Do it yourself bones, Jacks vs. Permit, Indonesia, a useful sunglass primer and a well played look at the economics of fly fishing. Read.

Kudos to the Fly Fish Bone Head gang.



Raising cash for the Craig Volunteer Fire Department and having a spot of fun in the process. Donations welcome. Be there or be square.

Website. Facebook.


The Last Frontiers – Outdoors.direct films from Outdoors.direct on Vimeo.


Casting Sink Tips with Dec Hogan from Rajeff Sports on Vimeo.



A sweet build and the obligatory PBR. Well played. Via Wooden Boat People.



New Year’s resolve to eat a bit more like a caveman (translate healthier with a decided bent toward paleo) in 2015 has been bolstered around our camp by some rather sobering recent news. (Shit happens, but that’s another story for perhaps yet another day.)

Decided benefits to eating healthier happen to include She Who Must Be Obeyed and I truthfully feeling better than we have in years and the pounds have been peeling off consistently.

Staring at a roast chicken ready to bone and trim last weekend I had a flash back to a tropically inspired curry chicken salad we first had with friends from SLC while up for a family float and fish on the South Fork of the Snake in Idaho a few years back.

Remembered details were sketchy but sweet curry punctuated with grapes and mango came to mind, with a bit of savory onion and crunchy celery thrown in for good measure.

The damned recipe was no where to be found, though with a bit of luck the nudge to look in trip journals from those years popped to mind, and sure enough, there tucked away was the barely legible recipe for this Tropical Curry Chicken Salad.

This is of course a basic framework to build from; chicken salads really clamor for a ‘use what you’ve got approach’ – we often throw a handful of other stuff in here, like a can of slivered water chestnuts, a drained jar of pimento or a chopped bell pepper.

The curry adds a nice spin different from most chicken salads though pending how hot be your curry you may want to add a touch of more piquant heat; the honey and fruit tone things down in a balanced way.

Another one that very well may end up in your regular rotation.

1 1/2 lb boneless chicken, roasted, grilled or poached; cooled and chopped
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1/3 cup plain yogurt
1 tbsp. curry powder
1 tbsp. fresh lime juice
1 tbsp. honey
1/2 to 1 tsp. chile flakes
3/4 tsp. ground ginger
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. black pepper
1 medium red onion, chopped
1 cup crisp celery, chopped
1 firm (but ripe!) mango or peach, peeled, pitted, and chopped
1 cup red or green seedless grapes, halved (you may want more)

Optional: 1/2 cup of chopped roasted salted cashews

Chicken wisdom – whatever approach you choose for the chicken here, make sure it’s just cooked and not dried out. Poaching makes for an uber-tender and juicy chicken breast, though we usually grill these or roast a second chicken when cooking one for dinner.

Spice it up. In a large bowl whisk together the mayonnaise, yogurt, curry powder, lime juice, honey, chile flakes, ground ginger, salt and pepper.

Stir it together. Now stir in the chicken, onion, celery, mango and grapes; top with the cashews just before serving or they can get a bit soggy. Wrap it, sandwich it, or eat off a bed of lettuce – this one is good any way you want to go.



Mad Mike's Craft Fur Mullet from Shane Clevenger on Vimeo.




Upon the realization I’ve had the very good fortune to have consumed various alcoholic beverages with a wide range of pretty diverse people in a bunch of random places, I’ve been allowed to hijack this week’s Thirsty Thursday.

The recipe may be simple, but realize that sometimes in the oddest of places, everything just tastes a little clearer, and sometimes all the “fluff” in your drink just isn’t necessary. With that in mind, let’s trek to the tundra.


“Sok!” Alexei cried happily as the utility vehicle pulled up, fresh from the helicopter landing pad at the top of the bluff and brimming with the week’s supply shipment. It had been a drizzly, dreary, cold spring day on the Ponoi and the clouds were just lifting in advance of the evening meal. The guides were back from the river, still clad in their waders and Buffs, standing nearby to help shuffle the sundries into the small kitchen area. Stubborn, thick mud clung to our boots, creating rather comical slides as we hauled the groceries to the safety of the wooden-floored storage area.

I was slowly learning enough Russian to realize Alexei was shouting about juice, though how or why was a different matter. Food was carefully allotted week-to-week, and when he turned around, two cases packed with boxes of juice in his arms, I realized somehow we’d received double the orange juice shipment.

It would be lying to say there was not a minor moment of celebration.

