her maiden voyage...

On paper it's spring! Contractually, then, birds should be serenading each other in hopes of getting laid. Chlorophyll production should start to see an increase as new plant growth begins to resume following months of dormancy. Warmth should, by default, blanket the land with ole man winter leaving for his pilgrimage to the Southern Hemisphere.

Not so! At least not in the sleepy town of Dutch John, UT. Take a glass globe, fill it with white grains and a hodgepodge of buildings, such as, cabins, gas stations, trailers, boats, houses, and a church. Now, add the liquid component. Flip the globe upside down, shake gently for 10 secs. Congratulations, you created the current conditions in Dutch John. The only item missing is the Vince Guaraldi soundtrack. 

Given the conditions, then, you understand why I initially didn't want to go. I found the wood stove to be strongly persuasive. Perfect weather for a hot beverage and a good book. But the bugs! The hatch would arrive on cue and I would be guaranteed a blank if I remained in the warmth. Discomfort is only temporary. 

 Photo credit: Darren Bowcutt

The temperature peaked at 32 degrees as I backed the boat on the ramp located below the dam. Fresh snow clung to the canyon walls and trees as more snow began to fall. The air was silent, not even the slightest breeze. 

Midges scurried about on the water's surface without the slightest concern for the danger lurking beneath. Some newly hatched midges waited for their wings to harden, while others began the task of looking for a mate. An appetizer, if you will, for the nearby birds and trout. The main course would arrive a bit later in the form of a larger bug: a mayfly, more specifically, a blue-wing olive. Even with the size of a pea for a brain, trout keyed in on the opportunities to feast and began to look up. We could actually see their noses break the surface of the water. Gentle surps could be seen as well as the more violent takes similar to a shark breaching the water sending a seal cartwheeling to it's immanent demise. 

On this particular day, the trout had their heads up earlier on the river than in previous days. Within a mile of the put-in, the first fish arrived in the boat courtesy of an aerial take. This pattern continued throughout the day increasing with intensity as we traveled downstream. At one point, both lines were dancing with fish: a double. 

Photo credit: Ryan Kelly

Despite the larger snow flakes that began to fall or the tinier ice that came in waves, the bugs continued to hatch and the fish continued to take advantage. We, therefore, continued to fish. It was the only logical solution. We ignored or, perhaps, tolerated the unpleasant absence of sunlight and the consequences associated to remain surrounded by pools of rising fish. A 16 year-old scotch provided some motivation as well. 

The maiden voyage was a success. Great company, beautiful views, and healthy, rising fish. Life on the Green. 

Photo credit: Brad Lovejoy

Care to join? 

this is a story about a girl, her boat, and her truck...

Photo credit: Steve Oualline 

Before we get too committed to this story, let's reverse time and travel back 12 months. I'm sitting in a cramped sardine can traveling westward with thoughts of arid landscapes burdened with the weight of the scorching sun, spending months traveling along a dirt path filled with angry plants and hungry mountain lions. I planned to take it one step at a time with the constant reminder that I'm stronger than I think. Three days into the trek my body refused to cooperate. My left ribs screamed under the weight of 6 liters of water and 20 lbs of food and gear. I had failed. Two years of planning reduced to three days on trail. 

We rented a car, selected a series of national parks we've always wanted to visit, and slowly convinced our defeated selves that it would get better. Mount Shasta was inundated with snow so we set our sights on Utah. Briefly stopped in Redding, CA to return a gift to Mike Mercer, who works at the Fly Shop. Mike provided a boron 3x 5 wgt fly rod, flies, tippet, and local river knowledge.  The following day, during the fly tying expo held at the sundial bridge, I had guest speakers interrogate me in regards to fly patterns and techniques while fishing the Sacramento. I needed this. I may have not been strong enough to continue my long distance hiking lifestyle, but this moment helped fuel an internal passion that began as a child. 

After a quick trip through Arches, we drove late into the night to camp by the mecca of dry fly-fishing: the Green below Flaming Gorge Reservoir.  Mesmerizing. Life-changing. Clear water meandering through red, sandstone cliffs. Browns. Beautiful, healthy browns casually sipping tiny mayflies off the surface. I didn't want to leave this place, this moment. 

I didn't. Trout Creek Flies generously offered me a position in the fly shop for the season. This simultaneously postpone my embarrassing homecoming from my failed hike and allowed me the opportunity to inudate myself in all things fly-fishing. During this time, I shared my goal of competing nationally in fly-fishing with a coworker in the shop. Our discussion led to the thought of using my teaching background and combining it with my passion to fish. I could ruin many a people  with fly-fishing just like I had for over a decade with students in areas involving all things biological. I could become a fly-fishing guide. The seed had been planted! 

There were several hurdles before this idea could completely develop into reality. I needed to learn how to row a drift boat...I mean, really row it. Maintain long, drag-free drifts rowing. Not just a recreational row, row, row your boat. There was nothing gentle about this approach to fishing. Also, I'd need to own a boat in order to row a boat. There's also that pesky problem of moving the boat around off water. Could I find another truck of awesomeness? I never found the border  of Canada while walking on foot. Would I be able to find the strength to row hard for miles each and every day? Would my body fail me a second time? 

To answer these questions, I need to tell you a story about a girl, her boat, and her truck. She guides on the Green running Western Rivers Flyfisher stickers. She is strong. She intends to ruin you. She wants you to read water rather than simply admiring the ebbs and flows. She wants you driven to look for the bugs and correctly identify them rather than being fearful of your six-legged friends.  She wants you excited to be outside rather than being content in a four-walled cubicle. She wants you intuned with each movement of air, scent released by neighboring plants, change in the temperature, and naturally produced sound. She wants you to respect nature and understand that we are merely a part of this great universe. She wants you to feel alive and strong. To be independent and confident. And she wants to put you on fish. 

This blog is her story.