When Opportunity Knocks

A theme of this blog has been one of making fishing trips happen.  Squeezing opportunities from situations as they present themselves - whether you're traveling or just happen to be carving out a spare moment for yourself on your local water.  This story is the essence of what I stress - seize the moments, fishing and otherwise.

A friend of mine was in town for National Guard duty this past weekend. He had an open window of time on Friday afternoon, so we laid plans to hit the river after work.  For me to clock an eight hour day I was sitting in my office chair already pecking away at the keyboard at 6am.  The weather was unseasonably warm, and had been all week.  The forecast remained stellar.  It was the kind of scenario that would have triggered my instinct to look for a way to get to the river, but events were already set in motion to head that direction, and they were coinciding uncannily with ideal February weather and decent water flows. 

There really wasn't time to do much.  The days are still short.  We couldn't float.  There wasn't time to hike in anywhere far.  We couldn't afford to burn the daylight on driving any great distance.  So I chose a spot I figured would be easy enough to get to while still putting us over some fish.  It's actually a really good hole, and one of the places I can get to the quickest from my house.  A go-to spot tailor-made for times like this.  We covered less than 100 yards of shoreline, spending the majority of the time we had just catching up and casting to a large run that was flowing strongly and impossible to reach all of.  We were launching jigs into the flow and letting the current freely carry them away as they gained both depth and distance, then slowly working them back - sometimes ticking bottom, but mostly just riding a very exaggerated swing while bouncing and popping, bringing the "baitfish" to life along a huge eddy.

It was on the beginning of one of these swings, after I had achieved the maximum amount of depth I was going to get on that drift, that my lure halted. I hadn't really started the retrieve, but I was pretty sure of what it was.  I gave a hopeful hookset  and was rewarded with heavy slow throbs in the deep bend of my 9.5-foot bronzeback.  The fish stayed deep, never making for the surface, and didn't show itself till it was nearly at the bank. Classic brown tactics, especially one with some heft.  And sure enough, a big beautiful brown came into our view as the fight began to enter the shallows.

We didn't measure it.  Both the scale and the tape were right there in my gear, but they never crossed my mind as I steered the fish into position for a lift and photo. The jig was lodged nicely along the outer edge of the hard mouth, and - just like a brown - line was wrapped around the head and snout a few times.  I snipped the line, popped the jig out, and let the line unwrap itself as the fish revived for a few seconds before shooting back out to the depths, skirting some ice chunks bobbing around in the shallows.

Just a week earlier I'd floated another friend in my boat who'd landed a 25-inch brown.  We'd measured that one. This fish was every bit of that length, but easily twice the girth.  And it wasn't the sort of fish who's belly sags over your fingers - it was a solid slab from head to tail.  It barely even seemed to taper to the tail, just abruptly ended in a muscular mass before the broad tail fanned out.

This fish was made for the moment, a result of seizing an opportunity. On a normal work day - one where no effort would be made to get outdoors - this fish wouldn't have been caught.  It wouldn't have even been casted to.  So many of my big fish have come in these stolen opportunities.  And better yet, it was shared with buddy I hadn't fished with in six months.  The trip was made to happen. It wasn't long.  It didn't involve a big undertaking.  A little planning and two hours of fishing time was extracted from an otherwise normal week - but with good weather and good company.  Neither of which would have been experienced without a little effort.  The picture would have been better with both of us in front of the camera....

Trips squeezed and shoe-horned into opportunistic time slots are a great escape.  They give a sense of accomplishment.  A sense of some adventure.  A sense of anticipation.  Something to look forward to.  A little spice to life.  Often some good camaraderie. They can steer the mood of an entire day or even a whole week.
And - they also seem to result in more than their fair share of larger fish, at least in my experience.  This day fit that exactly.  Three fish were landed - two smaller rainbows and the big brown.  I think there are lots of factors at play, things that just might make these little trips a bit of a stacked deck.  I suspect its some combination of elements like picking a very specific spot,  tying on a proven bait and using a proven presentation, eager anticipation leading to confidence in the moment, intentionally looking for prime weather and water conditions, hitting the golden hours of daylight, etc. But also, simply because you went.  A string of one or two hour trips adds up, and before long you've been on the water in more conditions and during more prime-time hours than any one-day trip pinned on the calendar long in advance could provide.  In short, go! - whenever opportunity knocks.

