New adventure-Crane Creek Video Blog

"I am not an adventurer by choice, but by fate"

                                            -Vincent VanGogh

https://vimeo.com/channels/cranecreekblog 

Picture, if you will, a spring creek nestled in a hardwood bottom. In that creek, swims what is ( arguably) said to be a genetically pure McCloud rainbow trout (salmo Shasta). Skittish, strong and self-sustaining.

Now, picture it in the Missouri Ozarks...

My goal with this video blog is to educate, entertain, and leave a record of my adventures on the Creek for my kids and anyone else interested in this jewel. I'll try to post something each week, and at the end of the season, do a "changing seasons" type montage.

I've struggled with posting about this creek. It's fragile, and won't take a lot if abuse. You wont see any posts of me fishing it in the summer ( between late May and September). The reasons for that will become self-evident; it's a Spring fed creek, the water warms in the summer, the fish become stressed, so no need to add to that stress. Crane, in the summer, is a "losing stream", meaning parts of it disappear underground. This causes the fish to stack up in pools, so again, no need to stress them any further. I will, however, be checking on Crane weekly, and will share that video in my blog.

There has been some national attention focused on this creek ( a well known "pro" fished it for a national outdoor show, and a few articles have appeared in the trade rags), so I balanced my need to share it, with the publicity it has already received, and came to this conclusion:
I rarely see other people fishing it, and I am there twice a week, so evidently the "national" exposure it received had minimal impact. My blog is anything but "national" so the impact should be in proportion to my reach...

I hope you enjoy this journey. My editing skills keep improving with each try, so at some point they will be at least mediocre...

Tight Lines..

My next evolutionary stage...

"What most persons consider as virtue, after the age of 40 is simply a loss of energy."

-Voltaire

There I was; standing in The Orvis Store in Madison, Wisconsin ( go here, talk to Bill, he's a peach and a great source of info for Wisconsin Flyfishing) discussing the "good old days" and it hit me: If I don't qualify for Old Fart status yet, I'm damn close.

Old Fart (adjective)-The process of becoming or attaining "crusty" status, all the while being unaware of said status and furthermore denying said status all-the-while complaining about how " things were better in the old days".

(noun)-a person who has surpassed "crusty" status. 

Gierach believes becoming an Old Fart "to be the secret, lifelong ambition of every serious fisherman". ( as quoted in The View from Rat Lake)
I'm not sure I agree, but while I was explaining the finer points of Sawyers Pheasant Tail,  I overheard the following conversation (and I may be paraphrasing):

Young Flyshop dude (YFD, for short): "Sup Bruh, how can I help you?"
Younger Flyshop Patron (YFP): "nuttin, Bruh, tying some streamers, need some flashy goodness."
YFD:"Sweeeeet! Articulated chewy goodness or standard nomnoms?"
YFP: " Oh man, Articulated chewiness for sure, I found some heavy eaters on the creek, gotta tag 'em before they disperse. Buttery goodness in quantity!"
YFD: "Right on! I've got some serious sparkle on the wall, heavy on the flash. You need Jimmy Knutsons Super Sparkle Goodness, what color?"
YFP: "Coolness, somethin' way bright, these fish were deep in Browntown."

Translation:
Can I help you?
I'm tying streamers for some schooled browns, they're deep so I need something they can see. I'd like to tie them articulated to increase the profile.
How about this Silver Krystal Flash, it's bright.
Perfect.

When did I start needing a translator to understand a conversation in a flyshop? When did I lose touch with my chosen passions vernacular? When did I get all this hair in my ears? When, wait?...

Crusty. It's the next stage in my evolution. Old Fart, here I come!

Browntown

Articulated goodness.

The (long) road to Idaho ( or-"This route requires tolls")-Day 2 ( and an ode to day one)

"Creeps and idiots cannot conceal themselves for long on a fishing trip." ~ John Gierach.

It's amazing the places your mind wanders when you've got 4 hours of open road and very little external stimulation. It helps when the only radio you can find is an oldies station ( in this case, the "oldies" were from my youth:-/ )

Did Goldie Hawns daughter marry Jesus, or John Lennon?

