Hey Guys!

Welcome to the 25th Issue of Guys Fishing Weekly!

Thanks for spending even just a little of your week with us. We are grateful for you!

Enjoy,

- The GFW Boys

This past summer we were in Montrose, CO, home of the National Park known as the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. It is an awe aspiring sight, with canyons as deep as 2,250 feet carved out by the Gunnison River. Getting down to most of the river is no small feat, as down the cliff face is your only option for the majority of the river. After seeing the canyons, I am confident that wasn’t going to work for me on one morning of fishing.

But luckily, the NPS built a road down to the bottom just for fisherman. Sure they got the side benefit of being able to service the dam that provides electricity and storage of water for thousands of Americans, but we know why the really needed a road: so we could all catch some fat rainbows.

Needless to say, this has always been a bucket list fishing endeavor for me. Tales of massive rainbows and browns on this Gold Medal water are woven into the lexicon of Colorado fly fishing lore.

So since I was in town for 36 hours, I was going to shoot my shot.

I made a plan with my wife that I was just going to fish for the morning (spoiler: I stuck to my deadline; this writing isn’t about that), and be back for lunch. I would hit the road by 7am and be in the water by 7:30.

Now the night prior I went to the local fly shop to get geared up and buy a smattering of flies. The shop attendant told me the flows were high, so getting deep was critical. And nymphs were my best bet. Not my picturesque image of a good time, but I am shootin’ my shot, remember?

So I loaded up on squirmy wormies, psycho nymphs and stone fly emerger patterns. And by loaded up, I mean 2 dozen. And good thing too, because flashback to this morning in the canyon, I was about to snap some shit off.

I rigged up a three nymph dropper set up, and a AAA weight. By golly I was going to get this food down to the fish.

I then made my descent from the pull off down to the river. From this parking spot it was probably 40 feet down. On any other river, this would have been a “no big deal” descent. But here they should call it scree canyon, because climbing all that gravelly rock about swallowed me in the river. And when you get to the water, the scree just keeps going, leaving you with basically nothing to stand on.

I found a spot no wider than a gymnastic balance beam, got settled and prepared my three nymph, fish-seeking missle.

Second cast, no joke, snagged on the bottom… tug… Tug… TUG… ping. Snapped off.

Ok no big deal, I am new here and this is the price of admission. Rig it up again.

Six casts later, snagged on the bottom. Probably the same spot. Definitely the same result.

Now since I am an honest fisherman, and writer, I will tell you I learned my lesson… after parting with two more three-fly rigs, in the exact same spot, without moving but 10 feet in either direction. Yes, a dozen flies on the bottom of the Gunny in about 25 minutes.

“Screw this place. I hate this type of fishing from a big river bank. This was dumb. Just climb my sorry ass out of this gigantic cliff hole and go home.” This was the rhetoric the whole way out of that pull off on the river.

I sat for five minutes in the car, ate a granola bar, and sulked. I put the truck in drive, and headed to the canyon exit.

The fly shop attendant was right, the river flow was high. This section of river which usually has fishable structure was just a flat flowing lake. Occasionally there was a wisp of grass, which at normal flows would be that island structure you could fish along.

But not today.

I was going to be skunked by the Gunny, with 12 less flies, and be home before breakfast rather than lunch.

But then genius struck. What if I go down to this “primitive trail” on the map and hike in. No one ever hikes shit, so maybe that will help. I got to the trail head, hopped out a bit rejuvenated, and grabbed my gear.

At the trailhead there was a portion of the river where it expanded out of the main current and created this circulating eddy. The kind you know is holding a lot of feeding fish. And no one was there. Dibs again.

So I began to watch. And within seconds I saw feeding fish. Almost coming in packs of 4 or 5 and eating just below the surface. Ok, I still have half my nymph soldiers at the ready. So the 12 amigos and I headed to the river. I mean, who would need a dry fly on a day flowing like today?

But there was a hatch a brewing, and this hatch was stonefly. Big golden ones. Flying out of the water, grabbing on to you and anything else they could clutch. A July hatch of these bugs seemed strange, but maybe my price of admission had paid the fishing gods off after all.