Jig rod philosophy

Lower Yellowstone River sunset

Jigging on a river for trout, to me, is casting and retrieving, working the lure, and picking the water apart. It's being in tune with the bottom and the flow. It's like a combination of drifting a fly and plug fishing. It's part dead drift, part swing, and part mimicking life and action.

A good jig rod is lightweight and able to cast and feel tiny lures, but strong enough, stiff enough to be able to set the hook and fight. It needs to be limber, but not anywhere near floppy. It should be able to cast a 1/32nd ounce lure and fish about 2 to 6lb line. I want enough length for some reach, but not so long that its cumbersome to work the jig. Exact length is least important to me - but I want longer when wading big water and shorter when in a boat or on small water.

Long rod on a rainy Northwest steelhead stream

I love to fish one of my 9.5ft light action rods whenever reach is desirable. By 'reach' I mean lifting the line above the water to eliminate drag - same as when mending a fly line. The difference being that, unless the jig is smaller than about 1/16th ounce, your rod tip will be connected to the bait by a near weightless line - rather than a near weightless lure connected to the rod by a heavy line. The advantage of having reach with a long jig rod is like "high sticking" a dry fly in a small stream - where you float the fly in a small pocket while all the line, except perhaps a portion of the leader, is in the air. Without the drag of the fly line on the current, the fly can stay put nearly indefinitely. The longer the fly rod, the more stream you can high stick. In the case of a jig on a long rod,

small-stream, long rod steelhead

you aren't limited to only the reach of your rod. A cast can be made across current to reach a seam or pocket. Then the length of the rod bridges the line between tip and where the line enters the water. The higher the reach, the less drag.  Length, within reason, equals control. Without the drag, the jig stays put longer, much like the fly. This could be for the presentation itself, or it could be to achieve the depth needed before allowing the jig to swing downstream along the current seam.  A longer rod gives greater reach, and a steeper angle between rod tip and lure.  Again, length equals control. This is even more pronounced when fishing a jig float-n-fly method - where the jig is suspended under a float (similar to a nymph under an indicator). Often you can lift your line off the water entirely so that your rod tip is connected directly to the float, bridging all water, current, and obstacles between you and your lure.

Montana carp on a kiddie rod

A long, limber rod has other benefits as well, a primary one being the enhanced ability to use light line. After 'discovering' the long rod while fishing the streams of the Northwest I efficiently fought and landed numerous small-stream steelhead on four pound line.  Light line has many advantages – invisibility, castability, lure action and presentation, reaching bottom quickly, etc.  All of which benefit jigs greatly.  But it has obvious disadvantages too – breakage on the hookset, breakage during a strong run, abrasion on teeth or structure, too long of a fight prior to release, etc.  I’ve spoken with many anglers who contend that big fish can’t be landed - at least consistently - on light line.  But that doesn’t explain the countless heavy fish landed on tiny fly tippets every day.  It doesn’t explain the Northwest anglers netting salmon and steelhead in small streams every year.  Of course a 15-pound fish can be landed with 4-pound line on a 5-foot rod – it happens all the time.  My son and I landed a carp like that on his kiddie rod with two eyelets and a non-existent drag. But the angler with a long rod has a much greater degree of control during that fight, and his chances of landing the fish, in my opinion, are much greater.  And in a timely manner. I’ve caught steelhead and big trout on 5.5-t o 6-foot rods and light line, but, unless the lure presentation requires a short rod, I’d rather have a 9 or 10 footer in hand if given the option ahead of time.  

