SPRING 2016
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EDITOR’S NOTES: FIRST CAST ...T H E WO OD S A N D WAT E R S OP E N U P, NAT U R E E M E R GE S F R OM H I BE R NAT ION, A N D W E A R E NO L ONGE R A L ON E .
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ost people believe the year begins in January, but in my opinion that’s not the case. The year begins the first moment you feel the heat of the sun on your back and no longer turn your back to the wind, but turn to it. It doesn’t matter what the date is. It only matters that spring is coming, no matter how brief and halting the first few steps. Writers wax poetic about spring to the point of maudlin nausea, but there is reason for it. Rivers flow again and from a seemingly dead, brown, and lifeless landscape life emerges. For those who love the outdoors, spring offers simple freedom. While winter offers its own natural wonder, it comes with restrictions; heavy clothes (we humans are a weak lot in the natural hierarchy), and ice and snow that must be dealt with in order for us to move about. Spring is the getout-of-jail-free card. The layers peel away, the woods and waters open up, nature emerges from hibernation, and we are no longer alone.
Turkey hunting is the perfect parable for spring and one of the reasons I pursue it. In truth if it were about the killing, I would have quit long ago as my hunting techniques are basically making the world safe for turkeys. What really makes it worthwhile is the sound of the woods waking up from its winter slumber. Perhaps no outdoor experience is ironically quite as peaceful as hunting in the spring woods at first light and listening to the natural progression of waking creatures. Eerily silent in darkness, the forest gently lightens cueing the first notes of songbirds, followed soon by the staccato peal of the pileated woodpeckers. The crow choir
joins the chorus a few moments later and amid this accompaniment, the gobbler rings forth with his solo to let the world and his harem know that he is alive and well. It is so consistent, so orchestrated, and yet each morning there is some subtle variation on the theme. The silence of the winter woods is beautiful in its own right, but the wakening of the spring forest confirms life. It’s the reason I go out there. An Orvis spring is no different. It’s an awakening that pulls us out of our shelter and into the natural world. The rivers flow and as the water temperatures rise, fish shake off their lethargy and begin to move and feed. In this issue we’ll rediscover spring in the Vermont woods, and on the road in Big Sur in an Airstream. We’ll explore the remarkable world of bees and the beauty of bird eggs in spring nests. We’ll discover what culinary treats await us in the spring woods and the annual rite of spring cleaning in our fly boxes. Orvis loves this life. Its mission is guided by people who live this life and create the products that make this life more comfortable, more accessible, more fun. While you may not be able to be a full-time trout bum, the simple act of pulling on a shirt from the Trout Bum Collection reminds you through the day what really matters. We all work, but for those of us who love the outdoors it is not the work that defines us. Work simply paves the way for our next adventure. Let us be your guide to that adventure and share with you our passion for this life. It’s the reason we continue to flourish 160 years after Charles Orvis first decided to show someone the pleasures of a fishing rod and the Battenkill.
EDITOR’S BACKGROUND: Paul Fersen is the Senior Writer for the Orvis Company and has written for and about Orvis and its lifestyle for more than 20 years.
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IT’S SPRING AND
ADVENTURE AWAITS. TAKE A WALK IN THE WOODS AND
BREATHE IN THE WILD AIR.
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SPRING 2016 EDITION. A sneak peek into what inspires and interests us this season.
CO NTENTS
SPRING AWAKENINGS 06 The season for renewal begins now.
32 SORTING IT ALL OUT Kick off spring with organized fly boxes.
NATURE LOOKS 12 Botanical prints designed to wear and love.
34 TROUT BUM Water first, work later: Discover the anatomy of the trout bum.
A-FORAGING WE WILL GO 14 A guide to uncovering spring’s best provisions. BIRDS AND BEES 16 The advantages of attracting vs. playing hard-to-get. BIG SUR: AN AMERICAN ROAD TRIP 20 484 miles of rugged coastline, countless stories. BIG SUR LOOKS 28 Adventure-ready styles inspired by the sunwashed coast.
38 THE TOOLS OF AN ANGLER’S LIFE We focus on the gear so you can focus on the fish. 40 EIGHT GR8 TROUT STREAMS The Clark Fork Coalition fights to heal vital tributaries. 44 ORVIS ADVENTURES Experience the world off the beaten path. 46 ORVIS COMMITMENT: Petfinder Foundation Learn how you can help place rescue dogs in loving homes.
SPRING FISHING: TRUE LIES 30 One angler’s struggle with a timeless fishing ritual.
