Use the force, Luke

We all have that inner voice. For some, it warns of the Obamacare Death Rays; thank God for the tin foil hats. Others find moral and ethical guidance from their inner angels. My inner voice, with a gravely, older tone, mutters about knot strength and tippet status.

I recall a winter day a few years ago. I was fishing a midge hatch over in the Croton watershed. In a pool against a piece of ledge the dorsal fin of a fish I initially mistook for a subsurface log porpoised in the frigid water.

I hooked that fish. Not on the Griffiths, but on the #22 zebra midge dropper that hung below it. The fight was slow and heavy with a fish made lethargic by the cold. It felt like I was fighting a piece of sunken wood. With a swish of his paddle tail, the Brown turned towards the riffle below. My rod dipped sharply and then sprang back. The end of my tippet had the hallmark of a poorly tied knot, the pig tail.

That day the voice chastised me severely. Not fifteen minutes before he warned me that I should retie the knot on the dropper. My frigid hands had made poor work and it didn't look right. My hands told him to shut the hell up. We fished that bad knot and suffered for it.

Last night I heard the voice several times. He muttered about a dropper knot securing a #18 Olive WD40. A nice fish took that one leaving me the pig's tail. He voiced his concern again about a kink in dropper tippet. "Doesn't look strong", he said. He was right. I got back three inches of tippet for my trouble. Later, he commented about the foolishness of using 6x on the dropper. A nice fish abraded the hell out of it on a rock. I got back a piece of scraggly tippet sans fly and fish.

The knot curmudgeon in my brain can usually get through the clutter, but not last night. I was too eager to fish and a good hatch had brought the trout up for the first time since the spring. A mixed swarm of Isos, late Summer Sulphurs, and BWOs were keeping the fish busy.

Sometimes it pays to slow down and listen to that internal voice though I'm sure this is not the last time I'll ignore him. Especially when the fish are on on the surface on an early fall evening.

Come November

I will not be fishing Pulaski. Maybe December.

Fly Fishing Vibes Pulaski + Hooké! from HOOKÉ on Vimeo.

Grumpy Old (and young) Men

I know some fly shops get crap for their attitude. Folks with money to spend walk in, the fly shop owner gives them a half-hearted "hey" or worse/less and goes back to the web surfing/magazine reading that you interrupted. Other times you walk in and there's a BS session going on and you get ignored (Full disclosure: Sometimes I'm one of those folks in the BS session distracting the shopkeep from attending to your needs).

I know there's myriad reasons for why a shopkeep may not be as eager as you'd otherwise expect. Listed below are a few hypotheses:

1. The last person in the shop had no interest in buying anything, they just wanted some free intel on river conditions.
2. The last person they helped to select a rod thanked them saying "I can get it cheaper on the internet."
3. The shopkeep is a guide doing indentured servitude behind the register cause he doesn't have a float today. He barely knows how to use the register much less how to sell you anything. He can tie a blood knot blindfolded.
4. You're the forty-second person through the door today who can't spell Baetis much less understand how it's the best hatch to fish and only knuckle-dragging morons fish anything larger than a #22 dry.
5. You're the forty-third person through the door today who clearly is not a local and will probably never return and actually buy anything. No extra attention for you.
6. You're the 17th sun-dress wearing tourist to enter and ask if they have a public restroom.
7. The shopkeep is a curmudgeon and should probably be in another line of business.

I'm sure there are others.

I walked into a West Yellowstone fly shop last week. It's one of the big name shops in town. Inside there were two shopkeeps. Behind the counter was a guide doing penance. Seated on a stool was a more senior member of the team, he looked managerial. I'm the only person in the shop. I'm dressed in full fly angling costume: requisite cap with fish on it, Simm's shirt, quick dry pants.

I had two interesting conversations in my short time in the shop.

Conversation 1: A fishing license.

