Seasons greetings!  Hope you all are doing great.  My life has been so crazy with the birth of my daughter two months ago I haven't been doing much fishing or blogging but have become proficient at changing diapers!  Living in this new place must be like being dropped off in the foreign land, the land of babies!  I've been trying to learn the language and learning how to listen.  I will have to fish through my friends for a little while as my priorities are shifting in my life.  It's a good change however.  This shift is something I didn't know that I really needed until after it started to happen... and it continues to happen.  Sometimes it's been scary but it's been good.  I've been reading and praying a lot over the past two months and it seems hard times abound.  This Christmas I hope that if you feel like God is far from you and doesn't care about you that you, "get it" this Christmas.  I'm praying we all "get it" this Christmas.  Get that... God loves us so very much, the very reason for Christmas.  Here's something I read today from James McDonald.  If you have a minute read it with me today.  I hope it blesses you.

Merry Christmas and I hope to see you below the green boxes with tight lines.

-Lincoln  

Shot of the Week from August 7th

Howdy friends,

This shot is of a suspension bridge over the Kootenai River near Troy, MT.  My lovely wife took me on a secret destination anniversary trip to Clark Fork, ID to stay at the Huckleberry Tent and Breakfast.  One of the hikes we did took us over this bridge.  I was a little freaked out and kept waiting for the creepy temple of doom heart-ripper-outer-guy to come chase me across the bridge but he never showed.  The height was enough to get my blood pumping and I can't remember the last time I was that nervous.  I won't lie though, it was fun.  We also made it to a little state park in MT called Ross Creek Cedars.  It was great!  Huge cedar trees; some 10ft in diameter at the base.

We were blessed by the dramatic scenery of northwestern Montana and northern Idaho but we had another cool thing happen on our second morning during breakfast.  At the Tent and Breakfast you're privileged to sit down to the table and share breakfast with the other guests and also the hosts.  Well after 5 minutes or so of conversation we learned we were eating breakfast with the bass player from the christian rock band We as Human.  How cool is that!  He and his wife were on their honeymoon and had just been married on Saturday.  It was fun to talk to them for a little bit and it's amazing how you meet people in the middle of nowhere.
     Even though I was in prime trout country for my anniversary I wasn't able to wet a line.  Even so it was a great trip and I'm taking home some good memories.  Thanks honey for my surprise trip!  I love you very much.

PS  Tomorrow floating the Yellowstone is on my schedule.  More on this soon.  Until then, I hope to see you below the green boxes.

-Link

A Promise

Here's Siri with a nice rainbow we caught just a stone's throw away from the sprawling metropolis of G-Town, Montana.  As the sun sank behind the mountains, we started throwing my favorite Yellowstone streamer pattern into the off-colored water; maybe 6-8 inches of visibility.  With the water being high now, this big eddy seemed to be a sanctuary for this hungry gang of streamer-eating rainbows.  The action was fast and furious, and we caught about 20 or so before it started getting dark.  It was a good night for sure.  Good luck to you this week if you get out on the water, and I hope to see you below the green boxes.

-Link

 

Shot of the Week

Howdy Friends,

I've decided to start a weekly posting called 'Shot of the Week'.  So here goes...

     Last Monday Lee and I were able to make it out on a river, that shall not be named at this point, and do some fishing.  There was a tremendous black stone fly hatch going on and we caught several like the one he's holding.  It was a great 1st outing on one of my favorite Yellowstone rivers.  This cut was almost 21 inches long.  This fish took a dry but I also caught several on a streamer.  

     On another note the Yellowstone is clearing significantly everyday and we should start seeing some good fishing, for the first time this season, in the coming week.  Better late than never, right?  

Hope to see you all below the green boxes,

Link

The Man

     In all my years of fishing there's only been one man that I've had to take hooks out of that were buried past the barb.  It just so happens that I've done this for him twice!  Call it what you will for me, be it first-born duty or eldest son responsibility; I was the man for "the man" on two separate occasions.  If you fish as much as the men in my family do, it's inevitable that one day you to will look square into the face of this gut wrenching situation.  I guess, if it was going to happen to me, the head would be my desired location for impact.  The soul reason being that I wouldn't be able to see it.  I maintain composure around blood as long as it belongs to a fish, or deer, or some other kind of table-fair, but when it's mine or someone's who's dear to me, I start to get a little queezy.  Well, twice in my time my father has been in the right place at the wrong time to catch a crankbait in the head.  I wouldn't call this bad luck.  I'd rather say it's just a testament to the amount of time it takes on the water to become a great fisherman.  The first time it happened, though, I was directly involved.