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SPRING AWAKE NINGS
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n spring, nature is renewed. The snows of winter retreat and, on the freshening breeze, the scent of damp leaves and green growing things begins to tickle our senses. The quiet of the woods, for months broken only by the strident cries of jays and the cheery chirps of the tiny chickadees, now echoes with
the songs of returning flocks. Usually placid brooks become cascading freshets with the run of melting snow and ice. The world is alive in its most vibrant moments of the year.
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e cast our eyes constantly to the windows, craving the outdoors, yearning to stride across the open fields, to inhale the intoxicatingly crisp air. The season flirts with the heat of summer while we’re in the sun, but in the shade, we are again reminded that though winter is past, it is just behind us. It could strike again at anytime with an eleventh-hour blow of snow and ice. But it won’t last. As Edna St Vincent Millay wrote in her poem, New England Spring, 1942, “winter can’t come twice, even this year.’
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“CAME THE SPRING WITH ALL ITS SPLENDOR,
all its birds and all its blossoms, all its flowers and leaves and grasses.” — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Song of Hiawatha
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he days grow longer, the sun beams stronger, the winds blow sweeter. Coats give way to vests, then to sweaters. Heavy snow boots switch out to muddy wellies, then flip-flops and sandals are braved. We eat lunch outdoors, we herald the buzz of bees, we greet our neighbors with renewed enthusiasm. We understand the definition of spring fever in all its essence. Spring is here—get outdoors and breathe deeply the wild air.
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SPRING FLOR A
Floral Popover Silk Shirt
Wallaroo速 Josie Fedora
Woodland-Floral Burnout Tee
Cotton Twill Bush Shirt Printed 5-pocket Slim Jeans Belted CoatedCanvas Jacket
Moonlight Pines Fedora Linen-Knit Long Open Cardigan Woodland Graphic Tee
Moonlight Pines Printed Jacket Tassel-Trimmed Silk Paisley Scarf Twisted-Neck Slub Linen Tee Irish Linen Trousers
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A- FOR AG ING WE WILL GO
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I
n Vermont, we live by the seasons. And as Vermonters, many of us live close to the land. We grow vegetables in our kitchen gardens. We pick berries and apples, we gather nuts. We hunt waterfowl, grouse, woodcock, and deer to fill our freezers for the winter. We collect sap and boil it down to make the best maple syrup found anywhere. When it comes to the renaissance of foraging for food in both wild and urban spaces, we have to wonder what the fanfare is all about. We have always looked to the land for free, healthful food. As a largely rural state with more miles of dirt roads than paved roads, we have always known to find food outside of our local markets or groceries. While the spring weather may be unpredictable, the cycle of nature’s bounty is not. When the syrup makers are cleaning their equipment and re-stocking their woodpiles, we scour the woodlands and fields for fresh delicacies. We delight in the first purplish shoots of wild leeks, (we call ’em ramps hereabouts) pushing through the brown leaves under the last vestiges of snow. Once the jars of wild ramp marmalade and ramp relish are on the shelf, the unfurled fiddlehead ferns are just ready to
harvest and we head back to the woods. After the fiddleheads, the stinging nettles are ripe for picking along the edges of sunny fields. And then the deliciously bitter dandelion greens. And so it goes through the season, from morel mushrooms to tiny tender violets, it’s our collective treasure hunt. Foraging gives purpose to our walks in the woods. We guard our secret spots fiercely and we are mindful of nature’s abundance. We know to take only what we need and leave plenty to mature for the next year’s harvest. We take pride in stocking our shelves with native foodstuffs, with the same edibles enjoyed by our ancestors for thousands of years—before this resurgence of looking to the land for found foods was revived. Anyone can learn to gather “wild” food. Many local identification classes and field demonstrations exist (until you are thoroughly familiar with what is safe, wild plants should always be checked with an expert before eating); you just have to do a little investigating. And the payoff is so rewarding when you discover the variety of tastes and textures you can add to your daily menus.
DANDELION (TARAXACUM) Dandelion greens are the most nutritious leafy vegetable that you can find. Foraged greens are the first spring vegetable, and they make a great spring tonic.
MOREL MUSHROOM (MORCHELLA ESCULENTA) Morel mushrooms contain B complex vitamins, vitamin D, and essential amino acids, have antiviral, immunoregulatory, and anti-tumour growth effects.
ASPARAGUS (ASPARAGUS OFFICINALIS) Asparagus is an excellent source of vitamin K, folate, copper, selenium, vitamin B2, vitamin C, and vitamin E.
STINGING NETTLE (URTICA DIOICAAS) Traditionally used for treatment of disorders of the kidneys and urinary tract,
WILD GARLIC (ALLIUM VINEALE) Given its antibacterial, antibiotic, antiseptic and anti...well, just about everything, it’s quite possibly the perfect plant,
SWEET VIOLET (VIOLA PAPILIONACEA) Classified as a blood purifier, it helps with the elimination of waste products.