big-river, long rod rainbow on jig

Lighter lines aren’t fully capable handling the shock of a big fish on their own. This was demonstrated plainly and uniquely to me once in Florida during the after-midnight hours while tarpon “jumping” with a random angler I’d met earlier in the day when flipping plastic worms to lily pads for largemouth.  This guy would go out on bridges in the wee hours of the morning and swim large single-hooked, barbless jigs on heavy gear along the shadow line created by the bridge lights.  Maybe it is big sport down there, maybe he was alone in his pastime, I really don’t know.  The goal was to hook tarpon, let them go ballistic, and then shake the hook out without landing it.  He used a “shock” leader – a heavy piece of monofilament (as in maybe 100-150 lb test) for the first several feet, then something like 50 or 80-lb on the spool.  I’m sure this is common in salt water big game fish, but it was new to me.  To me a leader usually goes the other way – connecting a heavier line to a lure/fly via a lighter, less visible line.  That night only brought action from one tarpon, but I’ll never forget the refrigerator-sized fish that launched itself out of the black water into the glow of the street light to nail that lure as it was rising to meet the surface.  I could see how the sheer power of that hit would likely have blasted through that 80-lb line as if it were a strand of spider web.  The man I was fishing with explained how without the leader the line often breaks just from being battered by the powerful body during the fight - at least with his unforgiving style perched on a bridge with a stout rod. 

Missouri rainbow on a jig and Crossfire rod

Back in a trout stream or steelhead river my tarpon experience seems hardly applicable.  I suppose the lesson is simply in the shock a big fish can impart.  Lighter lines can benefit from some help when battling big fish.  Much of that help comes from an angler's skill and experience, as well as the quality of the reel's drag system, but also from other tools used.  For the tarpon, that was the buffer of a shock leader.  For salmonoids, I feel like a long rod is one of the best tools to make fishing a light line most feasible.  I have no measured statistics, but a long limber rod must absorb a great deal more shock than a shorter one.  Combine a long rod with a good drag, and a light line is practically unbreakable.  I even find myself palming my spool, same as I would a fly reel. With more control supplied by the rod, the drag can be set more loosely, and custom adjustments made with pressure from the hand in direct response to whatever the fish is doing.  Runs can be more quickly stifled and the fish more effectively turned or steered.

9.5 foot G. Loomis Bronzeback. Notice the deep bend
and palming the spool.

And then in the other direction, when a fish jumps or turns and the line would normally go slack, the deep bend of the rod helps maintain tension as it begins to unload before your reel can catch back up.  The line is more gently loaded and unloaded, which translates into less shock.  Even the shock of the hookset is tempered a bit, which I think is more beneficial than not.  It reduces the chance of breaking off in that moment, and I don't find I that need to compensate for what seems like a softer hookset.  My theory is that because of the rod length, the tip travels a far greater distance with the same hookset motion made on a short rod, so despite the "softer" or less rigid hookset, it has still been done adequately, with all the same power, and perhaps even more evenly in that the rod has been well-loaded with a deep bend, alleviating the need to "catch up" and reel down to the a fighting position.  How often have you seen someone make a hookset and then lose the fish as they try to bring their rod back down out of the air, reeling wildly to gain back all the line their overzealous jerk created.  A long rod does this in one motion - the rod goes back for the set, bows deeply and stays arced, and then the fight can begin from that point as the blank unloads the tension.  

The longer length also allows for the fish to be landed and released more quickly than on a shorter rod.  The fight is more in the angler's court, where with the shorter rod the fisherman is much more dependent on the reel's drag alone, and will lose much more line and much more time to runs and surges.  This same advantage is well portrayed by tenkara fly rods (which is described well here by Gink and Gasoline).  Even if you've never used one, or never had the surprise of tying into a bass while fishing for bluegill with a cane pole, imagine trying to fight a sizeable fish with the line tied to your finger tip versus fighting that same fish on a line tied to the end of a long, limber rod.  Pretty easy to visualize which one is more in the fisherman's favor.

mature rainbow taken on a jig in tiny, clear water

Aside from its forgiving qualities, during the fight the long rod helps reach over logs and rocks your line might have been raked across with a shorter rod, and it helps you reach over streamside bushes when a jog downstream becomes necessary.  Fly fisherman already utilize all this, even if just by default of having a long rod in their hands already for the purpose of making more efficient casts.  As a fly fisherman, I love to fight fish on a longer rod.  I did right from the beginning, and I’ve been doing it most of my life.  But until I got the Northwest and was introduced to long spinning rods, it never occurred to me that the same advantages were available to spinning gear.  Before then, a long spinning rod to me was 7 feet.  And in my little world, they tended to get heavier as they got longer.  When I used spinning gear for trout before leaving the South, my rod was often only 5 feet long. Sometimes when I was fishing jigs I'd bring a 6-footer I might normally use for smallmouth bass jigs. 