     We were in Canada on a lost lake somewhere in Ontario and I was fishing a suspending jerkbait catching some northern pike.  I had a nice one on around 10 pounds and had the fish up to the side of the boat.  If you've ever caught pike before, you know how they like to twist and thrash about when you are playing them; well, this one was no different.  Just about as the fight was going to end the pike gave one last shake and threw the bait loose.  My rod was still loaded from his weight at the time, and that jerkbait shot out of the water like it had been fired from a gun!  In a split second I saw both my dad and brother take cover and then heard my brother go, "Oh Sh@#%!"  Looking to the front of the boat, I saw that the bait had hit my dad right in the ear, and I couldn't see the barb!  A picture is worth a thousand words.  

  

When you're in the middle of nowhere, sometimes the hospital isn't an option; and even if it were, there are sometimes ways that are more, shall we say, cost-effective.  The hook was almost all the way through his ear, so in this case we opted to go ahead and finish the job.  First we numbed his ear for a few minutes with a piece of ice from the cooler and removed all the other hooks from the bait (I still use this bait BTW).  Then, we just simply ran the hook the rest of the way through his ear.  At this point we were able to pinch the barb down, and the hook came right out.  Within a few hours he was as good as new.  The second puncture wound however wasn't as easily dealt with as this first one.

     Just about a week ago now, on our most recent Canadian adventure, we had another hook up.  No it wasn't the smallmouth bass we caught but rather dad catching himself.  Dad was in the process of lifting a smallmouth up into the front of the boat with his rod.  Normally when you use this landing technique you swing the fish into the boat to your side; but when you have 3 guys fishing out of one boat, there's not much room.  He was lifting the fish directly up to his feet.  As he was lifting the fish up out of the water, it started shaking and threw the crankbait loose.  The rod being loaded once again gave the bait enough force to be hurled straight up in the air.  The bait, then, still being attached to the line and rod, swung right around in a perfect semicircle hitting dad right in the back of the head.  At first we thought it was just stuck in his hat, but when he tried to take it off, it wouldn't move.  (enter sick feeling in my stomach)  One of the hooks in the crankbait was buried past the barb.  As much as head wounds can bleed, I didn't think this one was so bad, but that still didn't settle me down.  There comes a time in life though when you just have to do what you have to do.  After my brother and I tried to think of how to do the "line trick", tried it, and failed; dad said, "just get it out of there!"  So I grabbed the pliers and took a deep breath.  I held onto my dad's head and jerked the hook out.  Oh, it makes me cringe thinking about it.  We gave him a plastic worm bag full of ice from the cooler and doctored him up a bit with the first aid kit, and he was good as new.  Well, maybe just a little sore on the back of his head.

     My dad is the greatest fisherman who ever lived.  He loves it, but I know he loves his family more.  Thanks, Dad, for all the great memories!  Below are some memories from Canada's past.  Enjoy.  The second-to-last picture is of the fish he caught on the crankbait we pulled out of the back of his head last week.  The last picture was one I snapped right as a huge northern had followed his bait back to the boat.  Love you dad.  Happy Father's Day! 

Caddis are here

Howdy friends,

Here's the latest report on the Yellowstone.  As I thought the water cleared up enough to be able to fish some streamers and even dries for a little while earlier today and Saturday.  I'm sure Friday would have been good too but of course there's that work thing we must do.  We didn't get near the amount of rain that they forecasted and the overcast skies made for some cooler days for us.  Fishing was fair (caught 3, one rainbow was about 16 inches) and caddis are out and about now.  I think if the sun comes out tomorrow we could see a pretty large hatch.  Maybe I can get off work early, hmmm....  I did do something a little different this weekend in preparation for the boundary waters trip in a few weeks and made a special trip to Bozo to do a little pond fishing.  I thought it would be a good opportunity to work on my casting arm strength using my baitcasting reel set up.  I'd heard rummor that the "mall" pond had bass in it so I thought why not?  Well this rumor was true!  I found myself giddie after my first cast and I had two follow it back.  They weren't anything to write home about but it sure felt good to catch a bass again.  When all was said and done I ended up catching 6; all of them about 8-10 inches long.  These were my 1st large mouth in Montana so I was pretty excited.  Well it's late here and tomorrow's another workin' day.  Hope to see you below the green boxes, maybe even tomorrow afternoon.  Until then.

-Link

Bozo Mall Bass baby!

No News is Good?