FIDDLEHEAD FERN (MATTEUCCIA STRUTHIOPTERIS) Contain various vitamins and minerals, as well as omega-3 and omega-6 fatty acids.
CHICKWEED (STELLARIA MEDIA) Acts as a stimulant, Contains minerals (magnesium, phosphorus, copper), flavonoid (rutin), and vitamins C, B6, B12, D and A.
QUEEN ANNE’S LACE GARLIC MUSTARD (DAUCUS CAROTA) (ALLIARIA PETIOLATA) Belongs to the carrot Garlic mustard greens family and contains have substantial beta-carotene, beneficial amounts of vitamins for kidney and bladder A, C, E. conditions.
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BEAUTY & THE BEES MAKING THE WORLD A MORE BEAUTIFUL PLACE. Imagine a world with no flowers. On early planet earth, all plants were green and brown. A vast array of greens and browns, but not the colorful palette we associate with springtime and gardens today. These plain plants used the wind to aid in pollination—not a very efficient method with 99.9% of the pollen wasted. Then, about 130 million years ago, the water lily and the magnolia developed white petals, clearly advertising “free pollen here!”.
Bees also use color to tell a flower’s temperature. They will choose to visit warmer flowers even if the nectar and pollen quality and quantity are the same or lower than colder flowers. Though the bees see a world invisible to humans, they’re drawn to remarkably similar blooms. In his book, The Botany of Desire, Michael Pollan observes that that the same patterns, colors, and fragrances that attract bees also attract humans. Symmetry, complexity, and vibrant color appeal to bees, while the more practical UV patterns direct them to food sources. Humans did not develop a way to see these UV maps. However, it’s in the best interest of flowers to be attractive to humans in order to get their help in propagation—and not fall victim to being “weeded out”.
Of the many insects that were drawn to flowers for their highly nutritious pollen, bees were the best at collecting and storing the golden goodness and transferring it to the intended targets. In response, flowers developed to be more attractive to them. Today, there are tens of thousands of species of bees each with specific tastes. Flowers became diversified as well, developing colorful petals and During a worker bee’s short lifetime (only about 6 weeks in unique patterns to the catch the bees’ eye. the summer), it can pollinate up to 50,000 flowers, explaining Bees’ eyes see UV light, allowing them to pick out pollen why through history they have come to symbolize the runways and nectar targets. When coming in for a landing energy of the sun and endless productivity. We can thank on a black-eyed susan, for example, the bee sees white the bees for an infinite variety of blossoms and scents—and petals with a dark, red center that radiates orange along for making the world a much more beautiful place. the base of each petal. It stands out starkly from the foliage – Debra Carr Brox which appears deep royal blue.
THREE TYPES OF BEES
FLIGHT SPEED OF THE HONEY BEE
1 OUT OF 3 BITES of food came from a bee pollinated plant
80%
LAYS 600-800 EGGS PER DAY = 400 lbs. OF HONEY
OF CROPS ARE POLLINATED BY HONEY BEES. THAT’S
$20 BILLION IN CROPS PER YEAR
HUMANS CONSUME
285 MILLION lbs. OF HONEY PER YEAR
NEARLY 1/3
OF ALL HONEY BEE COLONIES IN THE US HAVE VANISHED
SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL BEEKEEPER START A HONEY BEE HIVE SPONSOR A HIVE
PLANT A BEE-FRIENDLY GARDEN SPREAD THE WORD
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A PRACTICAL PALETTE The color and pattern of birds eggs.
W
ho, as a child, was not fascinated by the eyecatching, sky-blue robin’s egg stumbled upon lying intact on a soft patch of grass or discovered in a nest while climbing skyward in a tree? For most, encountering an egg that was not solid white or brown was relegated to Easter morning when eggs—dipped, dyed, and decorated—were dressed in Technicolor hues.
