Touching down in Redmond, Oregon was the beginning of years of ruminating, hours of dreaming, and seconds of anticipation.
    Only when faced with death do some of us finally summon the courage to live. I was alive.

My journey would consist of 4 legs.

1. Crooked River, Smith Rock
2. Lower Deschutes River
3. Crooked River, Lone Pine
4. Metolius River

Smith Rock

The view literally took my breathe away. I always thought that phrase was moronic until I was the moron it was happening to. The basalt outcroppings which emanate from dry, withered desert are almost to massive for my Upstate NY accustomed eyes.  

A hiker saw me with my fly rod and said, "Your wasting your time. The only thing in here is whitefish." I just nodded in agreement. If I had explained to him the Mountain Whitefish was the reason I was here he would have thought me mad. Life and the experience of it always comes down to perspective.

The Reason

And still another

Smith Rock is believed to be the home of Sport-climbing in the U.S.

Driving back to my hotel, the snow capped mountain glistening in the setting sun like Mountain Whitefish-scale gave this trip an otherworldly, multiverse aspect and feel. Nothing about this excursion felt familiar; exactly as I had been hoping for years, hours, and seconds.

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Home Waters

The home waters of any fisherman hold dear memories. Sometimes the memory is more valued than the experience. Dreams can be reborn, a stirred soul can be at ease.I find solace in the vivid images that dance in the dark corners of my mind. My memory illuminating my cerebral dance floor bringing these images into the spotlight.

Home water Smallmouth.

A small frog found streamside brought a welcomed diversion. He was prismatic in various shades of greens and olives.

Ever the steward of nature, Garett made sure our diversion was not to much of an intrusion on our new friend. Back you go beautiful frog ( WINK...WINK...)!

As the light in the sky began to fade leaving gentle crimsons hues, it was difficult to imagine where the cloud crests were emanating from. How far away were we? Close enough to see the beams pierce through the dusk and play about on top of leaves of corn.

I can not define true friendship in words. I believe the look on our faces sums it up. Only an outdoors-man would have a grin after traipsing miles through a chin high field of corn to find their way home.

Thursday, May 24, 2018


While fishing the local reservoir the blue gill action was heavy.
I caught this beauty on this :

Another beautiful, colored up bruiser on this Snowhite damsel...

Wait for it...

The trout pond was not producing so I switch gears. I almost brought these boys home to live in my aquarium but I thought about prisons and how soul drenching they are. Back you go gorgeous fish!