One Bike to Rule them All
Shed Hunting
Maybe its the fact that I used to hike as part of my job, or that we have some excellent mountain biking trails around Cody that have been rideable all winter, but I rarely grab my hiking boots when going on a weekend adventure. I guess hiking just isn't my favorite form of travel. I almost always prefer two wheels. The exception is when there is a tangible goal, e.g. hunting or fishing. Although hunting season is long gone, spring offers another reason to be out there: horn hunting.
Taking a Chance
Late last month, while visiting one of my favorite bike culture blogs, I came across an opportunity. Blackburn, the venerable bike touring accessory manufacturer, hires six "Blackburn Rangers" to ride a bike from Canada to Mexico. Along the way, the Rangers test and report on new gear, and create social media buzz about the trip. A journey like this has always appealed to me, but I want to add a fishy twist...I propose riding the Pacific Coast bike route, from Vancouver, BC to the Mexican border, while hauling rod, reel, waders and boots in order to fly fish for steelhead along the way.
Bike/Fly Rod transport
Integral to many of my adventures, is a way to pack a fly rod around by bike. While there are a number of ways to do this, especially using a rear rack, my favorite employs a little creativity.Fly rods come in many lengths and number of pieces that affect they overall packed length. This day in age, 4 piece rods seem to be the norm and their reduced packed length make them a great choice to bike fishing. Simply strapping a rod tube to the rear rack is definitely an option, but I often reserve the rack for panniers filled with waders, camping gear, and food.
A quick edit
After six days of swinging flies for steelhead and coming up empty handed, I needed to remind myself what the tug of a fish felt like. I spent two afternoons on the lower Shoshone here in Cody. Winter fishing is one of my favorites. Few people are out and fishing is generally great. I'vebeen playing around a bit shooting video. I set up my camera on a small tripod for this shot and luckily captured the hookup of a nice brown.
The Highs and Lows of Steelheading
I am very lucky. I fish a lot. I even get to take a week off and search for steelhead in far away places, two steps and one swing at a time. My latest trip took me and M back to Idaho. Our destination was the Clearwater River around Orofino. While this is classic steelhead water, prime time to fly fish this river is not winter. Late fall is preferred since the warmer water temps mean the fish are more willing to move to a swung fly. But when you don't have steelhead in your home waters, you have to search for them whenever you can, and sometimes that means winter in Idaho.
Steelhead dreams
Its September. Every day there are salmon and steelhead climbing fish ladders around dams that clog the once free flowing Columbia and Snake Rivers. As the fish pass the dams, there are counters that record the number and species of fish that pass each day. Fisherman and women across the northwest eagerly watch these numbers which foretell the return of these miracle fish. I was one of these number watchers.Alas, the past year has seen me move farther inland, where steelhead and salmon don't swim. No longer am I in short driving distance of a prime steelhead river. But the lure of swimming chrome is not so easily lost. Not unlike the internal motivation inherent to each anadromous fish on their return journey, my steelhead compass has switched on. Its time to go back to Idaho.
Its been a busy summer for N and I both, and we've both agreed its time for a vacation. How about two weeks in Idaho? Perfect. It will be full of friends, biking, Boise-ing, and maybe even some bird hunting and trout fishing. But what really has me going, is the chance to go back to Secret Creek.
On my first trip to Secret Creek, I hooked 4 steelhead, and landed my first on a skated dry fly. It would be a fallacy to call the motion of which the fish hit the fly a "rise" or "take". That fish flipping destroyed my fly! literally leaping 4 feet in the air in the process. I was dumbfounded; screaming with excitement; unable to contain myself. It was a good trip.
On the second trip to Secret Creek, I woke up with what felt like a hangover. The single beer I had the night before was good, but not what you'd expect to cause a hangover. I ignored the discomfort and continued on with plans. N forgot her boots. Backpacking 3 miles through NorthWest blackberry brambles in sandals is not fun. We also treed a bear about at about 15 feet. By the time we got to the camp, I was exhausted. Not the type exhausted you'd expect. It was 3 miles of downhill hiking. A walk in the park. I struggled to find the motivation to string the rod up that night... I did manage it though. Just long enough to teach N how to spey cast. The rest of the trip saw me in one of two places: sprawled out in the tent napping/sweating, or running in my underwear to the shelter of a nearby sagebrush that offered the only cover to dig a cathole and take care of business. It was not a good trip.
N had better luck. She picked up the Snap-T spey cast in no time, explored the canyon, read a book, cooked camp food, traded beer our beer for Gatoraid, and, oh yeah, hooked, fought, landed, and released her first steelhead. I slept through it. I think she had a good trip.
This brings me to this year. Its redemption time! While the trip is still a month out, I've started to make preparations. My internal steelhead compass has started pointing west. Last night I had a dream I was fishing a coastal stream with my brother. A steelhead took my fly. Like a stone cold natural, I dropped the loop of slack in my hand, waited for the fish to weight the line, and set the hook towards the bank. Easy as that. There was no diarrhea or pre-digging catholes in my dream. Go figure.
