TIS THE SEASON CHRISTMAS 2011

Greetings to Family and Friends

Patrick, Ellen, Nick, Cate and Tom are well and in great spirits. We started 2011 celebrating in Mexico. We like Alamos ,Sonora and were there for the traditional Mexican Posada that celebrates the travels of Mary and Joseph looking for a room in Bethlehem. The Posada is a very colorful and solemn tradition. After a wonderful Christmas in Alamos, we headed down to a favorite camping RV beach north of Puerto Vallarta overlooking the ocean kayaking, swimming and watching the sun set over a warm Pacific. Mexico was deserted because of the fears generated by news stories. It reminded Patrick of being there in the 1960’s when his family had the beaches to themselves. Nick took time from the University and traveled with Ellen and Pat and the boys took their dual sport Kawasaki 650 motorcycles. We managed to get way back into the mountain with these motorbikes where the bird life and coffee plants thrive. We ate giant lobster, shrimp, fresh fish and street tacos until we couldn’t hold anymore. One night Nick came home with 8 whole shrimp he bought off the fisherman and they were 10 inches. Cate moved from San Francisco, where she graduated from the University of San Francisco, up into the foothills of Sierra Nevada. She traveled over to Taiwan in the spring to visit our son Tom and explore the Far East. Our youngest son Tom is a student at the National Taiwan University a program funded by the University of Nevada to study Mandarin. He has spent two years there and after our scout, Cate, returned raging about the beauty and wonderful people, Ellen and Pat flew over in June for a visit.

To say the least, we were surprise at how advanced Taiwan is compared to the mainland; such vibrancy. Ellen saw her friend from high school who works the nuclear reactor and we visited a graduate student from the Purdue days. What impressed us the most was our son had matured so quickly and spoke Mandarin which enabled the three of us to tour the back roads on the Island. No wonder China wants to own Taiwan. The Taiwanese are the model of free enterprise, a highly educated population and a unique democracy. Not once did we see a policeman, chewing gum on the pavement or litter. The transportation system is excellent, the cultural and ancestry honored and in the end, Tom had a developed zeal in him that only youth can inhabit.

Upon our return to the Sierra Nevada’s here in Reno, our first impression was how uncrowded and quiet RENO is. Our research company Maxell has taken on a herculean task of data mining for answers that might explain the crash of the Mule Deer population in the Great Basin. An exciting project that will have profound impact as 87% of the land base is public lands and open spaces. The research require the latest in data mining and forecasting systems that have never been applied to biology in a quantitative manner. I thank Purdue University each day for the exposure it provided us toward taking an engineering approach toward biological problem solving.

Summer was long in coming and Patrick traveled to Montana with our hunting dogs for his annual fishing time. He met several friends in Missoula and found that fly fishing was slow due to a prolonged snowpack but came with a bang. Many trout came up to visit the dry fly the King of Sports. He fished the Missouri, Beaverhead, Ruby, Odell spring creek and then traveled down to our family land on the Madison River near Quake Lake. Ellen spent most of the summer trying to develop a forecasting model for the behemoth Canadian company Telus and so her fishing days were in check. She vowed never again to miss a Montana summer

In the fall Patrick traveled north again to train the dogs on the Canadian Prairies where the ducks and geese congregate before heading to their winter grounds. You can follow his travel blog at http://thesportingfields.blogspot.com/.

Winter is here and there is no snow in the mountains. Often we have a white Christmas but not this year. We are preparing to head back to Arizona where Pat was raised and all our children spent many Christmas camping in the desert. Being there in the Woolsey Wilderness, we skip the hectic commercial side of the season and experience spiritual time. Tis the news from the Sierra Nevada’s wishing our family and friends the warmest holidays with loved ones.

Cheers Patrick, Ellen, Nicholas, Catherine and Thomas (Fe and Tess our faithful dog friends)

WINTER PLANNING TO HUNT THE DESERT DOVES AND QUAIL

I still want to ski but can not handle the cold anymore. I miss moguls skiing in the old days so my need for speed is satisfied by four cylinder 1300cc Royal Star and a KLR650cc. I wish, though, I could live in Montana sometimes in mid December and hunt the roosters on sunny days, no wind in the mid teens. My dogs really don't give a hoot about the cold as long as there is game. And to get game, I will to go back home to Arizona, feel the warmth of the sun and camp in the Sonora desert that Edward Albee so loved with campfires and then hunting for flights of doves and wily quail.

