The FayClave Returns...

Has it really been five years?  This weekend commences the 5th annual Fay Clave in, this time in honor of OMR's 75th birthday.

Again we'll be on the lower Clearwater in hopes of meeting a few fish, and celebrating a guy who keeps on trucking, paying no attention to creaky bones and hearing loss.

What excites me the most is the quick and deep progression into steelhead rabbit hole we have all fallen.  We picked up the spey rods 6 years ago with nary a clue.  Now look at us and we're full on steelhead dirtbags.

So if you're on the river this weekend, come share a story and a beer.  We'll be happy to have you.

Thanks Dad...

For being my role model throughout my life

also for.....

Telling me hunting fishing stories every night when I was very young.  I was spellbound and remember ever story from Shocktaw Ridge

Taking me on the Salmon River when I was 9.  That overnight rafting trip was special, I saw my first shooting star and I was convinced ever rock that my mepps spinner hit was a fish.

Being my chauffeur to a million and a half soccer, baseball and basketball practice, including the horrific 6am weight lifting classes my freshman year in high school.

Being there for all my outdoor firsts, including that great and special moment when those two mulies came running down the treeline and we tagged out together.  Buck fever be damned!

Not laughing as I missed about 400 grouse when I was 13 on Rodgers Peak.  Now that was a terrible display of shooting, considering I dont think I had ever seen you miss....ever.

For telling me before every one of my baseball games when I was the starting pitcher to have fun. Just have fun.  Also for talking shit to the opposing parents.  It was hard not to laugh from the mound

Walleye fishing on Lake Roosevelt, trolling for Macs at the cabin, running down pheasants on the Palouse, adventures in deer hunting

That trip to Fernie was amazing.  Catching that first fish on the fly rod and that was that.

Being ready to roll anytime.  Drive 22 hours to the Skeena, fish the Snake in 32 degree water temps, old age be damned.

For teaching me a few tricks in advertising, even if your the last human alive who survives via fax.

I take great pride in watching the faces of my friends as they are amazed at your ability to catch fish. Getting out-fished by OMR is just normal to me.

Most of all, thanks Dad....happy father's day!

You Cant Spit That Far....

"Thanks for moving in on my casting range, hell I can spit that far"

It's well and good that OMR couldnt hear the ass clown who felt that his rights were infringed upon.   Apparently being half deaf is good everyone once and a while, helps to avoid confrontation.

After a long day on the lake, we were all headed back to camp for cocktail hour and a few of us pulled over on a shoal near the get out to catch a few more fish.

Now to set the scene, the first guy on the lake early that morning was a guy in a drift boat.  He rowed out about 30 yards from camp, dropped two anchors and then sat there, all day,  fishing chronomids.

All.  Damn. Day.

Granted he was dialed.  Like rod bent ever 15 minutes dialed.   But seriously, all day, same spot?

That same spot he was in was the same one we tried to fish at the end of the day.   Fishing on this particular lake isnt competitive, it's usually cordial.  Information is shared, you talk to most you go by, you cheer for people getting into fish.

OMR hooks into a nice fish and I jokingly said to the spot camper, "hey, look at this horse shit" in reference to my dad always catching fish

Then Captain Passive Aggressive  takes offense at our "closeness" and utters his line from above.

Fast forward a few hours and whiskey's later,  we tell OMR what the guy said.

20 minutes later, OMR is gone.  I walk to the bathroom and I notice that my dad has found the offending parties camp, and super aggressive dad has shown up.

Oh no....this is what I hear,

"Damn it, I'm 74 years old.  I bought my license and I can fish where ever I damn where please on this lake.........and another thing....YOU CANT SPIT THAT FAR"

With that, he left their camp.  The OMR equivalent of dropping the mic.

Boom goes the dynamite.

Things More Interesting Than Fishing...

A couple hours at a local lake and a long list of things more interesting than fishing were discovered by Big C

Rocks, more rocks, throwing of rocks, sticks, breaking sticks, throwing sticks, trails, weeds that look like lettuce, bugs, smooshing the bugs, cows, cow poop.

Climbing rocks, pinecones, throwing pinecones at OMR and into the lake, ducks, birds, all the birds, seaweed, fire-rings, mysterious trash, old bottle caps, deer poop and a loose duck feather.