Rod length is less important from a boat, where you are already elevated above the water and more likely to maneuver yourself closer to your target.  It is also less important on smaller streams where the scale of everything you are doing is simply smaller, coupled with the fact that you can often gain additional height from the bank or some obstacle in the stream.  The exception being when conditions are such that there is less of a cast and more of a "hold over and drop," like along extremely brushy streams, or when you are reaching horizontally over structure, such as a vertical stream bank.

My boat rods are 5.5 to 6.5 feet.  My small stream rods range on up to 7 (and occasionally up to 9.5).  Typically I outfit folks with the 5.5 or 6 foot rod lengths, although I do keep at least two "loaner" 9.5 foot rods in my tubes for those folks who'd like to give one a go.  I find generally that people fishing with me who aren't jig fisherman already have a better command of shorter rods, and it's just best to start with what you know. Especially in the confined space of a boat.  For myself, while in the boat, I'll fish plugs on the shorter rods (because my retrieve is mostly done with tip down) and toss jigs on the 6 and 6.5 foot rods - often my Crossfire. The Crossfire makes an excellent boat road for working jigs, and was developed especially for that purpose.  It is also often my second rod when walking along and wading big water - I generally keep one holstered behind me while using the other, each with a different purpose.

For travel, I use 7-foot four-piece rods.  Easily packable, and its length fills most situations - enough length to be serviceable on large water and short enough to handle small water.  I typically would prefer to err on the side of too long than too short anyway. I toss it both in a suitcase for car travel and

7-foot Diawa Spincast pack rod

in my backpack for hikes. Diawas's Spincast is under $50 and feels far more quality than that. It comes is lengths from 5.5ft to 7ft. For those a bit more performance driven, the Presso is just a step up and runs about $80. There's a lot of value and performance stuffed into those rods, and they are among very few spinning rods (particularly light spinning rods) that come in four sections. Many come in three, which to me, just isn't very handy in terms of packability.  I have multiple fly rods that come in four pieces. In fact, it is the norm these days for a fly rod to be offered in four sections. Maybe the rest of the industry will catch on. Fenwick has a 7-footer that comes in four pieces, and Okuma has one as well. I haven't tried either. 

Now that said, I LOVE a one-piece rod. Many of my rods, including the Crossfire and an array of others, are single piece. You can't beat a continuous blank when it comes to sensitivity and power. And it's superior in terms of maintenance and durability - no ferrules to crack, no sockets to fill with dirt, no casted off rod tips, no eyelets out of alignment, no second thoughts on a powerful hookset or hang up. When possible, I use my one piece rods. The rest of the time, which is a considerable amount, I want my rod to be as packable as possible.

Any rod can be a jig rod, but like any fishing situation, you will get far more out of your gear and your day on the water if you match your gear to the presentation you are trying to make.  Far too many people try to match their gear to the fish they are hoping to catch, or load their spools with a heavy line because they don't want to break off.  Start with the lure you are going to toss and the presentation you are going to make, then work backwards from there, choosing the best line to match it, the best rod for that line, lure, and presentation, and then the most appropriate reel for that line weight.  The fish, regardless of size, can be landed on just about any set up - but you have to hook it first.  Fish the right gear and you will greatly increase your chances of that.

 22-inch brown taken on a jig and long rod

Outdoors in Montana: 2014

2014 began with lots of changes.  The final weeks of 2013 found us moving to Helena from Billings. I'd been given the opportunity to transfer there, and things fell into place rather rapidly on all fronts to make that happen.  We celebrated New Years in a new home. And the outdoors were now at our fingertips.

I started making trips onto the Missouri right away, and by March I'd quadrupled my previous knowledge of fishing on that river. This blog was born as a result. There is so much more to learn.

2014's best rainbow

Throughout the year I regularly hit the Missouri.  I fished below Three Forks, frequently walked into the Land of the Giants, and fished all over the place below Holter. Sometimes I floated, sometimes I was on foot.  I'd slip down there to start the day,  I'd stop as I drove along to somewhere else, or I'd hike in or float and spend dawn to dusk.

2014 saw other changes too.  Turned 35.  Gray showed up more

Missouri rainbow

prominently in the sideburns. The hair on top continued its decline toward whispy like a thick foggy reluctant to burn off. There's a possibility I may have hit my belly a time or two when closing my tailgate. Sometimes when I bend over to tie my shoes or pick something up I catch myself wondering what else I might be able to accomplish while I'm down there.  And I finished out the year with a bunion surgery...

