"Stripahs"

"Hey!  I've got an idea!  Let's go fishing together!"

"Sounds good to me, ties some flies with this feather!"

"I will, I'll make them look like squids."

"Good. I'll pick you up at the airport and we'll giggle like kids!"

"Get Wik down there too, he likes striped bass."

"No doubt, he'll be there when we arrive, likely half-drunk and on his ass!"

"Roger that.  Here's a picture of my box.  My fly box, that is."

"I like the looks of your box, sir.  Looks tasty to me.  A fine looking box it is!"

"Look at her!  I haven't seen her in years!"

"She's gorgeous, ain't she.  Almost brings me to tears!"

"There's a man casting down there; he looks to have a beard."

"Indeed he does.  I hear while fly fishing, he is to be feared."

"I can confirm such a claim, I have seen it first-hand."

"Same here.  Hey, what would you think if Darius and Ray combined and made a band?"



"Which one should I tie on?"
"I don't know, try this one.  It's made with hair from a fawn."
"Right on!  They should be able to see it, at the least."
"Oh they'll see it, and upon it they will feast!"
"I'll cast on this side, you take the other!"
"Oh shit, you hooked one!  Good one!  Now I'll catch his big brother!"

"There's one!  Did you see that?!"
"Oh my soul, it just destroyed fly, flat!"
"Let it run!  Keep it tight!  Pull on that thing!"
"I'm pulling!  Yeeeeeeaaaaaaa boy, listen to that reel sing!"

"First one to catch one gets a beer, eh!"
"I'm on sir, I'll take a cold IPA!"
"Ah, you've won, OK.  But look, I'm on now and I think mine's bigger!"
"I'm not so sure.  See if you can land that and then we'll figure!"

"Do you think that chick is hot?"
"Yes.  Do you or do you not?"
"I do not.  Ask me again in three beers."
"I'll ask you again in three years!"

"Hang on to your britches, big wave on its way."
"Move us thirty yards that way, wha'd'ya say?"
"10-4, here's your shot, make it count."
"On!  Y'know, I was thinking of someday getting a fish mount..."

"That's a good one, wha'd'ya say we bring one back for the boys?"
"Great idea, put him in the box and then hand me that fly box of toys."
"We should get some jalapenos for the ceviche tonight."
"Yea, that, and another thirty beers should make it just right!"

"Seen any?"
"A few, mostly going away.  Not many."
"They're in there though, eh?"
"For sure, tricky guys on the flat today."
"Well, at least it's not as windy as it was."
"Yup, casting into the wind blowin' right at ya, just 'cause."

"Well, we all got one, that's not bad."
"We usually do, I think.  Let's get back to the pad."
"Right on, time to settle into some dinner."
"To be sure, with all this good eats, I'm not getting thinner."

"We should do that again, captain."
"I agree, we tend to have a good time when we fish together, it's certain."
"Where to next?  BC?  OP?  NY?  Lots of places to see."
"All in due time, next up, the STP!"

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.

Sportsman Double

I ended up with an older woman at a club last night, she looked pretty good for a 60-year-old. In fact she wasn't too bad at all, and I found myself thinking that she probably had a really hot daughter. We drank a bit (well more than a bit), we had a snuggle, and she asked me if I ever had a "sportsman double"? "Whats that?" I asked. "It's a mother and daughter threesome," she said. "Oh," I said as my mind began to embrace the idea. "No, I haven't." And I wondered what this daughter of hers might look like. We drank a bit more, then she says with a wink that tonight was 'my lucky night'. I went back to her place and walked in hoping for the best night of my life. She puts on the hall light and shouted upstairs, "Mom, you still awake?"

The conception of the coffee brandy...

Dr. Steelegood: Hey, do we have milk?

00Steele: Yes.

Dr. Steelegood: Ok.

00Steele: I'll take one, I'll pause it.

There is no reward for the foolish

There were no musky caught,

But, going against good advice and fuled by ideas of big fish in pretty country I got up at 3am and met my friends to drive 5 hours north and west in search of toothy fish. We arrived and set up camp to what one old timer described as the least amount of water he has heard of in three generations.

The idea of looking for holding water with cover for fish was shot. There were no streams dumping water in , or likely looking side channels, instead there were deep pools ( 18" or less) of water to investigate fruitlessly.

We camped at the confluence of these two bodies of what used to be famous flowing water and did some fishing and relaxing. As the night wore on we pulled red hot nails out of the camp fire and did some back country blacksmithing, ie pounding them flat with a hammer while someone holds the nail with hemostats.

So my frist trip to musky country was a bit of a bust, the water was very low, we hiked a few miles up stream to a set of rapids and fish the pools but it was really a way to fill time. It was more of a camping trip in musky country but hey, that's fishing.

( Two flasks, a side arm and the gazateer)

Oceanographer Canyon Mid Week Day Off

A three step process to gaurantee an enjoyable vacation day from work:

Step 1: Catch Yellowfin Tuna

Step 2: Catch Swordfish

Step 3: Celebrate fishing conquests with a bean bag chair and bud light

Video to follow... Stay tuned...