Doves cooked almost tartar quickly over a open fire basted with beer cut in half, Curritck sauce then a air chilled Merlot is so rich you eat ten of them. The preparation for gear, clothing, guns, ammo, provisions transitioning from a drift boat Montana trout expedition all summer to a Canadian Prairie campaign for 5 weeks, Nevada Chukar, celebrating Christmas and New Years pass shooting in the desert can jade the the man. I look forward to each journey and wonder if the birds will be there (THEY ALWAYS ARE) AND IF MY AIM IS GOOD ENOUGH TO GET GAME FOR MY DOGS.

I'll know in a couple of weeks

DUAL SPORTS ADDED- THE 650 ENDUROS

Toys, they're not toys, they're tools to advance the passion. Motorbikes for the speed monger can take many forms, from my Nortons, to Harley, to BMW Airhead, to present Royal Stars and the most compelling the KLR650. While in the back country near Copper Canyon in Sonora Mexico, our KLR got us into some way back villages where tangerine and Indians treated us with great difference. Riding was akin to the moguls skiing at Ajax or Buttermilk.

Stay tuned as we discover the best carrier system are discovered

STUCK AND WOLVES HOWLING BUT LOVIN' IT ALL

It finally happened. After 25 years in the Canadian Bush I was stuck deep in the bush, stranded, center stuck, high centered, marooned without a shovel or hi boy. For two sleepless nights and almost three days, I grew to respect those that lived by trapping of homesteading. What raised the hair on my back was when the pack of wolves come to visit and howled for some time within 30 yards. I dare not get out of my bag to stoke the fire. There were six and had the Grand Cherokee surrounded. I imagined the movie "American Werewolf in London," and I was on the Moors. I was 15 miles back into the Saskatchewan FORREST. I had fire, water, sleeping gear by accident weapons and my two faithful dogs but I was stuck and was not about to walk the 20 miles back into town.

I counted on being found by Moose hunters. Who drove the trails in their quads looking for the elusive animals. We were coming back after a day of ruffed grouse hunting and with my limit I was anxious to return to the town bar where the Owner Carmen promised to let me watch the World Series. I would miss the greatest game ever played in the World Series where LaRussa and Lance Berkman undid the Sabermetrics and made baseball a game of magic again. Thank God they beat the Texans with two strikes against them.

By the second day, I was getting concerned as the snow fell. There was more panic than real but with the instinctive reactions to wolves singing at night and little progress trying to get the Jeep of center stuck and hoping for a sound my imagination was going wild. If I had SPOT but then again it is a weak system in the deep forest.

NORTHERN LIGHTS ARE RADIANT AND MOVE THE WATERFOWL SOUTH

The cold nights make for great sleeping as long as it doesn't get below 20. I detached the Jeep and went into the Badlands in search of grouse and found they had not conveyed up. Instead of 50 eyes looking out there were only 12 to 20 making for excellent rough shooting. Sharptails after feeding on grain and alfalfa make excellent table fare and since I was on a "bush meat" diet for the next 3 weeks I cooked the whole birds. I prefer grouse of the Hungarian Partridge.


The Drahthaar, Griffon, Poodle Pointer, Wirehair combo hunting machine, Fe her nick name for Drath Fe Dar was in her elements and overshadow the Labrador Pup. She was so intense on her hunting that quickly she was on point quivering at a buffalo berry patch.I closed my Hollis hammergun I kept the Lab at heel like we do on the grouse Moors in Scotland and when I got within 10 feet the brush exploded with the familiar AHAHAHAH cackle of flushing grouse. I remember a right to left swing flush, then a faint recall of a fallen grouse before turning to a quick straightedge flush but I went blank. Rarely can I recall anything after the mount until a bird has fallen. It is all instinct. When I can recall I miss because I am bird watching lifting my head to high watch the beautiful flush. Sometime I think I miss just to watch the grouse sail across the slough.