That's 24 things more interesting than hooking a fish.

It didnt matter, three generations of Mills boys standing near a lake and having a good time.  The fish and fishing will come in good time.   The quality time was and is unsurpassed in it's importance

Mr Rabbit Out of Hat....

It's not even weird anymore, you just come to expect it.

On the days when catching is at a premium, OMR goes all magician and catches the only steelhead of the day

As our season draws to a close, this day on the water was likely my last day for this run of fish.  I had two come unpinned earlier in the day and our buddy landed a monster bull trout that made his day, but alas none of the targeted quarry had come to hand

So to the last run of the day, and it was no surprise that Mr Houdini absolutely picks my pocket and brought this lady to hand.  I'm not even mad or surprised, I just smile and know that some dudes just have more juice than others

Thankfully, that dude's my dad.

Other Priorities

Kids and Steelhead change priorities.

Growing up, ditch parrots were my driving passion.   Now, there's so little time and so many other responsibilities that it's tough to choose when steelhead are in the drivers seat.

This upland season I carried the scattergun on 2 days afield.  Almost embarrassing.

The first day was cold beyond cold.  So cold that I wiffed on two absolute gimmees, shots I've made in my sleep since I was 12.   Thankfully I found a willing pheasant to close the day to save some of my pride.   Miss the easy shots, smash the hard ones.  Go figure.

January 11th marked the final day of the season in the state of Washington, and we walked the familiar fields that we have for over 20 years.  The birds were scarce as they are at the end of the season, but for some reason luck was on my side

Wild roosters on the last day of the season are worth their weight in gold.  2 graced my game vest and I fell in love with these upland birds all over again

Priorities may change, but first loves are never forgotten.

Operation Venison Extraction

You cant tell a 74 year old deer hunter to stop hunting by himself, but you can tell him that if he get's a deer to call you to drag it out.

"Got One!"

That's all it took to know that this particular Monday night would involve a hell of a lot of work

I was almost home when I got the call that OMR had a buck down.  Within 10 minutes, Big C was scooped up with an on-the-go dinner and we were headed northward to help with venison retrieval.

His face said he was tired, but happy and proud non the less.  An experience with heat stroke early in hunting season made him realize that he couldn't do what he once thought nothing of,  but this buck's death reaffirmed and reacquired his mojo.

We set out to the deer, 3 generations of Mills boys with flashlights lighting the way.   Concerned grandmothers and moms weren't quite sure it was a good idea to bring a boy just shy of 4 into the deep dark woods to help drag the deer out.  I couldnt think of anything  better.   My childhood was full of times like this and I count not deny my oldest boy the same.

He took to the trail with excitement and wonder.  He held the hand of "Poppa Fay" and was a continual stream of questions that grandpa was happy to answer.

We reached the deer and  my son's wonderment reached next level.  I looked at the deer with resignation and said "shit"

It was a damn fine deer, a damn heavy big bodied mature deer.

We were almost a mile back in the woods when I put a rope on the antlers and began the drag.  Each successive hogback and small ridge made the deer a couple pounds heavier.   The fall pine needle drop made going uphill like skating on ice at times.  We made progress and  let's say that crossfit has nothing on this particular workout.

The last field was reached and OMR joined the push to the truck, dragging the deer with me.  It was a happy, proud and tiring moment.  Three boys on an adventure.  One just starting his outdoor experiences, one in the middle and one nearing his eventual end afield by himself.

The tailgate slammed in my truck and the job was complete.  Big C was asleep 5 minutes after we hit the road, and OMR was a happy hunter.

I was tired as I could get, but the experience of operation venison extraction was just plain awesome.

A 3 Year Old In The Grouse Woods...

September 1st hits and it gives us the opportunity to walk old logging roads for forrest chickens.

Bringing a 3 year old into the grouse woods is awesome.  You get to see the hunt through their eyes, and Big C was into it.  The grasshoppers, the rouge sticks on the road that must be thrown, bird noises...you know, soaking it all in

We didnt have the greatest hope, as it was mid day and pretty dry conditions, but we found a road with a creek next to it and one bird exposed itself .