Rob Halford is the Chuck Norris of Heavy Metal. Rob Halford isn't Heavy Metal, Heavy metal is Rob Halford.

Haters ARE gonna hate, hate, hate. But I'll just shake it off.

0700 CST-Wakeeny, KS 13 hours and 850 miles to go. The gear is all stowed and safe. Note to self; a $49 motel is just that. Side note-Check for bed bugs.

1100 CST-(Just passed the exit for) Lyons, CO John Gierach lives ( or used to live) outside of Lyons. As my favorite author, our first in-person meeting should not resemble anything close to a stalker incident. Keep driving, Ryan. Keep driving.

1210 CST Fort Collins Colorado-Fighting the urge, again, to stalk down a favorite of mine and Ralena's-Joe Kenda, Homicide Hunter. Maybe he'd be impressed with my sleuthing skills and put me on the show. Or jail.  
Communication between the guys and I is at a fever pitch. I mentioned that a particular part of my anatomy is swollen from sitting in the Armada. Jason kindly volunteers Scott to apply ice to the affected area. Scott politely refuses. Brothers..

1340 CST-Somewhere near Wellington CO-The Google takes me off the beaten path to intersect with Hwy 287 and eventually Laramie Wyoming. Glad it did. Got to see Red Mountain Open Space. I'm a sucker for a pretty face, and this place is gorgeous. 
Side note- I've passed a couple of ponds, situated in arid, high desert, and can't help but wonder if one of those is the one Gierach talks about in Trout Bum. Stalking again, Walker, keep driving.

1530 CST-Rock Springs, WY-It's real now. I can see the Tetons in the distance, and the elevation is consistently around 6000 feet. 6 hours to Idaho Falls ( well, it's 4 hours for someone who won't stop every 30 minutes to gawk at a tree, or mentally fish every trout stream he passes).
Driving through Hoback canyon, I'm running along the Hoback River, and I remember why I am so drawn to Fly Fishing, and the west. In my mind, I'm traveling with the Astorians 200 years ago, seeing this beautiful place for the first time. It's no wonder that people stopped, looked at their traveling mates, and said, yep, this is it. We're home. 
Just as many probably broke a wagon wheel, had already used the spare, and said, "Well, we'll wait here for help". 200 years later, their great, great, great Grandson opens a Fly Shop 15 miles from where they were stranded. 

The rest of day 2 was spent traveling through the Bridger-Teton and Targahee National Forests. When I saw the Snake River, I knew I was close. In a short while, Scott, Jason, Aaron and Josh will land, fish will be caught, whiskey will be poured and stories told. But that's Day 3. 

Stay tuned.

The (long) road to Idaho ( or-"This route requires tolls")-Day 1

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.   -Ralph Waldo Emerson

0638 CST D-Day. It's finally here. D-Day in this case means "Departure-Day". Weeks of planning, scouting, packing, tying, shopping coming to a head with a 20 hour jaunt to Idaho squarely in my sights. Scott, Jason, Josh and Aaron will board an aluminum tube with rockets strapped to it on Saturday, and I have to be at Idaho Falls Regional Airport by noon or else.
 Anxiety is the word of the day. I'm driving our Armada, stuffed to the gills with my gear, and theirs. Shocks, struts, rotors, brakes, belts, oil and tires have all been changed. 
1300 miles
16 miles per gallon
90 gallons of fuel
2 (over night) stops
And that's just the trip out. Rinse and repeat in 10 days. 

1338 CST-Damn. Can this day go any slower? Mowed. Got some last minute work done. Now looking at the pile of gear that has to fit in the Armada. There must be $10,000 worth of rods, reels, lines, flies, waders, packs, boots and various other necessities getting ready to be crammed into a very large SUV, that all of a sudden looks much smaller. 
Gas-Junction City Ks-303 miles
Sleep- Wakeeny Ks
More gas -Burlington Co (646mi), Laramie,Wy ( 933mi), Boulder, Wy (1233mi) and on into Idaho Falls for a night in the Super 8. Then the fun begins...
1454 CST- Damn. Am I ready!!?? Armada is as loaded as it can be. Got to pack the clothes. Scott, Jason, Josh and Aaron are texting, they got the bug too. Seems my nickname for the trip is either Duran or Swedish Meatball..smh...