The pointer quickly retrieves the first grouse and I must get the birds from her quickly for she loves the taste of blood. The lab bring the second grouse to heel and I have a brace in the Filson. I tag my birds as required in Saskatchewan and decide to hunt for Huns

THE WESTERN-PACIFIC FLYWAY STAGING WAS INCREDIBLE

One never tires of the journey northward to witness the waterfowl staging. Magic and miracles are the best way to describe these days in the field camping alone, I prefer western staging to the forest. The process place your soul into a zen meditative stare knowing there is no rush and you can make camp anywhere you wish . I watch for hours bird behavior and flight. They meet and travel in group towards they south eating and playing along the way. The resident game birds endure all seasons the Prairies throw at them like many Saskatchewan Farmer but many other take heed and follow the waterfowl. I've been blessed and often with my wife and children and certainly my firends the canines drive the same routes of the Western flyway for the last 23 years spending the new years and winter in Arizona and Mexico camping, hunting and fishing

THE SKY OPENS AND I AM ALONE FINALLY

I never have problems with Canadian Immigration when I pick small towns. Avoid Sweetgrass, Montana crossing at all cost. It is run by trainee trying to make a mark. I can chat with Canadian Immigration about hunting, politics with crops as oppose to the American who are testosterone driven in full flack-jacket regalia with Glocks, mace and Tasers weighing them down. They watch too much TV. Once through the American maze across the border, I signed my declaration forms for my smooth bores totally seven side by side. They included my

• 1876 W.C Scott and Sons Premier Grade thumb-lever Hammer gun with dolphin head rebounding hammers. The wood was Turkish walnut and was without doubt the finest handmade gun of its kind. It was made the same year and month Cuter bit the dust at the Battle of Little Bighorn. The weapon 2 of 4 belonged to Earl of York and was used by Lord Ripon when he came home from India
  
• Winchester Model 21 made in 1947 Duck model that brings down biggest of waterfowl. Tom Clancy, the author, once told me this weapon was on par with flak batteries over Normandy. It shoots sweet with my Hevi and Bismuth Shot. Stan Baker the Seattle wizard of barrels modified the tubes to handle steel. The Model 21 was commissioned by General Omar Bradley
  
• A Holland and Holland SLE 20 bore royal ejector circa 1936 for upland. I compact wello made weapon a new as the day it was made. It was brought over by Marshall Fields of Chicago and given to my father for an Architectural favor when he lived in Barrington, Ill
• I Hollis 1873 12 bore dolphin head rebounding hammer bar action with with exhibition grade timber and engraving worthy of Sharptail. I acquire this masterpiece on a trip with my eldest son to the South Island of New Zealand on a camping and fishing trip. It was acquired the same day Pope John Paul died in Rome.
• Work of Art an exquisite Favure LePage y Fils and Son PARIS, a 1892 12 bore SLE with the finest engraving I've ever seen. Made with articulated triggers circa and was a gift of Napoleon III to a Scottish courtier who lived to Oban Scotland to shoot driven grouse and wood pigeon. I acquired the rare LePage in Oban north west of Glasgow on our 20 wedding anniversary trip for grouse hunting near Balmorl. Made in 1892.
• AYA model 53 SLE 20 Ga with Picasso style engraving Many trips to Argentina
• Lastly a 1864 McCririck made in Ayr Scotland. A rare under lever back action with Damascus tube worthy of North Dakota Pheasants. This is the only under lever hammer gun I have located made in Scotland.

I look back to America and remarked that the new American border complex seem over-the-top in such a small place with less than 20 crossing a day. The Canadian laughed and said they built six of the 70 million dollar bunkers across Montana and remarked, "no wonder the government has a debt problem." How right he was.
At last I was on my way, felt the freedom to hunt and camp any where I choose, a feeling I am sure many cowboys experienced before the fences.

