Toilets, Dogs, Drift Boats and the Juan

I spoke to my good buddy William Whiskey Lesley Vance a few weeks ago as he pushed across the midwest on I-70 with the new custom driftboat he built from scratch all winter long in tow.  He noted he was headed to towards Durango to stay with a local legend of a fishing guide for a weeks and to fish the mighty San Juan everyday until his own guiding season began.  As the days passed sitting at my desk, his offer for me to join him began to eat away at me.  So, I finally decided to seek solace, loaded up the truck, kissed the wife, gave the dog a sedative, called in sick, and started heading south.

All in all, we had a blast.  Fishing was pretty damn good, weather just about perfect, boat performed like a dream, and no one was arrested.  Here are a few picks from the weekend.

Les's badass new boat

I realized my pup gets extremely car sick...so we had to make a bunch of pit stops along the way...not bad scenery though

Arriving at the house, this is the shitter of a 48 year old fishing guide...yes that is an arrow sticking out out the top....yes ladies he is single

Nice leopard bow.  All fish over the 3 days were taken on size 22 flies or smaller, including dries.

Dog was straight beat after a morning of wading



Trout Where You'd Least Expect Them

I had visited the pond on two occasions after work since the ice went out a week ago; there were signs of life on the pond but only a couple fish had come to hand.  Working on the coast has its downsides when you live in the western mountains but for the last four or five years I have seemingly by coincidence, found myself working within striking distance of a pond that has become a new favorite right after ice out.  There is a legacy about this water in the fall but it has so much to do with timing that I haven't been able to strike it rich since I live two hours away.

I am nearly as excited to hike into this place as I am to drive into the great north woods, as it produces fish that very few places in the state can rival.  Morrell and I were talking on the phone and I explained my previous outings; he was skeptical I could tell but he told me he was going to investigate with his float tube last Thursday.  I held my breath that the intel provided would put a fish or two into his net.....he would understand all the hype as soon as he held one in his hand.

As luck would have it, Hammond Lumber flubbed an order for pine flooring on my job and I was out by noon.  I notified Morrell and each of us pointed our vehicles in the direction of the pond.  We rigged up, hiked in, and unlocked the canoe that I have graciously been given permission to use.  A few casts in and we each had enjoyed a follow to the boat and I could tell that Chris was becoming a believer.  "Drop me off on that Goose shit covered rock" he barked.  I obliged as I watched the flip flop wearing Brunswick native step into the mine field.

Morrell went tight, landed a beefy specimen but the camera was with me in the canoe 40 yards away.  He whooped it up and stated that he couldn't believe a fish of that magnitude could be caught outside the northern corridor of Maine.  The two of us went fish for fish over just a couple hours, landing six, hooking a few others and watching in amazement as a huge trout came an attacked one of the 17" Brookies we were working to the boat.  Chris found his salvation on a pond that few would expect to find such burly specimens. 

The season is still so young!