OMR held Carson back and I did the duty.  The dogs dropped down the ridge, found the ruff and returned it to us.

High fives and excited inspection by the boy brought big smiles to all around.  I was so excited to be there with him as he experienced the hunt as I had at his age 30 years before.

Five minutes later, I turn around to see Big C in full pout mode.  Shocked, I inquired to see what the issue was.

"Not fair, you and Poppa Fay have your own gun, I don't.  I want my own gun"

After  a quick chuckle and explanation that 3 years old don't have their own guns.  Maybe a bb gun in a few years.

But to be honest,  I couldn't be prouder.

Bass On A String..

Hey, OMR caught you a delicious bass....

Mills boys....

There's something special about a grandpa dropping a little fishing knowledge in the ear of your first born son.

Settling a 3 year old down at a newly discovered urban pond is next level impossible,  but each time a fish was hooked he bolted over and wanted to "weel it in"

OMR and I gladly obliged.

33 Degrees And Dotting The Sky

All week, the temps on the big river dropped a degree a day.

Shit.

From a snappy 38 to a frigid 33.

Shit.

You've heard it all before.  Dont bother swinging for steelhead when the temps drop in the range between frozen toes and tingling hands.  Well that's all fine and true, especially when you dont go.

Well here's a little tip........

Keep fishing.   Good things happen

OMR hooked this gigantic late season hen with water hovering above freezing.  I came around the corner of the run he was in to investigate his cries of "fish on" just in time to see the fish dot the sky with a 2 foot jump.

Even at 33 degrees, they'll still hunt the fly down and take you for a ride.

Riverside Spey Summit...

"No, seriously....the fish jumped 9 times and then snapped me off"

Sure it did, sure.

OMR holding court on the Big River.  No BS is ever spoken there.  Nooooooo way.

Sunlight and Shadow...

I'll just let the picture do the talking here.

Unabated Thievery...

I hooked and landed the first fish of the day.

Decorum gives OMR the jump on each new piece of water until his line goes tight.

Of course, that takes about 2 casts in the next run....

Returning the favor, OMR jumped back in line

The rest of the day, he picked my pocket 4 times.

I'd like to say I was mad about it.....but the truth is, I couldnt be happier.

Getting Bent On Your Birthday....

For the 4th year in a row, OMR got bent for his birthday at the Fay Clave

Perfect Water.  Dryline.  Blown up.

No more than 2 casts before the hook up, I say to my buddy Ryan..."damn, I hope he gets his fish and keeps his birthday streak alive"

And it happened.

We all should be so lucky.

Basic Elements....Steelhead Edition.

Fish On.  That's all.  Basic as it gets.  But the picture tells the story so well.

OMR Rings The Bell...

OMR kicks off his 2013 steelhead season with this little guy.  No matter the size, it's always a spectacular feeling to get on the board and get the monkey off your back.

Dryline season is awesome.

Can't Find These In A Cubicle....

You cant find these beauties in the office.  

Go do what OMR's doing well, and that's getting busy living.

Today.

OMR's River Taxi

A little assistance never hurt anyone in a tricky river crossing.  Even OMR.

Picture Of The Year...

When I look back on 2012 and the year we had, from a fishing perspective, this is the photo that will have defined the year.

Another year to share with OMR and our friends.  Another year of early wake up calls, monosyllabic grunts and talks as we sped towards our water of choice and hoots and hollers as someone in the crew hooked up

Our trip to the Skeena system left us wanting more and a desire to come back.  The people and the land left an indelible mark on us forever.

Our year was fun, filled with amazing stories, hilarious bloopers and a few other happenings that probably should stay out of the written word to protect the innocent. haha!

So why is this the picture of the year?

It showcases the bond between my father and I.  It shows how much we're willing to go to fish for these ocean runs.

More than anything, look at this fish.....a perfect specimen.  Cleaner than clean with perfect angular fins that show that this fish is wild born and bread.  Also, this is a monster for the river it was caught on.  They dont get much bigger in this system.

My only regret is that I didnt catch it, OMR did.  On the swing.  In 37 degree water.

I will gladly play the role of gille any day

Merry Christmas to you and yours.