Palooza

8th Annual...

The trophy was conceived well after the fact. After multiple years of jokingly contesting the largest "chub," during our annual "Smalliepalooza" pre-spawn extravaganza, my buddy Dan Dow decided to create a trophy. The basis of the trophy was formed out of various gear found during a day on the water. In this case, a chatter-bait and the classic red/white bobber. A few blocks of spare wood and a black sharpie rounded out its overall vibe. It was also renamed to the "Bass of the Year," or simply of the weekend's palooza. The trophy added some extra incentive to our 8th annual gathering. What started as a spring trip with my brother has slowly morphed into a planned multi-day event, a non-stop group chat, and a guest list of almost 20 names. As usual, that guest list gets smaller and smaller as the actual date of fishing approaches. Middle aged men with families don't fare well with actually showing up. For those that do, it can be some of the best, most fun, and exhausting fishing of the year. This year we had three new people join the fray with my brother's long time friend Travis marking his first time fly fishing with several nice bass. Dan's brother in law Chris also came for the first time as did Ryan's friend Collin. Overall, I think we're still working on balancing sun up to sun down fishing with leisure, food, and drinks thrown into the mix. We are also looking on expanding to multiple waterways despite thoroughly enjoying what this creek has to offer. If you know, you already know...

 

Matt Erdosy takes the crown...

Live People Tonight

Steelhead Green

Over the past few years, I've made a concerted effort to consistently put myself in places and moments that I want to experience. In that time span, those places have overwhelmingly been on rivers near mountains, coasts, and canyons that hold anadromous fish, particularly wild steelhead. Rivers that harbor Oncorhynchus mykiss are some of the most beautiful and pristine places on earth and there simply aren't many of those places, or fish, left. While I'm still relatively young and limber, I'd like to continue exploring those places with friends and hopefully shake hands with a few special fish. 

Of course, my mentality has always been one of accomplishing the task on my own accord. On the difficulty spectrum, this means "swing, or go home". It has to be on a two handed rod, with a fly that I tied, in a run I picked out, all without the help of some paid influence in the form of a guide. There is a higher level of satisfaction that comes with accomplishing that goal and its way easier said than done. I've been fortunate to get wild summer run fish to hand on the North, Rogue, and Deschutes. On the other side of the coin, I've found the winter run to be an entirely different beast. I've had one wild handshake on the OP and a hatchery fish in Oregon. The lack of success hasn't deterred my efforts, it's only made them more eager. With that in mind, I returned to the coast for a third consecutive year with the hope of crossing a particular river off my list. This particular place is probably my favorite and its mostly kicked my ass. On this sojourn, the variability of winter reared its ugly head and provided a voluntary beatdown of epic proportions...

Phil "Little Knees" Kirkland

Luke Hatch and Austin Tighe

Pride and Prejudice

A tale of two very different muskies...

The hunt for musky on fly has become a glorified pursuit on social media and beyond. The term, "fish of 10,000 casts," seems overused as is the adoration bestowed upon certain musky fisheries and accomplishments. Fly fishing has always been, and will always be, relative to the location one is fishing, the amount of time someone has to fish, and how much money they have to increase their chances at a successful pursuit. Specific fisheries are simply easier to catch fish in compared to others due to population size, fishing pressure, and geographic location. For instance, a 20" brown trout on the White River in Arkansas doesn't mean a whole lot because they are bountiful and relatively easy to catch. Conversely, the same fish on a small, intimate, and highly pressured creek is a much different type of accomplishment. The same can be said for an angler that travels to the Bahamas to DIY bonefish and catches a double digit fish on foot by themselves. That is a big deal compared to hiring a guide that takes you to the place, spots the fish, tells you when/where to cast, set the hook, and lands that fish for you. This can extend to the swung fly too. A public water Atlantic Salmon is quite different than one from a privatized river with beats, fees, less pressure, and guides that know exactly where the fish are. Fly fishing media places a tremendous amount of pride in accomplishments that should come with an asterisk in the form of the whole story. Most anglers, especially the general public, are ignorant towards what goes into the imagery they see flooding their screens. When that media is saturated with an endless amount of content the lines become very blurry and there is no differentiation anymore. The stories are often unknown and under appreciated. They are replaced with a tap and a swipe never to be heard of, or thought of, again...

The fish of 10,000 figure eights...

Some people have to wait and put in much more effort than others have to...