The color and pattern of eggs also help birds recognize their own. This is especially true for birds that nest in enormous colonies. How do they know which eggs are theirs? In effect, they recognize their own “painting.” That’s because the patterns on their eggs are created by pigments secreted as the eggs move through the uterus. An egg in motion can be painted with incredible patterns dictated by its movements, Turns out, bird eggs can rival those once-treasured Easter while an egg that essentially sits still in the uterus is more eggs. In nature, they vary enormously and delightfully. In both likely to be “painted” with spots. color and pattern, they provide a fascinating parade of designs It’s really all a matter of survival. Patterns have a purpose. The and hues. better camouflaged (or easily identified by its mother) an egg, Found in shades of red, brown, blue, green, and white with the better the chances the chicks will survive to propagate patterns charmingly classified as splashed, blotched, spotted, the next generation of its species. As for color, that serves a dotted, marbled, streaked, scrawled, overlaid, capped, and useful purpose beyond quick identification. Scientists believe wreathed, bird eggs display an incredible diversity of design. that color helps strengthen an eggshell and provide protection from UV light—a sort of natural sunscreen. But why? Egg experts and collectors believe that color and pattern have much to do with survival. To camouflage them from predators, the eggs of ground-nesting birds (such as the American Golden Plover) often match the color and pattern of what they are laid on. Birds that don’t leave their eggs during incubation (doves, owls, and herons) or lay them in hollows, burrows, or deep nests (woodpeckers, kingfishers, and wood ducks) are more likely to lay unmarked white eggs, making them less susceptible to predators.
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We may find the diversity of colors and patterns on bird eggs fun and fascinating, but for the birds, those characteristics are a very practical matter. And perhaps not a very new concept. According to Audubon, new evidence suggests 150-millionyear-old dinosaur eggs likely sported the original robin’s egg blue. But that’s another story altogether. – Bob Dagley
Pheasant
Partridge
Blackbird
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BIG SUR:
AN AMERICAN ROAD TRIP THERE IS SIMPLY NO PLACE IN THE WORLD WITH THE RUGGED BEAUTY OF BIG SUR. FEELING THE NEED TO BLOW THE OFF DUST OF A LONG WINTER, WE HEAD SOUTH ON ONE OF AMERICA’S MOST ICONIC ROADWAYS.
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“IT IS A REGION WHERE EXTREMES MEET,
H
a region where one is always conscious of weather, of space, of grandeur, and of eloquent silence.” — Henry Miller on Big Sur
ighway One twists through Big Sur, a two-lane highway snaking south down the craggy coastline from Carmel to San Simeon. Along the way, the vast Pacific sparkles to the west, the steep slopes of the Santa Lucia Mountains flank the east. Far below, isolated beaches teem with tide pools and colossal rock formations. Sequoia redwoods rise from the fog that sweeps in most afternoons and lingers until nearly noon most mornings. The salty ocean air mingles with eucalyptus, redwood, madrone, bay leaf, and mesquite, the heady fragrance of California chaparral.
The area has been an escape for celebrities and artists, musicians and writers, monks and pirates, Henry Miller made his first Big Sur home in a cabin built by Orson Wells and Rita Hayworth. Jack Kerouac took refuge in a house owned by Beat poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton danced in the famed Nepenthe Restaurant. We come to Big Sur in search of an idyllic spot of restorative solitude and rejuvenating natural beauty. Ready for a few days of adventure, we leave Monterey in our rearview mirror. We pull into Big Sur Campgrounds and are rewarded with
a highly coveted spot on the Big Sur River. The river runs fresh and cool through a grove of coastal redwoods and native hardwoods. We unhitch our shiny-silver Airstream under the noisy commentary of brilliant-blue Stellar Jays. The river is only ankle-deep near our spot, so we stash the fly rods for another day, opting to stretch our legs on the trails in nearby Andrew Molera State Park. The 8-mile Andrew Molera Loop offers everything we could ask for in a Big Sur hike, from a redwood grove to an unspoiled beach with dozens of spectacular bluff views and open vistas along the way. Spring wildflowers abound, from dusty-blue lupine to golden mariposa lilies and bright orange California poppies. The trail is steep in places and mostly in the sun so we welcome some fleeting shade beneath a small cluster of Monterey pines, enjoying sweeping views of the water far below. We glimpse the inky wings of California Condors floating above the vista. Winding our way down the trail to Molera Beach, we cool off in the icy waves before climbing back up the Trail Camp Beach Trail to the parking lot. Enough exercise for one day, it’s time for a beer on the terrace at Nepenthe.