Howdy Friends,
Runoff has started here on the mighty Yellowstone and the mother's day caddis hatch is a little belated.  I was hoping this year to hit the hatch of hatches with my father-in-law but the river had other plans; perhaps mother took a much needed vacation?  With winter snows being heavy around Cooke City and throughout the park I think we will see a significant runoff this spring as compared to the last several years.  The water could get clear enough if we hit some low temps soon but look out Livingston if we see some 80 degree days too quickly.  Here's the cfs tracking from the Corwin Springs station north of town.  (USGS)

Later this week we have one day with a high of 40 forecasted so perhaps the day after we could see some clearer water.  I will keep my eyes peeled with hopes to get out soon but it could be late July before we get on the Yellowstone again.  I guess it's time to tie some flies.  Hope to see you below the green boxes.

From Andrew...

Howdy friends,

You should read this really great Easter poem from Andrew Peterson.  Enjoy.

http://www.andrew-peterson.com/blog/a-night-poem-for-easter

Hope to see you below the frozen springtime green boxes.

-LW

New Family Member

Here's the newest member of my junk art family.  Not sure on his name yet?

April Fools

Howdy Friends,

I got to spend all day Friday on the river with my new friend Shatoshi Yamamoto from Japan.  I found him through his blog, http://leftyangler.blogspot.com/2011/04/yellowstone-grand-slam.html, where you can read a much more detailed account of the afternoon.  He's a talented fly tier and fisherman and it was fun to spend the day with him.
   One thing you wont read on his blog though is what happened to me early in the day.  This event was a first for me.  In all of my life of fishing I never have once hooked myself, in the face!  I was making a cast and just got out of time and whipped that #18 gnat right into my cheek.  Luckily it was a #18 and it came out without too much work, but it did leave a mark.  Ouch!
     Anyway it was a nice warm day to be out on the river and I look forward to the rest of the warm days soon to follow.  Hope to see you below the green boxes.

Let's go to the Creek

CHAPTER ONE

The Creek

          Just down the hill and around the corner from the house flowed an overlooked stream dubbed by Shades and me as “the creek”.  By all standards the creek was just a small stream in the middle of the middle of America.  Every few years or so though it’s hidden power would be unleashed, an extraordinary event for a boy of twelve to behold. 

In the spring, after several days of heavy rain, the creek would swell and jump it’s banks. It went where it willed and would make good on threats to the nearby houses of the neighborhood and also indulge itself in Mr. Jacobson’s Christmas tree lot.  The floating debris and turbulent waters seemed unreal.  Most of the time though it minded it’s own business and kept much to itself, hiding there amongst the trees.  The fall of the year was when the creek was in it’s prime.  Piles of leaves, fort building, and some of the best smells around made the creek our choice destination of the season.  Little did the passers by on the state highway realize the adventures that awaited them on the other side of the guard rail.

          The creek meandered across the eastern side of town making its way through sub divisions and trailer courts.  When it got within a mile of my house it found it’s way past the town’s water district, through a couple of acres of timber (really an old overgrown cemetery), past a corn field, and then skirting Mr. Jacobson’s Christmas tree lot.  It was a young boy’s heaven full of mystery, danger, and glory.  The heart of the creek was there, not to far from the water district, and it’s entry was not for the faint of heart. 

          If one wanted to get to the other side of the creek one must first cross it.  There were really only two ways to accomplish this.  A third though, and I must say spirited venture, was once attempted by Shades and myself.  In hindsight however hickory logs don’t make for the choicest materials in the world of raft construction, so it’s better that we stick to more practical crossing methods. 

          In creek crossing, the first and most basic way usually involves getting wet, depending of course, on your ability to walk on water.  It was common knowledge in our boyhood circles that if one would run fast enough across a creek that you could reach the other side without so much as getting a drop of water on your pants.  Shades and I tried this way many times and at different crossings, but were always unsuccessful.  In review of this truth we felt that it’s origin must have referred to a specific creek in the next county over.  When headed home, however; this method of creek crossing didn’t seem so inconvenient and at certain times of the year was even considered desirable.  On the way there though, it made for a less enjoyable day of exploring and fort building.  So it’s the second way to cross the creek which became our preferred method.  It’s a much faster and drier method but also required steady nerve and a superior level of concentration.  

The “pipe” as it was called was an old water district line that spanned the breadth of the creek, almost 50 ft, to the other side.  This iron monster was long but only big enough around that if it were possible; a young boy of our size could have possibly squeezed himself through it.  Rusty and worn, almost iridescent at times, the pipe was put together in 10 ft sections making for an amazing obstacle when suspended out above the creek.  When crossing, the idea was not to look down, especially after you started.  Turning around at any point was considered impossible so it was best to continue on ahead.  When staring “the pipe” in the face it was either victory or certain death; there was no in-between.