My first night was off the road next to a stream where I shot a mallard for supper. Camping , hunting, beaching with our Lance Camper remind me of my days with unlimited expense accounts but only better. It had everything to make the adventure comfortable and hunting a pleasure. Of course it is my incredible Ford 7.3 crew cab dually that was the horsepower to carrying my backpack us from the Great Basin up to short-grass Prairie home to spectacular upland and incredible numbers of waterfowl and then onto the forest where wolves greet you with songs and the ruffed grouse flush like no other game bird. We would in 4 weeks,weather permitting, pull the plug in the North Country usually near the Pas or Flin Flon as winter came to Saskatchewan.

For the next several days I jump shot mallards and teal and chased Huns who managed to escaped the brutal winter. You must be self sufficient out here. There not no towns or accommodation for 70 miles and that is why the hunting is superb.

IT WAS HUNTING SEASON AND THE 2011 CAMPAIGN BEGAN BACK IN JANUARY

The stars has crossed in Nevada. The Reno Air Race, left me speechless. You shouldn't have 75 year old men playing with gravity and expect not to have tragedy. I wanted was to get going with my hunting companions fab English doubles guns and drive to the Prairies via Sun Valley and our place in Montana for some streamer fishing.

The early storm swept in quickly as I approached my favorite camp spot near Silver Creek, Id. My young pup was so excited to hit the ground when we arrived at our night site. My vetran, Fe was relieved and immediate went into her hunting mode. A quick whistle blast, as cup of mash and the canines were put away content. They were loving the snow anticipating the upcoming journey.By mid morning I crossed tho Montana. Henry's Lake looked inviting but I was on a mission.

I was on the Madison by two and had two massive hits that took me down stream and pings 4x like it was rubber. Switched to 3 x with a spruce fly and managed to land a hook jawed pre spawn male brown. I was looking for egg hungry rainbows and so I switched to an egghead without success until I went back to 4x. The Billy goat hovered over the river looking down at me as we managed to hook and land several more Madison River trout. I had enough time for a dram and some meat and potatoes.

SEEING TOM AND GERRI MORGAN

On a stormy Sunday several weeks ago on our way back from Bozeman I called Tom Morgan Rod Smiths http://www.troutrods.com/ to see if we could stop by for a visit and see some rods. Tom answered the phone and we chatted about mutual friends and our stays at El Western in Ennis when his parents built it the famous rest lodge. We shared memorable pools on Odell Creek and Tom said that is where he came up with the design for his TMF.

Tom suffering with acute MS was alert and commanding recalling the smallest details of our last visit. Gerri, a saintly woman, and Tom along with the cats live on the Norris ridge road overlooking "Uncle Ted Turners place," the valley bounded on the North by the Madison Range, and West by the Tobacco Roots.

Tom recalled moving Winston Rods to Twin Bridges from San Francisco and how he and Glenn Brackett decided to make Winston a the Hallmark for Western Fly fishing before the sport became part pf pop culture. Tom was fascinated with taper design and the concept of a progressive action and why the 2 piece 4 wt WF-TMF was still one of his favorite rods. We spoke of the Fisher brothers in depth and how he directed Joe to develop his taper when making the Winston's rods. Tom was always dedicated to design. He said he never could wrap as good as Glenn nor even close to Gerri Carlson who finishes Morgan Composite. He described his sale of Winston to a Southern Californian as bitter sweet

I had just finished taking several freshman MSU student from "back East" down the Madison on a drift as part of their welcoming to the West. All were equipped very fast action rods and hell bent on casting across the river to only to be thwarted by the numerous mini current endemic to pocket waters. When a trout did rise they pinged it often. I asked Tom why the emphasis on faster action and his response was simple and true. He said fast action skipped many important learning lessons as one could learn to fling a line quickly. Accuracy suffered and bad habits were hard to correct.