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TRIP STATS: 484 MILES of coastline traveled 10 STATE PARKS visited 16 GLIMPSES of migrating whales 22 MILES hiked 154 PHOTOS snapped $362 total spent 1 lost shoe 24
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THE BEER IS COLD, the platter of California cheeses with quince jam, fig cakes, and fruit sublime—it’s an enchanted moment that can only be found in Big Sur. Leaving Big Sur Campgrounds the next day, we can’t resist stopping once again for Big Sur Bakery coffee and a breakfast pizza before heading south toward San Simeon. We pass through the tiny towns of Lucia and Gorda on our hour-anda-half long drive and opt out of the tour of the opulent Hearst Castle. Instead, we look to the sea. We’re more intent on getting our kayaks into San Simeon Cove. Sea kayaking in this breath-taking natural harbor is exactly what these lightweight little boats were made for. The cove is pristine and tranquil with an abundance of wildlife to take in, otters frolicking in the kelp forests, sunbathing sea lions, splashing dolphins. After several hours on the water, our tired paddle arms are ready for a break. We make camp at the Hearst San Simeon State Park and hike along the bluffs to watch the lumbering Elephant Seals at Piedras Blancas. After another long day of sun and salt air, we cobble together a simple campfire dinner and turn in. Our sojourn in Big Sur comes to a close the next morning and reluctantly we hitch up the Airstream, load the kayaks, the sandy beach towels, the camp stove, and the cooler to start the drive north. It’s been a spellbinding three days, a journey of rediscovery filled with incredible light, spectacular vistas, and spirited adventures. We return home with a renewed sense of self. — Lucinda Jamison
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River Guide Gingham Shirt Stretch Twill Hiking Shorts Fiesta-Band Crochet Straw Fedora Back Country UV Buff速
Drirelease® Floraland-Striped Tee Women’s Guide Pants SeaVees® Army-Issue Nylon Sneakers Slim-Line Cinchtop Backpack
Tropical Stripe Swim Top Botanical-Print Trucker Hat Sunwashed Sweatshirt Stretch Denim Boyfriend Jeans Embroidered Ball Cap Sperry® Seabrook Wave Thongs
Weathered Suede Field Bomber Jacket Rainfall Burnout Tee
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SPRING FISHING
GRAND LAKE STREAM, MAINE
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’m not a creature of habit, but I have a few rituals. One of them is to officially start my fishing season each spring with trip to Grand Lake Stream in Maine. It’s a long way from everywhere and the town (that’s stretching it, it’s official name has been Grand Lake Stream Plantation since 1897) is an unpretentious haven for fly fishermen and landlocked salmon. GLS went through many changes since it was settled in the 1600’s but about 150 years ago, progress sputtered and stopped. It’s the perfect place to maintain a tradition. I pulled into the parking lot at Dam Pool two years ago on a wet May morning. The weather in Down East Maine is often dreary and dark and, on this day, the clouds hung sullen and low, releasing a drenching downpour. The fishermen positioned around the pool looked serious and determined. I surveyed the situation, waiting for a spot to open. I didn’t see as much as a strike in over a half hour.
The Dam Pool is a challenging place to fish. Wide and short, there is limited space on on the banks. The ledge drops off sharply, making wading tricky. The current eddies and swirls, confounding your drift and the water is so cold, you can stand it for only short periods of time. Fishing is prohibited 100 feet from the dam, which further reduces access. There are just a few prime spots to stand and they are usually taken. Finally, a guy reeled in and trudged up the bank. I didn’t bother to ask him if he had any luck—he wouldn’t have left the pool after driving all the way up from Pennsylvania (I noticed his license plates) if he had any. I took his place and tied on a bead-head hare’s ear. This is a land where the streamer is king, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to think outside the (fly) box. On my second drift, my line stopped. I had a fish on. Big brookies hug the bank there and since the fish stayed deep, I thought
that was what I had. Then it rocketed out of the water and revealed itself to be a fine, 25-inch salmon. Some of the fishermen in the pool stopped and shook their heads, hands on hips. Others lit cigars and watched. Finally, as I tried to net it several times without success, I turned to the fisherman next to me and said, “My net is too small!” He smiled and replied, “Your fish is too big!” I realized, at that point, that I may not have the proper perspective for crafting whopper fish stories.
“My net is too small!” He smiled and replied, “Your fish is too big!” I worked my section of the pool for another hour—you don’t feel the cold when you’re catching—but no dice. I realized my fingers were numb, so it was time to take a break. There’s one general store that serves as the hub of the rustic village. It’s a good place to
dry off. The proprietor has allotted an impractical amount of space to a large table. It’s known as The Liar’s Bench. GLS is a fishing town so, of course, it’s always occupied during the season. At The Bench, pros and wannabes alike can spin a yarn, no questions asked. There’s no shortage of tall tales and hot coffee. Hot coffee sounded pretty good, so I headed to the store. I knew I had to “bring something to the table”, literally. Missing the exaggeration gene, I was feeling the pressure. What to do? I’d tell my tale and the truth would have to be good enough. I only caught one fish, so I only had one option. And I had witnesses, possibly hostile ones. I entered the store, not meeting anyone’s eye. One of the guys at the The Bench spoke. “Nice fish you got in the Dam Pool.” He slid over to make room for me, which meant, “Tell us about it”. I did, and the truth was good enough after all. – Debra Carr Brox
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SORTING IT ALL OUT
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very March, in anticipation of the fishing season ahead, I organize my fly boxes. It’s a monumental task. Not only are the boxes in disarray but there are wooly patches, hats, containers from fly shops, Tupperware, trays, glove boxes, and pockets that need to be emptied. Once all the flies have been collected on the kitchen table, a strategy must be conceived. I’ve tried many different approaches.