Shades, it seemed, had no fear of death or height for that matter.  I on the other hand was not as inclined.  I’d watch him time after time look forward, jaw set, and go without hesitation.  Straight in a straight line, steady and sure.  When he’d reach the other side he’d turn, look back, smile, and wait.  I’d think to myself, “Ok Britches.  It’s your turn now.”, as the little beads of perspiration started to drip under my hairless arms, like I was getting ready to leap from the nest for the first time.  The only thing was though; it was not my first time.  I’d in fact done this many times before.  Oh yea of little faith!

Stepping out onto the pipe was scary enough in itself.  Like being on the edge of the Grand Canyon, all senses heightened, I can feel and hear the grit under my boot scraping against the metal.  (This oddly enough made a similar sound to that of rubbing my hand against Dad’s 3 day old beard stubble)  Looking over the edge of this would be bridge, the reflections on the water seemed distant and the drop was daunting.  Taking one last look over my shoulder, as if to say goodbye, was my farewell to the world. I’d breathe deep, raise my arms, and start to slowly put one foot in front of the other.  It was at this point, more tense than a bungee chord at full gate, I’d pray that no bird would fly too close or God forbid a gust of wind would stir.  The first few steps were the worst; all of life hanging on the brink of eternity, but after I made it a few feet this feeling began to lift.  It was right at this moment in the crossing though, that the end of the first section of pipe reared it’s ugly head. 

At the points where the pipe sections butted up to one another there was about a three inch rise you’d have to hurdle.  Sure a three inch hurdle doesn’t sound that impressive but remember that eternity is all around you; whispering sweet nothings in your ear.  Momentum was the key now; keeping a nice slow steady pace.  Precise foot placement is critical; not too far to left, not too far to the right, keeping yourself directly on the crest and clearing the hurdles as they would come.

For reasons of adventure and exploration I’d like to say something fantastic at this point like, “Then all of a sudden… and something terrible!” but not today.  In all my times of crossing the pipe I never had the classic Indiana Jones cliff hanger experience with toothy beasts waiting below.  Never did I experience the slip and fall one arm snag and hang; nor the equally impressive, leap and grab-a-vine and swing.  It was safety first I suppose.  We where there though, in the middle of it all; right on the cusp of adventure.

After making it over the rest of the hurdles we had arrived at freedom’s front door.  At the precise moment of putting that first foot on solid ground it felt like all your worries and cares lifted.  Smells became richer, sounds clearer. Like stepping through a wardrobe, we had been successfully transported from the real world to the creek.  With the day to ourselves to soak up some woods and be boys; no other place would suffice. The creek is where we longed to be.      

Chronicles Intro

Howdy Friends,

Here's the intro.  

It doesn’t seem that long ago, looking back now, but in the mirror I hear a different story, freshly shaved with reality.  I’d like to say that Shades and Britches still ride on the cusp of adventure and haven’t yet settled down, settling for a mortgage and an American dream.  But things go how they go, and life is a great gift.  This is the story of their life, growing up wide-eyed in wonder in mid-America and in the middle of it all.  I miss you guys.

-LW

Shades and Britches

Howdy friends,

I've started to write what I believe to be an autobiographical narrative.  Maybe some of my English major friends can help me out?  The working title is called, "The Chronicles of Shades Mcgilus and Britches Mcgee".  More to come on this soon.

See you below the green boxes.

Look Ma, I'm Famous!

I have some exciting news!  Got my first credit on a product we sell in the Park.  It will be available this coming summer in all the stores.  The vendor used a flower picture I took on a fishing outing near Pebble creek a few summers ago with Danny, Doc, and Lee "the brown slayer" Anglin.

February is holding

Greetings friends,

It's been awhile.  Winter in Montana seems to go by slow.  I was able to make it out on the river for the 1st time in 2011 last Wed on lunch.  Had some good action, seeing BWO's and even some brown drakes.  Was able to land two fish, a small cut, and a decent rainbow on a #18 gnat.  Warmer weather should be coming next month and hope to get out more.

On another note I've picked up two CD's over the last few weeks and highly recommend them both.  The Wallin' Jennys new CD, Bright Morning Stars, http://www.thewailinjennys.com/ .  We got to see them in concert on the 4th at the Ellen and it was one of the best shows I've ever seen.  Also picked up the new CD from Andrew Peterson, Counting Stars, http://www.andrew-peterson.com/ .  It's fantastic all around, and a moving piece of art.  Thanks Andrew I appreciate it.  Thanks to Kurt to for introducing me.

Not much going on otherwise.  Just trying not to kill anymore deer in the valley.... with my car.  Right now the saturn is winning, 2 to 1.  She's going in for a face lift though shortly.

Stay warm where you wander and hope to see you below the green boxes.

-Link