Spring brought camping trips to places like the Musselshell and Marias Rivers for browns and pike, day trips onto local waters like Park Lake in the Elkhorns for cutthroat and grayling.

Madison brown, Kit's Tackle glass minnow

Work and family trips took me to the Madison multiple times.  I fished in the Beartrap twice, above Ennis, and the stretch beneath Hebgen Lake. Each trip there saw browns over 20 inches. At least one rainbow exceeded that length along with several others that were close to breaking the mark. I also learned that often nobody is there at the first of April - or anywhere else for that matter.  Prime waters, all to yourself.

Pair of bull moose in the Elkhorn Mountains near home

We traveled through Yellowstone and the Tetons, and later Glacier. I saw more moose this year than any year previously that I've been in the West. Only one was in a national park. The rest were elsewhere, spotted while driving or hiking.  Including a pair of bulls in late summer four miles from our house. Other trips included driving roads of the Missouri Breaks, rubbernecking through Virginia City, and touring Lewis and Clark Caverns.

Typical upper Missouri walleye

2014 saw more walleye on the end of my line than probably any year prior.  And I encountered them in several places.  Its the first time in more than a dozen years that I've lived anywhere near them.
I also made a good run at northern pike this year, taking them in multiple places as well. Hooked them on surface baits, plugs, and soft plastics. The best of the year was a fat 36-incher taken on a sight-cast when my partner pointed it out as we floated by.

2014's best pike

Summer brought more floats, and some great hikes. My wife got to make some of her own solo camping and hiking trips.  She spent time in Glacier with a friend from out of state.  I joined a friend of mine on an awesome 14-mile day trip into the Beartooth wilderness to fish a couple lakes for cutthroat and saw another moose.  Summer brought camping trips to places like the Little Blackfoot River and the Boulder River and saw lots of dry fly action.  Friends and family from different parts of the country came to visit.  Some joined camping trips. Some joined trips to the national parks. Some just floated down a river with me.

2014 Tetons snapshot

In addition to those rivers already mentioned, day trips were made on others like the Stillwater, Yellowstone, Boulder, Swan, North Fork Flathead. More day trips were made to some of the same rivers from before, like the Little Blackfoot, Madison, and Missouri from its headwaters to around

Swan River rainbow on Zig Jig

Great Falls and below Fort Peck. Often those day trips would coincide with other travel in the form of an opportunity taken when passing a river, fishing a stream after a day of field work, or hitting the water at daylight before the rest of the family was ready to roll out of bed.   Some of those opportunistic trips resulted in me hooking my first several bulls, taking some nice westslope cutthroats, some crazy fighting pike, a few smallmouth bass, hawgish browns, and some fat small water rainbows.  I walked the massive Fort Peck dam and dabbled in tiny pike streams in northeast Montana along the Canadian border.  All were fish I wouldn't have caught and places I wouldn't have explored without always travelling with fishing gear.

double (headed for the grill)

An afternoon trip early in the year resulted in a phenomenal double with my six year old son.  On a summer trip my five year old daughter caught her first trout on a fly unassisted.

first unassisted catch on a fly

My kids and I also took  a number of short summer trips into the mountains around our house. These trips were for adventure and exploration for those members of the family under four feet tall.  We fashioned bows and arrows, swords, and spears.  Over the summer the arsenal in the garage grew.  We took hikes, climbed trees, and saw what we could see.  We blew up an ant hill with my .44.  On one outing we stalked a herd of cattle in the woods, and it gave the kids a glimpse of what that kind of hunt can be like.  It ended well, with a cow finally discovering our presence but unsure of what we were.  So we stood and showed ourselves and backed away before she took guarding the herd a little too seriously.

Later on we made a final adventure of 2014 to search out and track down a Christmas tree while snow shoeing in some national forest.

successful tree hunters

2013 Washington steelhead

I didn't get a trip in to Washington for steelhead like in 2013.  I sure hope 2015 brings one.

But I did travel to Michigan and brought back a Stealthcraft.  I'd spent much of the spring and summer getting the details of the order worked out, and by the end of August it was finally floating in Montana waters. While in Michigan I got to take a short trip down a small piece of the Pere Marquette.

