Big Flies and Bull Trout

Fishing trips are hard, specially when that trip involves crossing an international border, and when your targeted species is a migratory fish. Limited amount of fishing time, and the feeling of never being able to fish these waters again sets in and the pressure is on. Normally these types of trips are more likely to end in disappointment then in glory. But we sent it anyway, I mean you never know when you would be this close to THE place to catch Bull trout, during THE best time of year to find them. British Colombia here we come. 

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TroutJames MugeleBull Trout
Flat Creek

There is a small creek right outside of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Heaven and Hell, together, in one smooth and slithering little stretch of water. It is a place where you crouch behind tall grass, and watch mayfly duns and spinners get sipped, effortlessly off the surface. No fishing, just watching. A place where you can spend twelve hours casting at rising fish without landing one, and a place where your two weight rod can get absolutely throttled in a split second. The Flat Creek.

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James Mugele
October Caddis

    When you are tying up big foam October Caddis flies you know you are doing something right. And when you are being pelted by them as you are tying them, you know you are definitely doing something right. We were tying by light of our lantern- a flashlight pointed to a half-filled vegetable oil jug, and by the end of the night dozens of moths were stuck to it. Big caddis everywhere. In all of our poor planning of this trip, we managed to time this hatch perfectly. 

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James Mugele
SANDWICHES, PBR AND MUSKY

A lot of flies were tied this past winter at the house of flies- I mean a lot. Nights filled with PBR pounders and red wine, trimming bucktail into tapered sections along various articulated hook shanks. We were on one for sure, desperately waiting for the last weekend of May, to chase a fish we are truly lucky to be able to hunt with fly rods. Musky.

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James Mugele
A STORY OF ME LOSING TO A FISH

Mann, its been so long since I felt a fish on a rod I think I forgot what its like- holding the bobbing weight, watching your line as it tightens and shoots upstream, seeing the flash from belly rolls underneath the surface, the mental chaos. I miss it. That’s also probably why when I finally hooked into one, I missed it. The battle was short, and line shot back, tangling with the bushes behind me. I forgot what to do. 

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James Mugele