Later that night, the shipment stored away, the Mi-8 flown back off to Murmansk, and the guests fed and set up into a jovial game of poker in the Big Tent, we pirated a few boxes of orange juice, a thermos of ice, and two bottles of Kalashnikov. The latter was the staff vodka, which—to my uneducated tastes—tasted better than the more expensive Russian Standard, reserved for guests only.


It was still mucky on the little dirt path between housing shacks, but we rejoiced in our tall rubber boots and the creation of Screwdrivers. Spring was well on its way, and at our little outpost above the Arctic Circle the sun refused to set, the light waning to an otherworldly pinkish-orange tint that can only be described as a photographer’s dream light. As the night shifted on, more staff joined, a few guests meandered out, and somehow the vodka bottles and juice multiplied. There was a nightclub-worthy dance off. A near fistfight. A voluminous pink wig that somehow came out of nowhere and made the rounds for photographs. And a lot of laughter.

And all because of a little extra juice and a whole lot of vodka.

The recipe, I rather hate to pen down, since it fluxed throughout the night as varying bottles and boxes of vodka and juice ran low. Suffice to say the original ratio of one-to-four vodka-juice did not last long, and when the juice ran out around 0100h, the vodka kept coming. If you are a bit less lethally inclined and don’t happen to be at an impromptu tundra party with a bunch of fishing guides, I’d recommend the following:

1 1/2 oz. good vodka
6 oz. orange juice

Mix over ice. Drink. Repeat.

Go catch fish.



Wyoming Fly Fishing – Ending from Denverpictureguy on Vimeo.



You’ve been watching him for ten minutes now.  He’s over there, on the far side of the seam.  It’s a long cast, not accounting for the drag from the current.  You won’t get a very long drift over there.

What’s he eating?  You watch him eat a couple more times.  Oh yeah, you’ve got some of those in the box.  You carefully tie one on and creep up a little closer.  Just need to see him one more time…

There he is.  A couple of false casts and you should have just enough line out.  Damn, too short.  You pick up, add a little extra, and lay it back down.  Throw a good mend in there.  There we go, that’s right where he should be.

As if in slow motion, you watch that big, beautiful nose appear from the depths around your fly.  The world slows down as you wait to set.  Wait for it, wait for it.. God save the Queen..  Those jaws slowly close around your fly and you set.

Got him.



TEMPEST VERMILION from Sunchaser Pictures on Vimeo.

Love the Canyon Country.


Denver-PL-Rally-350DSAs has already transpired in several neighboring Rocky Mountain states, Colorado will host a Public Lands Rally on the Capitol Steps tomorrow at noon.

As has been the routine so far, there are some heavy hitter conservation and advocacy groups (TU, TRCP, Backcountry Hunters and Anglers and others) hoping to round up the troops and make a strong showing.

(By the way, the Greenbacks are hosting a post-rally early happy hour at Stoney’s Bar and Grill starting at 2 after the rally.)

I was at an event last night in Alabama and the topic of public lands actually came up in a discussion with a ‘gentleman’ there. As is often the case, spending his entire 60ish years living in the South he really didn’t understand what vast blocks of public land accessible by everyone truly means.

He went on to decry ‘all the hubbub’ over public lands in the West and, at the point I ended our conversation with a simple and polite declaration that he was full of sh*t, said that all the rallies and ‘whining’ were a waste of time.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

While the issue is far more complex than simply stating that evil corporate interests are after Western lands to rape and pillage (a position espoused by some of the more extremist groups out there), we continue to stand with those calling for preserving public lands intact for all Americans.

(It’s about time somebody actually drilled down and told the truth, in detail, about the public lands debate; we haven’t seen both sides of the argument laid out in a cogent presentation yet. I have a feeling that would crystalize the issue – on the side of preservation – for those still sitting on the fence or who might not have a dog in the fight so to speak…)

The weather tomorrow in Denver sounds about perfect for this time of year – a springlike 38 with snow showers after 2.

Get ‘er done Colorado.

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Streamer Time

by Jake McGlothlin on February 24, 2015

in Flies

After a couple of months of tying swing flies and nymphs, last night at the weekly Open Tie Night at the Bozeman Angler I decided to tie some meat.  Big, nasty, meaty streamers.  The big stuff is always fun to tie, and it offers you a lot of room to be creative.  Tying streamers also goes hand in hand with listening to classic rock and drinking whiskey.


It’s also fun to tie the big stuff with people who really know what they’re doing.  Everyone at the shop last night is a pretty good tier, especially when it comes to streamers.  It’s always helpful to be able to bounce ideas off of people, get advice, and even some praise when you hand someone a finished fly.


Now to just get out on the water and fish these…