There are trips you plan for the fishing, and trips you plan for the people. This one was both.
Father's Day weekend, my son Max and I pointed it toward Montana for three days on the water with Jake — Missoula Fly Guy — a guide I've fished with enough times to call a friend. Max had never fished with Jake before, but he'd heard the stories: the man's as funny as he is good on the oars. It took about five minutes for the two of them to hit it off.
Max and me at the put-in — Father's Day weekend on the Clark Fork.
We started Sunday with a float on the Clark Fork. I'll keep the exact stretch to myself — it's one of Jake's quiet ones, not many boats find it, and that's exactly how he likes it. We'll leave that one off the map.
Jake kept us tight from put-in to take-out.
I won't pretend I eased into it. First five minutes of the float, I came tight to an 18-inch rainbow on my El Rey G6 6-weight, and from there I spent a good part of the day bent over from the back of the boat. Max, up front with the El Rey G4 5-weight, was knocking the rust off — he hadn't fly fished in about a year, and he's still early in it, maybe a half-dozen trips under his belt. But the kid learns fast, and Jake's the kind of guide who can fix a cast in two sentences. “Good pitch, Max — it ain't a hog, but it's a good chunker.” Before long he was into them right alongside me.
The El Rey G6 6-weight, earning its keep.
And we got into them. Somewhere around 35 fish on the day — not that it's ever about the number, but they came steady from put-in to take-out. Eight doubles, both of us hooked up at once, scrambling and laughing while Jake talked us through the nets. Nice cutthroats. Nice rainbows. “That's a big fish, bro.” The good kind of chaos.
Eight doubles on the day — both of us hooked up at once.
This was really just day one — stretching the rods, shaking out the kinks before the rest of the trip. I had three days on the schedule with Jake; Max had two, and then we'd give his seat to Drew, our photographer, for the last day to chase some video. But Sunday was ours: good weather, a good friend on the sticks, and a whole day on the river with my son right around Father's Day.
Max, knocking the rust off up front.
You don't forget days like that.
A wild one, slipped back into the current.
Next up — Day Two on the Blackfoot.
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