trip to Tierra Del Fuego in Argentina. My husband and I were there to catch the famed sea-run browns, the cover story on all the fishing magazines. Our guides (from Montana) insisted that we needed huge bunny streamers to attract the big, aggressive fish. For two days we tried with no luck. On the third, we were assigned to a local fishing guide, who was more willing to let us experiment. Considering the situation, we both tied on a fly we felt to be tried-and-true–a bead-head hare’s ear nymph–and we both hooked and landed a 10 plus-pound brown. Back at the lodge, dinner conversation became strained when the others found out about our success. We were the only ones that caught sea-runs the entire week.
By type—all nymphs in one box, streamers in another, hoppers in another, etc. This results in a large number of boxes needed for each outing. Though I appreciate being prepared for anything, this method requires me to stuff my vest with six or so fly boxes, making it difficult to cast and impossible to see my feet. Also, trying to find the fly I need quickly is an The easiest choice would be to have a fly box for all the exercise in futility. scenarios I mentioned. Let’s see…that would require about By region – this includes Eastern, Western, Canada, and 20 fly boxes, and and average of 50 flies per box. I’m not Tropical. Using this strategy, I invariably do not have the sure that’s prudent. Plus, I don’t tie flies myself. I place orders pattern I need and end up at a nearby fly shop to add to my with my husband who ties or buy I them. Often, when I step selection. This is not the worst thing, because it always helps up to the cashier at a fly shop, I have so many flies that the to tap local knowledge for what’s working. However, I’m also guy asks where I guide! When I tell them I’m not a guide they forced to buy duplicates of flies that I have back home in a always suggest I take up tying. I smile and agree, but have no more intention of becoming a cobbler to support my shoe different box. habit than of becoming a fly tier to keep myself in BWOs. By river—I’ve had boxes for Silver Creek and Henry’s Fork That would involve the purchase and organization of a truly in Idaho, Salmon River in New York, the Penobscot in Maine overwhelming amount of stuff and a place to store it. – I even had a box specifically for the Big Hole in Montana. This method was by far the least successful. The only instance Comedian Steven Wright said, “You can’t have everything… where organizing by body of water really works is in Canada Where would you put it?” I must resign myself to the fact that for Atlantic salmon and the tropics for bonefish/permit/tarpon. I can’t have every fly for every possible situation and location. My solution is to always have a flask. That way, if I can’t match Then there is the “favorites” fly box option, filled with just the the hatch, I can enjoy good scotch while I wait it out. classics. I have found that a trout is a trout, and they like — Debra Carr Brox certain bugs, no matter where they live. That was proven on
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A N AT O M Y O F T H E T R O U T B U M What is a “trout bum�? Nominally, it means an angler so dedicated that he or she thinks water first, work later. At Orvis, we suspect there is a bit of trout bum in all of us, whether we live to fish or just enjoy the adventure of getting out to places where fish might be found.
TROUT BUM
Long-Sleeved Open-Air Caster
Trout Bum Supplex® Ball Cap UV Buff® Women’s Riverbend Packable Jacket Trout-Print Graphic Tee Women’s Guide Shorts
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THE ORVIS WOMEN’S TROUT BUM Adventure-ready pieces designed for all climates, cultures, and environments, whether you’re hitting the stream, heading for the hills, or taking the trail to town.
B
A
D
C
E
A. Drirelease® Floral-and Striped Tee B. Women’s Rainy Bridge Long-Sleeved Shirt C. Women’s Guide Shorts D. Four-Way-Stretch Woven Performance Pants & Capris E. Drirelease® Summerland Striped Tee
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Women’s Drirelease® Long-Sleeved Quarter-Zip Tee
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TH E TOOLS OF AN
ANG LER ’ S LIFE THERE COMES WITH EACH FISH a singular thrill when a sudden tug connects us to something wild and untamed, and we cease to be just observers of the natural world. For a remarkable moment we hold it in our hands. It never changes. From the first tug on a child’s cane pole to the bend of the rod on an old gentleman’s final trip, that feeling fuels the journey. Our tools evolve with the inexorable improvement in technology, but for reasons we don’t care to explain, we can’t bear to part with the old. Our new gear, our latest additions to this insatiable quest lie surrounded by the old. Reels, vests, rods long unused, tackle boxes full of ancient lures, and old fly boxes fill our closets and fishing rooms like hoarder’s treasure. We stand before it reveling in the new and the prospect of tugs yet to come, but here is where the memories reside and collectively it whispers to us of our angler’s life.