Stealthcraft MiniFly leaving the shop

Back in Montana the boat spent the rest of 2014 taking friends and family for floats down the Missouri. Once it took a mother and son duo from Chicago on a couple November days of drifting.  There were also trips where the boat took only me down the river, and I'd ride my bike back up.

Jaime and Aiden from Chicago in the MiniFly

I started laying the groundwork for serious night fishing for big browns in 2015.  I began locating areas browns key in on and spent time getting to know reaches of river for dark floats and stretches of river bank for night hikes.  I'm going to mark off every full moon of the warm  months on the calendar and start amassing a big collection of mouse patterns and other furry fly beasts. And I also intend to see what nocturnal browns think of some bass techniques. Looking forward to some big topwater action.

Early winter float

I had a float scheduled for this week. The weather was looking good - nice and stable, highs hovering at about freezing. Clear skies without being cold-front blue. But in the days leading up to this was a bit of a storm. First it rained, which then froze, and then it snowed. I'd floated the day before the storm, and as a result, had left my Stealthcraft hitched and uncovered. It filled with dense snow and ice. A couple days of barely thawing temps only served to turn the snow into concrete in the bottom of the boat. So, after my wife was out of the garage and safely on her way and out of sight, I snuck the boat into it.  I shoveled out all that I could, set a space heater on the front deck, and left it for the day. That night I broke up the inches of ice in the bottom and shoveled more out. By morning, the day of my float, there was nothing but water in the boat. I hitched it up, pulled the drain plugs, and set off to the river.

The guy I was fishing with and I ran our own shuttle, and then launched, sending a hoard of geese off the water and into the air from what would normally be a ramp buzzing with people.  Mine was the only truck parked there.  The first half hour or more was void of action. Bald eagles watched intently, seeming to move perches after we drifted by so they could watch us go by all over again. We casted to rocky banks, swirling eddys, longer riffles, and grassy flats. It wasn't till we started along an outside bend where the the water was about chest deep and flowed in a slow, but uniform pattern with a subtle chop that we got our first hook up. I dropped anchor as the fish made its first run, and then we proceeded to take 6 or 8 more solid fish from that reach. They were all a thick 16 to 19 inches - remarkably uniform in size. As we proceeded down river we would target similar looking runs of fairly deep water with steady, uniform flows. They weren't cruising the shallows and they didn't seem to be holding in swifter water. After the slow start, we were doing well now. Fish were coming on 1/16th-ounce Zig Jigs and 3-inch soft jerkbaits on 1/8th-ounce minnow heads.

We rounded a snowy bend, finished up another productive stretch of outer bank, and came to a ledge of rock where the river is forced around a fixed point, creating a large, deep, circular eddy behind. Current hugs both the upstream and downstream sides, each flowing opposite directions and colliding at the point. It's a place I like to spend time focusing on whenever I'm passing by - trying to make a jig work all the faces of rock and reach the extreme depths of the hole. Back in the summer another fellow floating with me on a rainy rainy August day had landed a fat brown of  22 inches on the downstream fringe of this hole. So far that's been the only "big" one that the hole has given up for me, but there's got to be many others - I just haven't unlocked the secret to the presentation in this big swirling hole yet. I was just explaining that out loud when my partner ties into what turns out to be the second big brown of this hole. A nice 21-inch fish that started with a sluggish fight and then finished strong at the net. This is what we'd come for. Fish like this are well worth pushing ice out of your eyelets every few casts. The brown had taken the soft jerkbait dropped along the upstream side of the rock ledge, nailing it as it reached the extent of its drift and was on its way back up to the surface on a taut line - a "minnow" caught in a current it couldn't escape from.  An easy meal for a fish-eating fish on an icy day.

Later in the float, right before taking out, we would drift by a smaller rock ledge that provided very similar structure, depth, and flow. From the bow of the boat my partner fed his jig to the icicled ledge at very close range as I hovered just upstream of it with the electric motor. As the jig swung up in the current and came into view, a brown that dwarfed the first appeared behind it, zeroing in on the rising jig. The same presentation that took the first.

