Change of Plans.

The end of fall semester was capped off by one hellish week of papers, finals, and portfolios that seemed to never end. Awaiting me at the finish line was a planned 10 day excursion across New York and Pennsylvania sleeping in the car and living off pp&j while fly fishing for some steelhead. This would have been the capstone to our steelhead adventures for the year and our third long road trip. Unfortunately, I fractured my patella playing a little sport called Ultimate and combined with some snow storms the trip has pretty much been canceled. Maybe, my parents will change their minds and let me take their truck out for some fun but with another storm on the way it seems highly unlikely. This has left my buddy Adam and I with our home waters to toy around with providing us with an opportune time to take and edit some footage for some upcoming films.

Missing Out On Some More Steel We Are.

I Was Looking Forward To This.

One of these films, Rocky Mountain High, began the editing process today as I waited out the storm. In August, my brother Matt and I took our first fly fishing excursion together out to Colorado. There we picked up one of my best friends, Alex Edelman, who was stationed at Fort Carson and went on a six day trip across Colorado. We put over 1,000 miles on our brandnew Suburu Outback rental car and did some 4x4 high clearance only off-roading with it over some mountain passes. The trip was an absolute blast and we were able to catch cutthroat, cutbows, and even a greenback trout. Normally, I would have the film of the trip up in a matter of weeks but Alex was soon shipped to Iraq and the footage has escaped my grasp. Despite this, I finally decided to take a look at it all and sit down and get to work. It is all finished and awaits the pig rainbows Alex filmed before I get to share it.

Colorado Pig Bow.

Frying Pan Cutbow.

A Rocky Mountain High Brown.

Speaking of homewater we get to toy around with, I fished Indian Creek this morning in the first few hours of the snowstorm while Adam fished the Hokendaqua. These two streams were our play and testing grounds in our young years as fly fisherman. This is where we learned and honed our craft and caught our first wild trout on the fly. Both creeks hold good numbers of wild brown trout, especially the closer one gets to their headwaters. In 45 minutes of fishing in 30 degree weather, with a driving snow, I landed three of these wild browns all on a size 18 tan caddis pupa. They were beautiful little fish 8-12 inches and in great condition.

Brown Number One.

Fish of the Day.

Brown Number One About To Depart.

Homewater: The Indian

Brown Number Two Flashes Her Good Side.

And Shows Off Her Spots.

Number Three: The Outcast.

Over the next week, there is going to be a lot of fishing taking place despite the weather and the holidays. Adam and I are heading out to our "Spot" tomorrow to catch some more beautiful trout on a stream you can jump across. Look for some pictures from the "Spot" and some of our other local streams in the coming days.

Riley Striking Her Best Pose.

She Loves the Snow.

And Chasing Snow Balls.

Change of Plans.

The end of fall semester was capped off by one hellish week of papers, finals, and portfolios that seemed to never end. Awaiting me at the finish line was a planned 10 day excursion across New York and Pennsylvania sleeping in the car and living off pp&j while fly fishing for some steelhead. This would have been the capstone to our steelhead adventures for the year and our third long road trip. Unfortunately, I fractured my patella playing a little sport called Ultimate and combined with some snow storms the trip has pretty much been canceled. Maybe, my parents will change their minds and let me take their truck out for some fun but with another storm on the way it seems highly unlikely. This has left my buddy Adam and I with our home waters to toy around with providing us with an opportune time to take and edit some footage for some upcoming films.

Missing Out On Some More Steel We Are.

I Was Looking Forward To This.

One of these films, Rocky Mountain High, began the editing process today as I waited out the storm. In August, my brother Matt and I took our first fly fishing excursion together out to Colorado. There we picked up one of my best friends, Alex Edelman, who was stationed at Fort Carson and went on a six day trip across Colorado. We put over 1,000 miles on our brandnew Suburu Outback rental car and did some 4x4 high clearance only off-roading with it over some mountain passes. The trip was an absolute blast and we were able to catch cutthroat, cutbows, and even a greenback trout. Normally, I would have the film of the trip up in a matter of weeks but Alex was soon shipped to Iraq and the footage has escaped my grasp. Despite this, I finally decided to take a look at it all and sit down and get to work. It is all finished and awaits the pig rainbows Alex filmed before I get to share it.

Colorado Pig Bow.

Frying Pan Cutbow.

A Rocky Mountain High Brown.

Speaking of homewater we get to toy around with, I fished Indian Creek this morning in the first few hours of the snowstorm while Adam fished the Hokendaqua. These two streams were our play and testing grounds in our young years as fly fisherman. This is where we learned and honed our craft and caught our first wild trout on the fly. Both creeks hold good numbers of wild brown trout, especially the closer one gets to their headwaters. In 45 minutes of fishing in 30 degree weather, with a driving snow, I landed three of these wild browns all on a size 18 tan caddis pupa. They were beautiful little fish 8-12 inches and in great condition.

Brown Number One.

Fish of the Day.

Brown Number One About To Depart.

Homewater: The Indian

Brown Number Two Flashes Her Good Side.

And Shows Off Her Spots.

Number Three: The Outcast.

Over the next week, there is going to be a lot of fishing taking place despite the weather and the holidays. Adam and I are heading out to our "Spot" tomorrow to catch some more beautiful trout on a stream you can jump across. Look for some pictures from the "Spot" and some of our other local streams in the coming days.

