Articles

When you spend a lot of time in fly fishing circles, being a greenhorn on the oars makes you a bit of a pariah. Or, at least, it makes you feel like one. Amongst avid anglers or industry folk, there exists an assumption that you know what you’re doing around boats. Oars, ropes, anchors and so on and what to do with them is treated as instinctive knowledge, leaving those that lack it on the outside.

Count me amongst the drift boat hayseeds. It’s not that I’m perplexed by boats, I just didn’t grow up around them. Sure, I’ve rowed john boats on bass ponds, paddled canoes and kayaked a bit, but none of that does anything to prepare you for handling a 4-500 lb. drift boat in heavy current.

Here in East, where drift boats don’t dot every driveway, this less of an offense. Even in trouty Pennsylvania, the closest driftable trout river to me is ninety minutes away, and the next one after that is another ninety. Given that the vast majority of our trout fishing is done on foot, lacking the capacity to handle a boat hasn’t meant missing all that much water.

The annual Fly Fishing Film Tour (F3T) kicked off earlier this week in Denver, Colorado. The tour has since moved on to Montana, with a showing last night at Bozeman's Emerson Theater and continues this week with screenings in Billings, Helena and Missoula. 160 cities later, the tour will conclude on April 30th in Austin, Texas.

This year's F3T selections includes films like Co2ld Waters, which stars Craig Matthews and Yvon Chouinard, amongst others and takes a look at the single biggest threat facing the future of angling: climate change. 90 Miles, which tells the story of Cuba's bonefish, tarpon and permit fishery -- a topic hot on the minds of many anglers these days -- seen through the eyes of a Bonefish Tarpon and Trust scientific outreach mission in 2013.

Colorado's Roan Plateau, the site of a collaborative agreement between conservation groups, including TU, and the oil and gas industry. The Bill Barrett Co.--the natural gas lease holder on the Roan--is donating $500,000 to TU and its conservation partners over the next several years for cutthroat trout recovery efforts on the plateau.

It would appear that the energy and extraction industries are getting tired of the burgeoning influence sportsmen and women are wielding these days in the conservation arena, and they’re spending some money on a clandestine effort to besmirch a handful of nonprofit organizations that help give anglers and hunters a voice in today’s pivotal conservation debate.

And it’s pretty sleazy, honestly.

Since last spring, a slew of letters to the editor to dozens of small to mid-sized daily newspapers around the country has appeared from a single author -- one Will Coggin -- describing some of the most influential sportsmen’s conservation groups as left-wing fronts that take money from anti-industry foundations and use that money to stifle everything from natural gas fracking to hard-rock mining.

Fly fishers might be the ultimate explorers, and not just when it comes to unearthing new species of far-flung fish to target. Exploring can take place without leaving the country… or even the county, and without even turning over a new piece of fishy real estate. Instead, “exploring” can be better described under a banner of pride--”I’ll figure this place out if it kills me.”

Fly fishers can be like those uber-handy homeowners who can’t stand the idea of calling in a plumber or an electrician, even if if would make more sense to do so. Instead, they’ll pick up the parts at the hardware store and, if they think they’ll need it, a book on the topic.

And off we go.

The home flat

Few things are like having a bonefish flat right outside your window
Bonefish tail on the home flat (photo: Chad Shmukler).

The sun begins to shine through the two foot gap I’ve left in our cabana’s curtains somewhere around 6 am. For the first time in months, sleeping in is an option. At least an option. Breakfast is at 7:00 and our guide, Daniel, will be ready by 7:30, but he’s gone out of his way to let us know he’s moving on our schedule — and so the opportunity to catch another hour or two of rest before hitting the flats is there, even if it’s one we’re decidedly unlikely to seize.

Pages