CLASSICS REINVENTED
ORVIS BOA® PIVOT BOOT BEST WE’VE EVER BUILT
HYDROS® SL REEL FREAKISHLY FAST RETRIEVE
SUPERSTRONG™ PLUS LEADERS & TIPPET IMPROVED WET KNOT STRENGTH
1856 BAMBOO ROD BAMBOO MEETS HELIOS™ 2 TECHNOLOGY
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— M O N TA N A —
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YOU DONATE WE MATCH HEAL EIGHT GREAT TROUT STREAMS FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS.
“IF
we leave her alone, she’ll take care of herself… Mother Nature is always going to try to heal herself,” lifelong Montana resident Tim Flynn tells me as we look over the confluence of Warm Springs and Silver Bow Creek, the headwaters of Montana’s Upper Clark Fork River. There is a slight look of newness to the area—the native plants are growing, but young. The creek banks are alive, but the willows aren’t overflowing up and around the meandering stream path. Downstream, deer fencing remains intact, protecting newly planted vegetation around the reconstructed section of the Clark Fork. Everything appears healthy and safe; and, for the first time in 150 years, it is. Phase 1 of the Clark Fork Superfund Complex project was completed in 2014. Excavators removed 330,000 cubic yards of contaminated soil (polluted by toxic mining waste that inundated the river when tailings piles washed away during the 1908 flood) and replaced it with new fill and over 130,000 new plants. The river and its streams are returning to life, and quickly.
If anybody understands the impact of this rebound, it’s Tim. His great-grandfather worked for Anaconda Copper (the company whose mining and metals processing practices were ultimately responsible for the massive river contamination), walking 20 miles a day to inspect the settling ponds for leaks. His grandfather was a safety engineer at the smelter for 47 years. His father served as Montana’s Director of Fish, Wildlife, and Parks. “There was a lot of money made at the expense of the environment, and now there is a lot of money being made cleaning up the degradation of the environment. Is that worth it?” Tim pauses to let his question sink in. He understands how murky the confluence of a mining economy and the environment can be. The history of copper mining is in his blood, but so is the Clark Fork and her tributaries. The Upper Clark Fork River (the headwaters of a 22,000 square-mile watershed) flows between the three largest wilderness complexes in the Northern Rockies. But nearly 150 years of intensive mining, logging, and grazing have severely damaged this vital ecological corridor, leaving its
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1. COTTONWOOD CREEK (42 sq. miles)
DEER LODGE
Conservation population of westslope cutthroat trout in upper reaches cannot reach mainstem river due to severe dewatering and fish passage barriers.
MAP AREA
2. PETERSON CREEK (31 sq. miles) 3. DEMPSEY CREEK (30 sq. miles) Conservation population of westslope cutthroat trout in upper reaches compromised by de-watering, fish passage barriers, and severe degradation of lower riparian corridor.
Conservation populations of westslope cutthroat trout in middle and upper reaches face obstacles from low flows, high water temperatures, degraded habitat, and competition from non-native species.
4. RACETRACK CREEK (50 sq. miles) 6. DRY COTTONWOOD CREEK (34 sq. miles)
Sport fishing, brown trout spawning, and important irrigation stream undermined by low flows, loss of connectivity, areas of poor aquatic and riparian habitat, and fish passage barriers.
Conservation populations of westslope cutthroat trout in middle and upper reaches (no non-native salmonids exist) threatened by low flow, loss of connectivity, fish passage barriers, and poor water quality.
5. MODESTY CREEK (22 sq. miles) Rare spring creek that could provide cool groundwater inflow, thermal refuge, and cover from predators severed from mainstem river by being routed into irrigation flume.
ANACONDA
OPPORTUNITY
7. LOST CREEK (61 sq. miles) Important brown and whitefish spawning stream with excellent fish and wildlife habitat compromised by dewatering and a fish passage barrier.
8. WARM SPRINGS CREEK (144 sq. miles) Extremely important westslope cutthroat and threatened bull trout conservation stream facing low flows, fish passage barriers, and degraded riparian and aquatic habitat.
THE EIGHT GR8 TROUT STREAMS STRATEGIES THE CLARK FORK COALITION AND ITS PARTNERS WILL:
STRATEGY 1: Return flow to dewatered reaches to restore and improve aquatic and riparian habitat. STRATEGY 2: Reconnect streams to the mainstem and remove fish passage barriers to unlock spawning strongholds. STRATEGY 3: Improve channel function, enhance riparian vegetation, and adjust land management practices to improve water quality. STRATEGY 4: Reduce sediments and excessive nutrients to improve riparian habitat.