We spoke with Gerri about her trip to walking trip through Europe and her passion for printing. He rod building skills are superb. She is self publishing an almost bespoke Italian bounder book with her own print covering Tom stories and favorite flies. This edition will certainly become highly collectable and part of the Winston - Tom Morgan legacy. The winds were growing stronger and we felt driving in rain and hail might make the Bozeman pass a little shaky and so after an hour and half, good tea and small talk we were on our way feeling that time was important to Tom and Gerri Morgan and I was a tad jealous of not feeling so compelled with time

A DAY ON A WESTERN FLY FISHING RIVER

Day on the Western River:

6 a.m. Our 14 month old lab stirs below. Tess wants to get going. Outside it is nippy around 45 and the sun is not out above Quake Lake. Coffee espresso thanks to a Honda EU2000 and Tess exits her kennel like the super dog she is. She will be in fine form for our Canadian expedition this fall. I am anxious to try out my newly acquired Winston WF TMF 4 wt. with a Ross post 98 G1 DT XPS. I will fore go using my Beaverhead Cane Rods to give the composite a shot with PMD’s. I spent the afternoon visiting Tom Morgan and Gerri Carlson… will talk about later

7 a.m. run up to Cabin Creek for breakfast. Been doing this for the last 40 years on and off and the cheese omelets seem to get bigger. I miss the Williams back in the 60 and 70’s. Never could get Chuck in the 90’s to smile. Now Jim and Wendy the new owners are recovering from the health department shutdown last year. At least Jim is a serious fly tier. Even though it’s August, I see several giant Stoneflies.

8 a.m. Trout are rising along Quake’s shoreline probably gulping spruce moths.

9 a.m. On the Madison….Tom Morgan’s Favorite (TMF) is rigged and ready and with Tess at heel I cross over to the first pool near the willows to test the new old rod made in 1991 Tom’s last year at Winston. Second cast with a PMD and a 16 inch brown lying 12 inches from shore grabs the bug and the fight is electrifying. The 4 wt action handles the fish with authority and I am gladdened by the TMF.

11 a.m. Action is over for the morning. Get back and ready for the afternoon hopper float.

12 p.m. We hitch up the Koffler Rocky Mountain Trout Boat (RMT). This is an all-aluminum boat low profile with pedestal seats made in Oregon that has an almost occult following here in Montana. Compared to the Hyde’s and Clackacrafts it handles like a Ferrari. Last week, I had my whitewater expert oar this boat. He got us out of shallow water rather nicely. It was so sweet on the upper Missouri as well. We had a few takes on hoppers last week but hope this week will be different.

1 p.m. We put in and shuttle from Pine Bluff and will float and pop hoppers down to the Palisades.

2 p.m. We are into hopper heaven and have double hookups right after the Sun Ranch Bridge. All are browns until we the shady side and like magic all bows. Last week was the Whitlock patterns now it is stimulators size 14 on 6x. Last week we had a MSU student just out from New York. He was infected from all the magazine and fishing TV cartoon plugs over the years and decided to “Go West.” He couldn’t fight the fish as his very fast rod that cast a mile “pinged” the trout and with so many mini currents on the Madison he failed to get drift. We suggested a slower rod which he had a very difficult time casting but he will learn.

3 p.m. The wind is up and so is the hopper pop. We have hooked good fish within 2 feet of shore. We anchor and wade as the guide boat blow by having tgo get their clients down for the cocktail hour. We see few hookups on the “bumper boats.”

4 p.m. We arrive at the Palisades take out and back to the camp for a nap and ready for an evening fish.

6 p.m. The Bar B is fired up and we have corn on the cob, elk back straps, coarse greens cover with Newman Balsamic and a chilled White Zinfandel that opens nicely as the supper unfolds. I will fish with my friend in New Zealand next years for browns on the West Coast. He selects the wines

7 p.m. We are early for the spinners but I spend time with my new old Winston TMF. The more I cast the more enjoyable it becomes. I use a spinner pattern and cast across a pool with only a single tongue and a fine 17 inch bow sips the spinner and the splashing begins. Luckily I managed to keep the trout in the pool. If the trout had driven into the Madison current this 4 wt could not have controlled it. Luck was with the Irish that evening.

9 p.m. The action was fast and furious this evening. Many trout heads were sipping and hookups were almost anti climatic. I enjoy watching others follow lessons and get into serious dry fly action. Maybe this will cure them of “bobber nymph fishing.”

10 p.m. The action is over and back at camp a brief brandy, we count shooting stars and plan for tomorrow. Guess we’ll do it again. I hear the nighthawks buzz and the lights go out with the first cool mountain breeze