Guides and sons

John Howard is as good as it gets when it comes to guiding.  John is just plain fishy but what makes him invaluable is his innate sense of joy.  Fishing is not a quantitative experience it is quality experience.  Quality can be clear skies, empty streams, a feel for the both the wild and the wilderness or hitting an inside straight with an all in bet. Regardless, joy is always best shared.  Fishing with John is joy unbound.   He just got off the Smith and had no problem getting into fish.   His son, Jensen starts as a gearboater with us tomorrow.  Let the games begin.

A toast to hope

 

Two weary contenders Brandon Boedecker of PRO Outfitters and Mike Geary of Lewis and Clark Expeditions staring at the watery abyss of Montana.   Slightly reminiscent of Walter Huston and Tim Holt in Treasure of Sierra Madre where the only thing left was laughter.  Where there is laughter there is hope and he who has hope has everything.

Oh, sing in me Muse!

I am still awaiting the Muse. Apparently artistic inspiration is not a direct route. I plan on opening up my subconscious and having my chakras checked. I must remain open to the universe. Although, I suspect there is a God, he appears to be pissed 90% of the time.


We fished on a little known river that had clear water. We had a fish hit a dry fly. Hope is eternal in a fishing boat.

Fire the next time

June 20, 2011 - More water in the state of Montana than I have seen in 30 years. This spring is an Old Testament flood where God wiped out the earth in a good old fashion biblical smackdown. Not many can match the fire and fury of an Old Testament God when he gets going. I have misread the end of millennium signs.


The Smith River is on hold until the end of the month. My two options are to prepare to sell real estate or become a screenwriter. The two career choices for every longshot player and day dreamer. I will await the arrival of the Muse.

Ain't no sunshine ....

It has been raining and raining and raining. Creeks are rivers and rivers have plunged out of the banks making the whole world damp, wet and most important non- fishable. Not a good day to be a fishing guide.


Dairy Queen is open at eleven in the morning and I was going to take the edge off with a mini-blizzard at $1.99. Jack Daniels used to do the same but I washed out of few decades using Budweiser’s and Jack backs. The Mint Oreo Blizzard was safer.



The girl at the counter was a young teenager with two small spikes coming out of her lower lip. A weird Gothic look for Helena, Montana and more proof that I have been misreading the end of millennium signs in 2000. The signs are all over. But, I live in a non-judgment era and I wanted my Blizzard. She took my $20.00 continued talking to her friends behind the Dairy Queen bar and mechanically made my Blizzard. Bartenders are more empathetic.



The Smith River where I make a living is out of its banks and totally unfishable. The weather report continues with lousy forecasts it is has been a long winter and spring. I am in the business to take people fishing and my future doesn’t look to good. The Blizzard was excellent and it is raining frogs.

Perhaps to fish

This lurking lunker comes from the vast landscape of the American West.  He was brought to hand mid-morning on June 6, 2011.  This is also the date the action of the novel Ulysses by James Joyce takes place.  The occurence of both of these magical feats is coincidental.

Please note the gritty determination of the angler.  The lines around the seasoned eyes of our fisherman who has just witnessed the heroic struggle of his quarry.  For some a moment of  triumph for others a time of  humility.  The joy is in the contest of the contender.  All glory is fleeting and the winner takes nothing.