Watched hits often don't go well. At least not with lures like this that you are in tune with feeling rather than watching. It's different with a surface bait - a dry fly, a zara spook, a buzzbait - baits that you anticipate seeing the strike on before the hook set. This was a fish that materialized at a point in the retrieve when you are thinking of your next cast.  Seeing a fish of these proportions does something to a person's reasoning abilities. For the moment the average person, especially one who is very seldom in the position of seeing large fish at the end of the line, goes a little mushy in the head.  My partner cried out some sort of gasping, astonished sentence.  Then, more coherently says "Look at the size of this one!"  He stuck with it and managed a hook-up - like coaxing a pike with a figure eight at the boat - although the hookset was premature and the battle unfortunately short.  What followed was one of those moments of silence that happens in every boat from time to time.  The blank stare.  First at the water, then at the dangling, lonely lure, and then at whoever you just shared that moment with.  Defeat.  And yet, success.  One of the fish on the upper end of the scale was momentarily fooled.  It was the caliber of fish many folks hope to catch once in a lifetime.  It had been hooked, and its whereabouts are now logged in memory.  The blank stare gives way to a broad grin.  There will be a day to try again.  And it will likely be another frozen winter day when not another soul is floating and the water is alive with fish.

Stealthcraft

Getting a decent river boat has been on my wish list for about 15 years. I haven't been without one entirely - back when I was in college I got my hands on a narrow 14-foot aluminum boat that I've hauled from coast to coast in the bed of my old pick up. A classmate came into lab one day and, knowing I intended to get a boat, told me she'd come across one in the woods that morning while chasing her runaway dog. I followed her directions and sure enough, there it was. An old aluminum jon boat situated over an abandoned and overgrown chicken coop. It had apparently served as the roof before the forest swallowed it up with disuse. At the time, an aluminum jon boat that I could carry in the bed of my pickup was exactly what I had in mind. Both for rivers and for a particular lake with no boat ramps that required four wheel drive and creative launching.  I tracked down the landowner by going to the courthouse and sifting through land records. Hard to believe I've had that boat since before all that was researchable on the internet. I called the elderly lady up who happened to live a couple counties over and got the answer I was hoping for. "Why sure son, I'd be happy for you to have that." Turns out some previous neighbors had spilled over onto her property in the past with their gardens and such, and so it was a relic of previous trespass anyway. Useless to her.
I hauled the boat out of the woods that very day.
I have since banged that boat down rivers in five states. I've launched it in alligator-inhabited southern waters across Texas and Florida.  I've floated it in northwestern alpine lakes on the reflection of volcanoes.  I built a little pad on the blunt bow to receive a transom-mount trolling motor. I reversed the motor's head so that "forward" pulls the boat forward, allowing me to use it like any bow-mount trolling motor or to hover in current with the bow pointed upstream. But it took what might be it's last trip for a while this spring - a float down a prairie tailwater where it boated trout, pike, and walleye.  A superior vessel now sits next to it in my driveway.

I'd been researching river-worthy boats for a long time. Mostly drift boats, but also motorable boats. I came across Stealthcraft, a company in western Michigan that produces a wide variety of motorable drift boats.  Even rowable power drifters they refer to as "all terrain boats" (my next boat). And they build them all out of a lightweight, honeycomb plastic material coated in kevlar composites and fiberglass resulting in a light, tough, and quiet boat. Each boat is custom built to order and the options are seemingly endless, even down to custom artwork on the sides if you are so inclined. I soaked up every bit of media I could find on them. Even followed a boat down the highway I saw being trailered and talked to the owner when he pulled into a gas station.  I'd found the place I wanted to buy from. I settled on one of their smallest models - the 12-foot MiniFly. I wanted to