Riley Striking Her Best Pose.

She Loves the Snow.

And Chasing Snow Balls.

Big Poppa Pump.

The "disease" is gearing up in all its splendid glory. It senses what awaits after a long and filling Thanksgiving meal. The anticipation has been building for weeks, Great Lakes Steelhead Round 2. This time, we will be rolling to Erie looking for some sweet, sweet chrome. The anticipation has been killing me, and seeing the new Drake Video Award films did not help me concentrate on my schoolwork. Im kinda like RA Beattie in Stream of Consciousness, except instead of listening to a client, im sitting through a lecture on political theory. My mind is wondering about dead drifts under thingamobobbers, beef jerkey, and how drunk I was the night before. The situation is repeated right now, I have a 9 am tomorrow and a paper due but I'm tying flies and writing a blog. John Stuart Mill and Sparknotes can wait until uhhh say 8:15. Anyway, hopefully the conditions will be prime this weekend, and by prime I'm talking lake effect snow.

Praise the Steel.

Speaking of prime, Big Poppa Pump himself will be making his first appearance this fall on any fly fishing trip. His massive amount of experience (six times fly fishing?) will come in handy attempting to cast, hook, and land fish amongst other anglers. Bring your hard hats everyone, this could get ugly. All kidding aside, I am looking forward to showing Pops the ropes of steelheading. Anytime, he gets to come out and fish with my brother and I is a treat. He rarely catches anything, but when he does it makes for an exciting moment. The first time he ever went fly fishing with us, he hooked into a 20 inch rainbow and proclaimed, (to our astonishment) "WHOA, I GOT THE BIG ONE"!!! Needless to say, he did not land the fish, but anytime it is brought up leads to major laughs. Another example, the second time my father went fly fishing, was a week long trip to Colorado. In four days of fishing, my father caught one trout. He has got some mad skills with a fly rod. He has since made some progression and I am looking forward to having him land some steel this weekend.

That is One Sexy Dude.

WOAH, I GOT THE BIG ONE!

(actual battle, somehow captured)

His only Fish in Four Days.

Notice, the patented Big Poppa Pump Landing Technique.

I look at these experiences with my father as my way of repaying him for everything he has taught me in life. Taking my brother and sister fishing when we were young and painfully puting up with us by untying birdnests of 20lb test that we somehow conjured at the ends of our lines took some serious patience. Fast forward to this weekend, in all likelihood I will be the one untying birds nests at the end of his line. It is ironic how things have flip flopped over time. For my dad, watching me grow up and become who I am today is probably one of the highlights of his life. While sharing my passion with him, in all likelihood, will be one of the highlights of my life.

Big Poppa Pump.

The "disease" is gearing up in all its splendid glory. It senses what awaits after a long and filling Thanksgiving meal. The anticipation has been building for weeks, Great Lakes Steelhead Round 2. This time, we will be rolling to Erie looking for some sweet, sweet chrome. The anticipation has been killing me, and seeing the new Drake Video Award films did not help me concentrate on my schoolwork. Im kinda like RA Beattie in Stream of Consciousness, except instead of listening to a client, im sitting through a lecture on political theory. My mind is wondering about dead drifts under thingamobobbers, beef jerkey, and how drunk I was the night before. The situation is repeated right now, I have a 9 am tomorrow and a paper due but I'm tying flies and writing a blog. John Stuart Mill and Sparknotes can wait until uhhh say 8:15. Anyway, hopefully the conditions will be prime this weekend, and by prime I'm talking lake effect snow.

Praise the Steel.

Speaking of prime, Big Poppa Pump himself will be making his first appearance this fall on any fly fishing trip. His massive amount of experience (six times fly fishing?) will come in handy attempting to cast, hook, and land fish amongst other anglers. Bring your hard hats everyone, this could get ugly. All kidding aside, I am looking forward to showing Pops the ropes of steelheading. Anytime, he gets to come out and fish with my brother and I is a treat. He rarely catches anything, but when he does it makes for an exciting moment. The first time he ever went fly fishing with us, he hooked into a 20 inch rainbow and proclaimed, (to our astonishment) "WHOA, I GOT THE BIG ONE"!!! Needless to say, he did not land the fish, but anytime it is brought up leads to major laughs. Another example, the second time my father went fly fishing, was a week long trip to Colorado. In four days of fishing, my father caught one trout. He has got some mad skills with a fly rod. He has since made some progression and I am looking forward to having him land some steel this weekend.

That is One Sexy Dude.

WOAH, I GOT THE BIG ONE!

(actual battle, somehow captured)

His only Fish in Four Days.

Notice, the patented Big Poppa Pump Landing Technique.

I look at these experiences with my father as my way of repaying him for everything he has taught me in life. Taking my brother and sister fishing when we were young and painfully puting up with us by untying birdnests of 20lb test that we somehow conjured at the ends of our lines took some serious patience. Fast forward to this weekend, in all likelihood I will be the one untying birds nests at the end of his line. It is ironic how things have flip flopped over time. For my dad, watching me grow up and become who I am today is probably one of the highlights of his life. While sharing my passion with him, in all likelihood, will be one of the highlights of my life.