Fly Fish Chick

Okay, so we only saw two out of three on the river over Memorial Day. It was a straight-up, knock-it-back, hill country honkytonk holiday weekend. The trout were likely hunkered down low, shuddering in fear and mocking us all as we devolved into my favorite variety of the human species, The Hillbillius Redneckus.

Joke is on those snooty trout because it was a hell of a good time.

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Back in February I ventured down to Gruene to fish the Guadalupe and play with friends. Clear water, cold beer, hungry fish, lots of laughs.

It was a pretty great way to spend a day…

Yesterday was another great day in the Texas Hill Country. I fished the Guadalupe with a few friends, and we had an absolute blast. A front had moved in the night before so the fishing was a little off kilter at first. The wind stayed strong throughout the day, but when the sun eased up, the fishing really turned on for us.

All the credit goes to Banning who persevered through our dry spell and ended our team slump in a blaze of glory. Apparently when he starts to catch fish, there’s just no stopping him.

I had a couple of small connections, but at the end of the day I finally caught up with a fat & feisty rainbow that really gave me a run for my money. But eventually I got him all the way to the net and then merrily on his way.

Man, it was a nice fish.

Afterwards we grabbed the crew from Gruene Outfitters and walked over to Gruene Hall for some live honkytonk music and cold beer. We shared fishing stories and skinny dipping stories and basically laughed until we cried. All in all, it was a damn good way to spend a Tuesday…rainbow trout, plenty of sunshine, good people, Ernest Tubb cover songs, and Texas beer.

Somebody better pinch me.

The Guadalupe River, circa 1975. Between The Hunt Store and Crider’s.

The Guadalupe River, circa this past Monday morning. Between the alarm clock and my todo list.

I cannot tell a lie. I had to sneak away this morning and do a little fishing on the Guadalupe. Between flu bugs and birthday parties and bronchitis and thunderstorms, it’s been hard to find time on the water. So I decided to play hooky this morning – in the name of Presidents’ Day of course!

I think our forefathers would totally be okay with it. Based on the following quotations, they sound like fairly level-headed guys. Hell, they sound like fisherman.

“If I had eight hours to chop down a tree, I’d spend six hours sharpening my ax.” – Abraham Lincoln

This pretty much sums up my preparation for today’s fishing adventure. I spent all afternoon yesterday readying myself for a fast-break at the break of dawn this morning. I filled the car with gas. I went to Target and purchased a memory stick for my new digital camera. I charged the digital camera. Attached new leader to my fly line. Buckled down and put all my tippet in a new Ziploc. Lined up my waders and boots in the kitchen. Tidied up my gear bag which, although filled with trash, still had remnants of a price tag on it. Moved things around on the lanyard. Moved them back into place.

Then I’d say I fished for about an hour and a half.

“Be sure to put your feet in the right place, then stand firm.” — Abraham Lincoln

And wear good wading boots.

“He was incapable of fear, meeting personal dangers with the calmest unconcern.” — Thomas Jefferson describing George Washington

This also describes the one fish I hooked up with this morning. With complete calm and unconcern, the trout simply unhooked himself as if I’d greased the fly in butter, laughed at me over his shoulder, and swam away.

“It is better to offer no excuse than a bad one.” — George Washington

Yep, George was a fisherman, allright.

“Most folks are about as happy as they make their minds up to be.” — Abraham Lincoln

All I can say is I’m on cloud nine after my morning on the water.

“You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today.” – Abraham Lincoln

Hmmm, I suppose I violated this one. But couldn’t we argue that the act of fishing is not an act of evasion, but is actually quite essential? Certainly that’s not a revolutionary idea with this crowd.

Either way, when you start your Monday standing in the middle of a beautiful river and the sun is gleaming, the outlook is pretty bright.

Hail to the chiefs.

Back in the 1960’s executives at the Lone Star Brewery were no longer satisfied with simply stocking Hill Country bars with beer, so they began stocking The Guadalupe River with trout. I’ve heard it was a publicity campaign. I’ve also read that these were executives who liked to flyfish and simply wanted to be able to fish for trout in Texas. Of course I love this nationalistic mentality. In a war of passions, I’m not sure who’d win, Texans or flyfishermen. Texans love the great state of Texas as much as flyfisherman love a dead drift. In this case, the combination was a recipe for success because they created the southernmost trout fishery in the United States.

I’m no stranger to the Guadalupe. When I was a kiddo, my grandparents had a house right on the river. I spent summers swimming and tubing in the rapids among giant cypress trees dripping in Spanish moss. In college we’d race along the river road, hitting any and every honkytonk that would serve us beer. More recently than I care to admit, I went on a Guadalupe tubing adventure with a group of friends. Picture some 30 & 40-somethings, who are otherwise upstanding members of their communities and corporations, floating down the river with coolers of beer, sucking on jello shots and getting into aggressive singing competitions with fellow floaters. Of course we capsized dramatically, there was a bit of a theft from a campsite along the bank. I really shouldn’t go into details.

But what I can share is that I am having a mad love affair with the Guadalupe River. At each stage of my life, it just seems to offer me something new. These days it’s trout. I’ve had some fun wade-fishing outings, with moderate success. But I’ve long sensed that if I could just cover some water with a person who really knows it well, I could leap ahead to a whole new level with this river. Now normally I’m not a big fan of level-jumping in a relationship, but where the Guadalupe is concerned it was time to get a little more serious, make a commitment.

So I booked a guide.

Banning Collins guides in Texas in the winter and Montana in the summer. I really can’t say enough about Banning. Top notch guide with a wealth of experience and personality to spare. We met at the put-in, he already had his cataraft in the water so we popped on the river. I like to travel lean but he wisely suggested I bring my 5-wt and my 6-wt plus layers upon layers of clothes because it was ice-cold. I realize cold is a relative term, and that Texas winters are mild. But it was 30-some-odd degrees when we put on. The sun, however, was bright and the day sublime. Pristine water with deep pools that glowed a mesmerizing blue-green color. Those familiar trees leaned over from the edge, offering moss and mood. And the best part of all, I caught trout on the Guadalupe like never before. These hearty holdovers had been holding out on me.

Banning deserves all the credit of course, not just for putting me on the perfect spots, but really taking the time to explain how this river fishes differently than what I’m used to. I will be the first to admit, I have been spoiled rotten by the dry flies and big skies of Montana. But those boys from Lone Star were truly onto something. I mean, I was an hour away from my house on a gorgeous day in January, catching trout with some legitimate chunk and spunk to them. And they fought with a unique style. On my first take I was actually worried I’d foul-hooked the fish because it seemed to be coming at me sideways. But that 22 midge was on his lip right where it was supposed to be. Each fish did the same thing, sort of pitching to one side as it fought then making a good run right at the end.

And right to the end, it was a great day. It’s hard to distill all the intangible highlights into words, but let’s just say once again the Guadalupe was there for me. All those freshwater takes gave me a fresh take on a river I’ve known my entire life. And I’m rejuvenated to see how much more there is to discover.

Once back in Austin, I decided to top off my flyfishing adventure with live music at Atone’s. Truthfully I was already pretty hopped-up on the highs of catching Texas trout, but of course I had to celebrate with some Lone Star too. And I can say, now more than ever, I am proud to call it ‘The National Beer of Texas’.