Category Archives: Favorite Fly Fishing Spots

Pink Things and Goodoo Gurglers

Guest Blogger: Mike Cline, Bozeman, Montana

Last October I gave a presentation at our local TU Chapter on a different type of kayak fishing—Fishing the Last Mile First. This year I’ve been asked to talk about our 2017 trip to Australia. I am not sure that the program chair asked me because I am a good speaker, or he just needs to fill a slot. So, this year in October I’ll be giving my perspective on fly fishing for trout in Australia. As I’ve pieced together the skeleton of a presentation, I wish I had taken far more photographs than I did. Despite clearly not being any kind of expert on Australian trout fishing, talking about my fly fishing experiences in Victoria and Tasmania isn’t all that challenging. We tossed out a few different flies and caught fish in rivers and lakes that are much different than those I am used to. As I wrote about several times in this blog, fly fishing for trout in Australia isn’t all that different than here in the U.S. except that the trout swim on the left side of the river instead of the right. more…

‘Visiting’ With J. Stockard

A note from James Stockard Vick

We just returned from a vacation in Canada (the ‘Muskokas’ to those who know Canadian cottage country). We were staying at ‘The Eyrie’ a log cabin on Lake of Bays built in the 1930’s by my grandfather, Joel Stockard, the namesake of J Stockard Fly Fishing.  I now share the place with five of my siblings and cousins and manage to visit every summer.

Joel was originally a stock broker in Detroit. He went bust in the crash of 1929 but was lucky to have a wife with a small trust fund. That fund allowed him to purchase a gorgeous spot on Lake of Bays for $600!

Spending every summer there throughout the 1930’s, 40’s and 50’s, Joel was an equal opportunity outdoorsman…hunting, hiking, boating and fishing of all kinds. The place is still filled with his wading sticks, bamboo rods, old reels and other gear. Every child who arrives at the Eyrie learns to skipper a ‘boat’ using Joel’s Putt-Putt, his fishing canoe with its 3-horsepower motor!

This year we had fantastic weather and water temperatures in the mid-70’s. It was a week of relaxing, kayaking and bathing in the lake.

As far as fishing goes, during the summer, the lake is generally populated by disappointed trollers on the prowl for lake trout and smallmouth bass. We mainly watch from The Point!

Down Channel

Guest Blogger: Michael Vorhis, author of ARCHANGEL suspense thriller, OPEN DISTANCE adventure thriller & more to come

Pre-dawn, but the gate had been left open…and the hatchery gate was too, so I parked up near there and walked through, arriving at the river’s edge as high as a person is allowed–any further and I’d be in the dam release zone. The sky was brightening but I’d beaten the sun to the water by 20 minutes. The 5-weight 9-foot rod I’d made for myself the previous winter balanced nicely in my hand, flexing a little like I imagined a split bamboo classic might flex. I tied a little cased caddis worm of my own tie onto the 6x tippet and stepped in. Cold water drew a shiver right through the waders, but I knew the early June chill would soon dissipate.

Figure 1 — Headwater

A narrow tongue of swift flow needed crossing if I was to get to more comfortably wadable water, and that required some care. Below it was a hole six feet deep and a bit of a haystack standing wave atop it; I did not want to take a swim through that. I had no wading staff but made a mental note to buy one someday, hoping that commitment would be sufficient to save me on this morning. Shuffle one foot, then the other; keep as thin to the current as a man’s profile would allow…inches at a time…don’t lunge…almost across. To free up my arms for better balance, I got rid of the leader between my fingers by casting the fly up ahead of me, into a shallow pour-over against a little shoal. The loose end wouldn’t distract me now…shuffle again, and…uh…BUMP BUMP! Of all the…some early morning trout trying to interrupt my concentration here with a take on my fly! I did the right thing by allowing myself to miss the take, instead focusing on finding a surer foothold. My path shallowed and I climbed onto a gravel bank, now only ankle deep, past the danger. I stood at the edge of the shoal over which I had just cast. more…