No joke, these fish were all rising not more the 15 ft from the shore. A good running start, and a leap with my net would have probably nabbed one. Not a care in the world. So what does an expert fly fisherman such as myself go ahead and do on his first cast? Snagged and snapped off my nymph rig in a bush 15 feet behind me. Fug. Me.

Determined to keep the 12 amigos in tact, I begin to search the bush. In that exact moment, a fellow fly fisherman-in-arms, clearly not there to fish but rather go on a hike with his wife, pops his head over the brim of the parking lot.

“Are those stoneflies? Big golden ones?” he yelled down to me. To which I answered with an affirmative. “Holy crap, I got to get my rod.”

Just as I am finding another poor soul’s rig tangled in the bush (I guess that will do, strangely it was also a 3 fly rig… 12 amigos-ish), this guy comes and saddles up 15 feet left of me to fish in my eddy.

Now confrontation isn’t my thing, and all I care about is getting my fly line on the water. So I start rigging up as fast as I can. Fumbling fingers and anxiety at the max. Without my dry flies, I tie what I got… nymphs.

Almost immediately, “Bro next door” hooks into a rainbow.

Ok now I am pissed. I have broken off 15 flies, replaced 3 and hiked a grueling cliff face. Then this guy catches fish out of my hole.

Stay calm.

I fish for a bit, my unwelcome neighbor’s luck dies down, and the fish continue to rise.

With a small break in the action, I finally bite the bullet, run back up to the car and grab my dry fly box. It’s on now, Chief.

I rig up a stonefly topper and an emerger dropper. For the next 30 minutes I start getting teased by the rainbows. But I don’t care, I am finally the high school freshman flirting with the senior.

11:30 rolls around. Closing time is soon, because I have to stick to that timeline. Wifey won’t care about how hot the bite was. Drastic times call for drastic measures… stonefly topper, biggest Stimi with legs I got on the dropper. Double dry rig… fish what you love.

I start doing the math, “if I leave by 11:50, get to the top of the canyon where I have service, text the wifey I am on my way, that should suffice as being home on time. Just a few more casts.”

I dry shake my flies for my last five casts. 1… 2… 3… come on… 4… bam!

This rainbow that hits is a 20” slab. A fun little fight to get him to shore, and Bro next door calls out “damn that is a nice fish.” Little does he know the morning I had to catch this bucket list fish, and his admiration made it that much better.

I left right after that fish, with one cast left in the chamber.

As I was leaving, I called down to the Bro next door, “the cove is all yours, and looks like a fun afternoon” And I am off.

So glad I stuck with it.

Quote of the Week

What We Are Watching

Fly Fishing Bolivia | Yellow Dog Field Reports

This video could also classify as a Dream Trip, but it shows a bucket list fishing excursion to Bolivia. Hitting the rivers of the Amazon jungle with indigenous guides to chase one of the world’s most prized game fish, looks like an adventure not to be missed. A great video, and a new dream unlocked!

What We Are Reading

How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen

by David Brooks

This book may be one of the best non-fiction books we have read this year! While it is a bit of a self-help book, it is not one that beats a dead horse of a message. It is packed with actionable information on how to actually connect with the people, and build deeper and more meaningful relationships. David Brooks created some mandatory reading to help us heal the divides in this world and help us truly understand others! Guaranteed to help you this holiday season.

One Fly Pattern

The Stinky Pinky

@flytyingtex crushes another one with this pattern. It really looks like a little worm! Pretty wild that this pattern has a hook and weighted wire in it. We would have never guessed. Hope to use one of these one day!

One Cause Tuesday was Giving Tuesday

But we are sure they would still love your help!

Nuggets for Nibblin’

How to Call Out a Friend

Friendship Stats

Fishing is a Doctor’s Order?!

Dry Bars

Merch is Coming…

#River Thoughts

• Cartoon vomit is almost always green, but real vomit is rarely, if ever actually green. (Source: Reddit)

• Most historic movies wouldn’t be nearly as romantic if they had historically accurate teeth (Source: Reddit)

• Almost every mythical creature sighting in ancient times can be explained by the fact that visually impaired people didn’t have glasses back then (Source: Reddit)

• It’s harder to win an argument with a stupid person than with a smart person. (Source: Reddit)

The World is So Cool

If you enjoyed this week’s newsletter, please share it with someone!

If this email was forwarded to you, consider subscribing to receive them in the future!