I actually caught a rainbow trout on a fly fishing trip way back in about naught six I think. Did I actually land that fish? The memory isn’t real clear.

Yes, I talk big and travel long distances to the most beautiful and breathtaking white water rivers on God’s earth! I really do! But actually catching fish? Well, that’s a different story. Such is the dilemma of this fly caster. And it would be a sad story except that there is never anything sad about fly fishing. There just isn’t.

Wonders never cease though! Last week, after Katherine finally threw me out of the house, I loaded up with the absolute bare necessities for any fly caster ; fried chicken, Cheetos and, of course, Dr Pepper, and rolled on up to the Lower Mountain Fork River. Oh—-and I took my fly rod too!

Conditions on the river were as perfect as they ever get. The magnificent stream was picturesque with manageable and wadeable white water rapids and pooling along the banks that typically harbor trout. The temperature was a perfect 62 degrees. The sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Amazing! Hey! I deserved this! I donned my waders, ate a piece of fried chicken(the chicken grease attracts trout) munched a couple of Cheetos and polished off a Dr Pepper. I then began my hike down Heart Attack Hill to the trail that would lead to my secret spot. I have come to call my secret spot Palo Gaucho. The meaning of Palo Gaucho is a secret as well. There is, after all, some mystery in fly casting.

Either way, when I finally arrived at Palo Gaucho it was occupied by two fly casting freaks wearing enough fly fishing gear to fill the Bozeman Montana Fly Shop. Vests, backpacks, sidepacks, fanny packs, sling packs, tippet rollers, and some of the stupidest looking hats that looked like they were straight out of Orvis Magazine.

Let me tell you something—-there is nothing worse than having your fishing hole occupied by two fly casting snobs wearing stupid hats. Once I was down stream a ways I picked up their scent. It was the smell of confused corporate executives, most of whom think fly fishing is an art or a sport or something else besides what it is——a pole, a line and a hook which, hopefully, will catch fish. They smoke expensive cigars and sip designer whiskey from their “favorite distillery.” They refer to themselves as “tactical fishermen” and “purists” which feeds into their confusion. They utilize things like trout stomach pumps to see what the trout are eating and select flies that mimic the stomach contents, forgetting that they just caught a fish. Maybe, just maybe, they should continue to use that fly. (Useless trout stomach pump pictured below.) They didn’t catch a single fish. I watched them leave, ate another piece of fried chicken and took out a stringer of nice three pound rainbows!

These execs’ could use a few of my fly fishing tips. Here are a few: In my experience the best way to find fish and find success in fly fishing is to have a seat on a rock near the water, have a piece of fried chicken (Gasquatch, a convenience store near Broken Bow has the best fried chicken) and sip on a Dr. Pepper while looking for fish in the water. Polarized sunglasses will help you see them. If you don’t have any polarized sunglasses, get some. The cheap ones work just as well a the expensive ones. You will be able to see the fish. If they’re not there, go to a different location on the river. It’s just that simple. Then, when you find them, fish with a woolly bugger or a streamer. The Clouser Minnow is one of the best streamers on the market. There are really cheap imitators. Streamers have a high success rate anywhere in the world. Have on hand a variety of woolly buggers too. Black and olive are nearly always successful. Forget about “the hatch” and all of that scientific crap. You will catch fish on streamers and woolly buggers. And if you don’t, just remember, there are no bad fly fishing trips. Not ever.

And as to the intro to this story where I joke about rare success catching fish——-there are those trips when I don’t catch a dang thing. Trips like that are actually rare. By the way, I took home four, three pound rainbows on this particular trip.

Remember, the next time you go fishing, pick up some trash and be a part of the solution.