continue my trend of launching anywhere and everywhere, ramp or no ramp. I wanted the boat to be intentionally motorable, yet I wanted a drift boat.  I wanted it to be light. I wanted it to be spacious and comfortable (relative to my narrow little 14ft jon boat), but small and nimble enough to tackle tiny waters.  I added electrical features such as running/navigation lights, headlights, interior lights, and a 12-volt power port for things like cell phones, a spot light, etc. I had it wired to the transom so that I could hook up my electric motor without cords trailing around the interior of the boat. I added an onboard charger for plug-in-and-go battery charging.  I had chine guards installed so I could strike rocks with a little more peace of mind.  I also opted to keep the front deck as open as possible, installing a removable casting brace (rather than a built-in hood style) and a removable pedestal seat (rather than a built-in box seat - strapped down Yeti coolers with seats mounted in the lids are also an option). The open front can be used to hold a large cooler, to pack camping gear, or to carry hunting gear and game. When floating solo I pull out the seat and casting brace and cast from the fully open deck while anchored, with as much space as if standing on the carpeted bow of a bass boat.  And all of this was thousands of dollars cheaper than any other brand I researched - and that would have been with none of my electrical upgrades, if they were even available at all.  I wound up with an affordable, highly functional, and an extremely versatile boat I can use day or night, motor or no motor.  It has three areas of covered storage (even with me opting out of a built-in box seat for the bow angler), a tackle tray that runs half the length of the boat, and racks to hold four rods underneath the tray.  The interior of the boat is fully open, front to back.  A guy can walk circles around the boat when hooked up.

I was fortunate enough to get to make the trip from Montana to Michigan to pick it up. It was nice to meet and visit with Mike Batcke (the owner of the company) and the crew that had built the boat. Even took a little float down a piece of the famous Pere Marquette, the first river in America to have brown trout.  If you pick your boat up in person, Mike will treat you right - a night in his lodge and trip down the river.  You might even get a shirt and hat or two. I was impressed with the area and its rivers, and if ever possible, I will return for some winter steelhead fishing with Steve Cornetet, Batcke's Baldwin Creek Lodge's head guide.  The evening Steve took me down the Pere Marquette I did land my first Michigan brown and failed to bring a much nicer one to the net, but none of the salmon or steelhead runs from the Great Lakes were in the system at the time.

My boat's first trip on water was a walleye float on the upper Missouri River - the stretch above the lakes and famous blue ribbon tailwater sections.  I was pleased that I could easily motor the boat just as I had intended - "rowing" with my electric motor and fishing at the same time instead of being confined to the oars for mobility. The anchor system is easily reached from either the rower's seat or from immediately behind it. I can have one hand on the tiller and one hand on the anchor rope.  This is extremely handy for pulling a sticky anchor, or for dropping anchor exactly where I want to be.
Subsequent trips have taken place on various sections of the famous tailwater below Holter Dam.  The Missouri is my "home" water at this point in my life, and with the boat being so new, it hasn't been launched in another stream yet.  2015 will change that.
It has carried various members of my family, a number of friends, and some folks I'd never met till the

days we fished.  To buy the boat I sold a pickup truck I'd had for 17 years.  The first vehicle I owned.
All the things I'd done in that truck!
All the places it had carried my old aluminum jon boat to!
And now its legacy will continue in the form of a fine boat.  One that both my kids have already caught fish from, and will likely continue to for much of their lives.
I've floated it in stellar Montana summer weather.  I've floated in an all day down-pour where twice I had to drag the boat on land and pull the drain plugs.  I've floated with snow blowing sideways. I've broken ice out of the floor with a shovel.

Its been a good boat, all six months of its young life.  I admit I row it infrequently, but when I row, it responds well. Spins on a dime. Tracks nicely. There are five oarlock positions and an adjustable (and removable) foot brace on the floor.  Even at just 12 feet it carries three folks fine.  I've spent my time with a fisherman on each end while I row and I've also stood in the stern at the electric motor, while all three folks fish.  The boat is absolutely ideal for two fisherman, and comfortable enough for three that I don't hesitate when the need arises.
Mostly I stand by the transom and guide my drift with the tiller of my trolling motor, hopping onto the oars whenever the water is too shallow for the motor.  Of course that will change on swifter rivers, but in flow where it's possible, using the reversed trolling motor is working as I intended - just as I used to do on my jon boat for all those years, but in much more comfort and functionality.  In future trips I'll be sticking one of my outboards on it and puttering up portions of the Missouri and other slower rivers where ramps are infrequent.  I won't be able to cruise like a jet boat, but I'll likely be one of the only drift boats on some of those stretches.  I'm sure it will see use in lakes as well.

So far I have only one complaint - it takes forever to launch.... if anybody else is around that is.   I spend so much time fielding questions and giving tours of features while at a ramp that it seems half my day of fishing has slipped away by the time I'm floating.  Oh well, I understand the attraction.  I should have brought a stack of business cards back from Michigan....