1600 CST-OFF!! next transmission; somewhere in Idaho!!

The (long) road to Idaho ( or-"This route requires tolls")

"Angling is extremely time consuming. That's sort of the whole point." - Thomas McGuane

T-minus 1.5, 0716 CST- I can't get that stupid Tom Petty song out of my head. The waiting truly IS the hardest part.

T-minus 1.5, 0719 CST-Feels like it's been an hour. Ugh....Yes, I am anxious about a 20 hour drive. But I still can't wait. I've gone over my packing list 26 billion times. 

Rods. Check
Reels. Check
Pack. Check

Seems like I'm forgetting something..... Day 1 starts tomorrow.....

Here I (we) come Idaho. 

It's like an old friend...

Do not protect yourself by a fence, but rather by your friends.
                                                                      -Czech proverb

The decision is never where to start, that's easy. It's when. Thirteen-thousand plus cfs. Tailwater level 709 feet above mean sea level. Just wait it out. Temps will rise, our need for electricity will decrease as the day wains on, and then-"Table Rock power plant reports the number of units generating to be---ZERO." Might be nine am, may be one pm. Then the real waiting comes in. 

703.3'

Time. Time to check knots, again. Time for another glance through the midge box, maybe the black zebra instead? Nope. Second guesses are for suckers. Time to watch the water drain out like the last of the pancake syrup, slowly, deliberately. Time. Look at the rocks. 704? Still falling, but why does it take so long?!

Tailwater elevation 703.3'-Wade in. The water is at that awkward, exclusive-to-tail-waters level where its falling but not moving. I'm sure there is a scientific term for this, but I call it frustrating. 

Tailwater elevation 702.1'- More current now. Fish are settling into their haunts. Low water haunts. The water is moving more, creating greasy currents around the rocks. Low enough now to see midges on the surface. I notice the shucks first. Not sure why, but I always do. 

The Miracle Midge-Always in my box

Tailwater elevation 701.7- Current now, finally. Over the light gravel, the water looks like air. Wade slowly, fish everywhere. Rising fish. Normally, that's a good thing. But the fish here feed on midges the size of pepper flakes, and my eyes aren't what they used to be. Still, with the right conditions and a little luck, you can get a fish or two on emergers, fished in the film. 

Tailwater elevation 700.8- Perfect. Good flow, good light, right fly. Time to get to work. Short, purposeful casts. Up and across. Reach mend. Drift. Throw a big mend at the end of the drift, and get another 15 feet. Time. The number of fish caught is proportional to the time your fly spends in the water. If they are feeding, fly selection is a personal choice. If they are fussy, it may get more specific than that. 

Like any old friend, I accept this water for what it is. A great place to fish. Nothing fancy, no pretensions. Time. It's taught me that there's nothing like coming home to an old friend...

The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it.
-R.W. Emerson

Crane Creek-back to the beginnings.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost

Not that the fishing isn't great, but the walk in is always the best part. 20 minutes of birds, squirrels, and anticipation. Cross the creek twice, have a cup of coffee while the fish settle down, collect your composure, then very quietly sneak to the edge...

Mental check list engaged; 
no sudden movements-check
back cast area clear(ish)-check
(did I close the garage door?)
focus on the target-check
line clear-check
enough out to load with out a false cast-check
(how big is that trout?)
focus on the target-check

It happens fast, but in a high-speed-camera-motion-stop kind of fast-let the line drift down stream, load the rod, push forward, change directions mid-cast, stop the rod tip short, pile on the slack, mend, then wait...rinse, and repeat. Unless..

That's the desired result. This is a small creek. So, you adjust your expectations accordingly. Your pace should be slow, you know it. But there's that pool by the bluff..It'll be there. Three, four, five more casts, one more diamond from the mine, move to the next pool. Slowly. Your mind can out fish your body here. But that's a mistake. Forgot to check your back-cast. 

Focus on the target-check...

Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry past it.
-Kierkegaard