Here’s the thing, you either really like to fish, or you don’t. For those of us who really like to fish, it doesn’t matter much what kind of fish it is as long as you get to see them. A client of mine once caught a sixteen-inch Koi on a Prince nymph (of course). The poor bastard blew out of some dude’s pond up valley and ended up in our sights. It was a flood year and you didn’t know what the hell you were going to run into. Steve Avery caught a goddamn Mackinaw that year on the Burry Lease. We were floating the Fork at 9,000 cfs and the fishing was primarily limited to people’s lawns—the secret weapon was four different colors of chenille gobbed on a hook. I don’t think anyone ever submitted that fly. The river blasted new channels left and right, and we were fishing holding water that didn’t exist, at least in my lifetime. Avery pole-vaulted out of a Grade B raft that Bill Fitzsimmons was renting out to the guides that year. I came close, but dumb luck often carries the day. Tim Heng was telling me that Fitz almost sunk them in the Keys, because he was so busy watching the fish. It is fun sneaking up on things.

Come fishing immediately!

Live from the world headquarters
Kea C. Hause