Guy on Stool: Hey.
Me: Hi. I need a fishing license for Yellowstone. Can I get that here or do I have to buy it in the park?
GOS: You can get that here.
M: Great!

GOS: [This space intentionally left blank. Clearly my desire for a license does not seem certain or immediate. GOS is stoic]

Me: [Pause while standing in front of GOS looking hopeful, perhaps plaintive]

After a painful amount of time, perhaps only twenty seconds, I can take it no longer.

M: Can we do that now?
GOS: Sure. [GOS rises and a license is procured]

Conversation 2: Flies for the Lamar

I wander over to the fly bins and clearly seem bewildered.

Me: I'm going to fish the Lamar in the next few days. Would you recommend Hoppers?
GOS: That might work. Also, the Drakes are coming off. You might try a Green Drake.
Guide: Yeah, I fished Drakes there yesterday and they seemed to work.

Me: I have hoppers but I don't have one of those Drakes.
GOS: [Stoic yet again.]
G: [Silent]
Me: What fly would you recommend for a Drake pattern?
GOS: Over in the bin to your right on the bottom row you'll find some.

I continue to be bewildered.

Shortly GOS joins me to sort through an overwhelming selection.

GOS to G: Which ones were your fishing?
G: The ones with the shiny abdomen

I procure forty dollars worth of flies.

I felt in both conversations I had to ask for them to sell me something. I don't need someone following me around the shop like a puppy dog, but these experiences were unnecessarily painful. Worse, I was in this shop last year and got the same treatment. Clearly I'm a slow learner. I'll go somewhere else next time.

The flip side of all that

If you own a fly shop and you want to learn how they should: a) be organized, b) be staffed, and c) integrate customer relationship best practices (internet/mail marketing) visit Little River Outfitters in Townsend, TN. Those guys have their game on. Friendly. Courteous. Helpful. And they didn't let me leave without getting my email address.

When Mike and I visited they asked where we were fishing, recommended a few spots we should try and even pointed out some flies we should purchase. All without being asked. They made a quick sale and, more importantly, got me in the mood for buying. I picked up more flies than I would otherwise have done so and even bought supplies that I didn't need (though those extra leaders came in handy in Yellowstone).

My Favorite Small Stream*

If one were to sit down in a large sand box and design a perfect small stream -- plentiful cover, clear, cold waters, meandering bend pools, undercut runs -- it would probably end up looking a whole lot like the Gibbon River above Virginia Cascade.

This stream seems purpose made for trout though back in the late 1800s it was described as troutless. In fact, the only fish that had historically been present in this portion of the river was the mottled sculpin. Natural barriers like Virginia Cascade blocked the upstream migration of trout. Today it holds a vigorous population of Brook Trout that were stocked through the early part of the 20th century.

Over the coming years, the Yellowstone National Park Native Fish Conservation Plan indicates this water will be changed to a Westslope Cutthroat and Grayling fishery. This will require the elimination of non-native species via chemical poisoning and then the establishment of fish that are native to the area. While there is a vocal minority that opposes the establishment of more native fish in the park, I'm all for it.

For now, the Brookie fishing is excellent. It took me a while to dial in the secret fly: #14 Adams. Once that was sorted out, the fishing was close to easy.** Every likely spot and most of the unlikely spots held trout from 6-9 inches. I look forward to a time when this stream will be full of equally eager Cutthroat and Grayling.

Notes:
* In Yellowstone. From last week's trip.
** I've probably cursed myself by saying so and will not catch a trout for the remainder of the year.

Back

I'm back from a long weekend in Idaho/Wyoming. The week before was chock full of fire fighting at work to prep for departure and now I'm digging out the email bin.

In lieu of forthcoming trip reports, I submit the following.

Where the lake trout live. Bastards.

Gibbon Meadows Brown Trout. A gusty wind plus hoppers = Trout.

Brookie Rainbrown. Or maybe it's a Lamar Cuttbow. One or t'other.