This morning, I loaded up my 5weight switch rod and made a detour on the morning bike commute to work. I'm blessed to have a world class tailwater 4 minutes bike ride from the house. With only 40 minutes to spare, I tied on a classic steelhead fly, the Lady Caroline, and promptly caught a nice cutthroat. Nothing like casting a two handed rod with classic steelhead flies to get you prepared for a fishing trip. I'm ready. I can taste the redemption at Secret Creek. I will dream of it tonight...
Explore More
The idea for this trip sparked during a period of brief homelessness. I had just quit my job, and had a number of weeks before I was due in Wyoming. Naturally, I spent the time deer and elk hunting, fishing, and helping rack wine at Hells Canyon Winery.
One leisurely morning at the winery, while enjoying a cup of coffee, I opened a nearby magazine which happened to have an article about an off the beaten path kind of river. The author didn't give specifics, but it was clear that this river is remote, hard to access, and provides tantalizing rewards in the form of solitude and salmo trutta. It also happens to be in Wyoming. I filed this information away in an important part of my mind I call the steel trap. It's standard practice that most things that enter my mind are gone within 5 minutes. In fact, it'd be more accurate to call my mind a steel colander. But when a friend looks over his shoulder before telling of a secret fishing spot, the jaws to the steel trap spring shut, and they are committed to memory.
Fast foreword a few months to winter in Wyoming. Having only a part time job, I had plenty of time to research and plan summer trips. I gathered what I could about the river, and made plans to visit in the summer. Directions were vague, the guidebook said not to go by yourself, and to bring a map to navigate the maze of BLM roads.
Before leaving, I carefully laid a route on GaiaGps. 20 miles on gravel and two track roads. Bikes on the back in case we the road turned bad, or if we augered the truck into a mud hole. The gps track proved invaluable while navigating, and we arrived at our destination with little problem. Our river is contained within a BLM Wilderness Study area. A mountain stream that grows into a desert river flowing through the sagebrush flats into a limber pine lined canyon. Shallow granite walls flank either side of the river providing roosts for hawks and peregrine falcons. Evidence of moose and deer abounded along the riverside path.
I've been stubbornly pushing the grasshopper season this summer. I tied up a slough of hoppers this spring in anticipation, and I have been throwing them in vein for the past few weeks. No interest in the hopper, we must be a few weeks soon. Finally we came to a beautiful plunge pool. It was the type of pool that when I came to it, I said, "If I can't catch a fish here, I'm no fisherman...Not leaving until I catch one." I had seen a few stonefly shucks earlier, so I put on the tried and true Gardiner-Special Matt Minch Golden Stone. I hooked and landed my first rainbow of the day within 3 casts. I don't know why I'm so reluctant to fish nymphs. It probably comes from growing up in a family of die-hard dry fly fishermen. (One on a dry counts for 3 on a nymph!...right?). The truth is that fishing a nymph on this type of water (clear pocket water) is every bit of fun as fishing dries. The clear water and short line techniques allows you to see and feel every take. I was having a blast.
Nancy and I both pulled in a few more rainbows before I was reminded that we still had a 4ish hour drive back to Cody. Time to start hiking back to the truck. Its nearly impossible for me to hike back along ariver and not cast a few last times to the best looking water. I threw one perfectly placed cast over a cross current, and right behind two large boulders. The golden stone was immediately taken and the brown trout jumped out of the water pulling clicks off my hand-me-down Pflueger Medalist. Its humorous how much these moments make me giggle and whoop.
These kinds of trips are some of my favorite. Not because the fishing was epic, or that I caught the biggest fish of the season. In fact, I probably could have stayed home and caught more fish withing 30 minutes of my front door. Its the exploration, planning, and unknown that I love. This trip has been coming together for months. I wasn't even sure we could drive all the way in due to recent rainstorms. I saw more wildlife this weekend than I caught fish. Hooked as many ticks as trout. You never know what you will find on a new river. It could be blown out, or worse. Don't let that stop you. You don't know until you go.
Liquor Store
In the world of bike touring, bike packing, and commuting, there is a lot of talk about gear, cargo hauling options, and the latest best thing. I've made a breakthrough discovery that will revolutionize the way you carry things on your bike...or scooter, or whatever.
The bike shop closes early on Fridays. Today, I used my two extra hours to run an important errand: restocking the beer supply. I picked up a sixer of nice beer, and a 12 pack of PBR (don't judge, I started drinking PBR before it was cool). The six pack fit nicely in my rack mounted pannier. The 12 pack on the other hand, wouldn't quite squeeze in with the IPA. This is where the latest innovation in bike touring/packing comes in...
Let me introduce you to the bungee strap. It's made of numerous strands of elastic rubber bands twisted together, covered by classy looking ornamental yet functional sheath, and topped off with plastic coated wire hooks on both ends. BRILLANT. This simple piece of gear will revolutionize the way you pack for you next bikepacking adventure. Hand sewn frame bag you ask? Forget it, just bungee that dehydrated meal to your seat tube. $150 handlebar mounted dry-bag? Nope, bungee your sleeping bag there. See where I'm going with this? Do yourself a favor. Go purchase one of these life saving inventions, and go ride your bike!
I owe this discovery all to this excellent gentlemen pictured here:
It's been said that "Great minds think alike." In this instance, I couldn't agree more.