BUTTE SOURCE: Google Maps
You don’t have to live near the Clark Fork to understand how a river is the central bloodline in a community. But what you may not understand, if you grew up along cleaner waterways, is what happens when your river basin is toxic. “My dad could never have imagined the Clark Fork as a clean river. He was told, ‘Don’t you ever, ever go in the Clark Fork. It’s toxic.’” Tim Flynn was packing up his fly rod when I arrived to meet him, fishing a river that was posted as hazardous for most of his life. “But now it’s a place you can go on and recreate.” - Tim Flynn
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streams degraded, de-watered, and disconnected. the biological ones—rivers sustain us, connect us, inspire Thanks to decades of scientific research and citizen us. It’s our job to respect that, and to take care of that. advocacy, a 1983 lawsuit filed by the state against ARCO, The Eight Gr8 critical tributaries have been disrupted and a Superfund settlement in 1986, the overworked and de-watered; but these vital and diverse fisheries river basin is finally on the mend. Massive reconstruction of the Upper Clark Fork basin can be restored. Re-water, projects at Silver Bow Creek upstream and the Milltown rehabilitate, reconnect—that’s the plan. Dam site downstream were great successes, and the Tim Flynn remembers when the river was so polluted 22-phase Superfund clean-up along this 45-river-mile he couldn’t take his family there. Today, he can catch stretch of the Clark Fork in between is off to a strong five different species of trout five minutes from his house. start (the 15-year project began in 2012). But the river “Is that worth protecting? Is it worth doing everything won’t be whole once the Superfund project is complete. we can to ensure that my grandkids have the same That’s where the Clark Fork Coalition’s Eight Gr8 Trout opportunity? Absolutely. That’s my mission and that’s Streams project comes in—what’s left to do beyond the Clark Fork Coalition’s mission too.” Superfund? The answer lives in the tributaries. — Jett Brooks Rehabilitating streams and rivers has impacts far beyond
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THE ROMANS HAD CHEERING THRONGS TO WELCOME THEM HOME. THE VIKINGS, ENORMOUS FIRES. THE BROOKLYN DODGERS, TICKER TAPE PARADES.
WE HAVE DOGS.
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TAILS START WAGGING. Join Orvis and the Petfinder Foundation in helping more than 12,000 shelters nationwide rescue dogs and place them in loving homes.
H
e was lanky and far too thin, with a respectable fight-wound across his pink nose, and an unmistakable kindness in his eyes. He did not bark, or wag his tail, or even stand up in his crate when we entered the shelter. He rested his chin on his front paws, and watched us closely, but without hope or enthusiasm. “He’s the one,” my husband said. I looked closer at the white spot on his floppy right ear. He was the one.
Bailey whenever she looked at us with desperate eyes, pleading to return to the days of being our one and only. And we were, at least partially, telling the truth.
During his first week at home with us, Wendell was neither skittish, nor particularly brave. When outside, he stood on our well cap, more comfortable with the familiar feel of hard, cold plastic than the feel of grass underfoot. He never barked or whined, but made a strange sound reminiscent of Chewbacca’s moaning when he was feeling playful. His ears were huge and droopy, but his tail was short and perfectly straight. He never left our older dog’s side, and she never let him explore without her. She raised him. He kept her company. She was the reason we got him, after all.
Wendell still doesn’t leave our older dog’s side. He wanders about looking lost and confused when she isn’t home, and wiggles uncontrollably when he sees her. His presence has made Bailey act younger, and made it easier for us to watch her grow older. And eventually—maybe even immediately— he grew in our hearts and taught us that we could love him almost as much as his older sister.
Bailey was 11 and her age was becoming more obvious every day. She was, and still is, the best dog in the world. We never expected to like a second dog half as much as her, nor did we feel the obligation to do so. But we wanted her to have a companion, and to enjoy a playmate before she got too old. “We got him for you” we would remind
Quickly, the foxhound/pointer/whatever-he-is could run faster and farther than his Lab/hound sister. He started to take up the majority of their bed, and passed her in height. He grew more independent and adventurous. And his respectable nose scar became a tiny thin scratch, hardly detectable.
We adopted Wendell through the Petfinder Foundation, an organization that strives to ensure that no pet is euthanized for lack of a home by facilitating adoptions and supporting shelters nationwide. In 2016, Orvis looks forward to continuing our relationship with the Petfinder Foundation for the fifth consecutive year. You can help. When you donate to this cause, we match your donation. It’s that simple. Learn more at orvis.com/petfinder.
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