Just 'a swing'n

For the most part, the 2011 guide season has come to a close. This is the time of the year when guides finally get to play and chase those big fall pre-spawn Browns we've been thinking about all summer. I'm here to tell ya, the fishing itch get dang strong after a six month stretch of watching someone else do all the fishing. For me, this fall hasn't gone down like the post seasons of the past. This winter, my wife and I are expecting our first kiddo, and that means my life has been inundated with assembling cribs, buying bibs, and creating a baby's room. So when Mrs. Webb had the baby shower at the house, I bolted for the closest piece of water to wet a line while the ladies played girly baby games. Fortunately for me, the Gallatin River is within spitting distance from my place, and I can have my feet wet in about five minutes flat. For some reason, I wasn't feeling like staring at a bobber or constantly casting a streamer and a sink tip. So I grabbed my tiniest spey rod, turned my brain off, stood in the river, and swung sculpin patterns through the deepest pools I could find. Man, that act alone is therapy to me. There's something hypnotizing about watching your line swing and feeling the weight of the current pulling your fly across the river. And just when I'm least expecting it, BANG! I get a grab at the tail out of the pool that snaps me back to consciousness. Rather than let the fish turn and hook himself, I violently swing the rod in an attempt to set the hook and completely miss the fish. That happened two times before I could just chill out and let the trout do his job and get hung up on his own, making it possible for me to put him in hand. I ended up landing two mid-teen fish in about three hours. Not too bad for a short trip. But on the quick drive home I couldn't stop thinking about how a fish of that size could be so electric when smacking a swung fly. The tug truly is the drug. I haven't stopped thinking about spey casting and swinging flies for the last two days and can't wait to get back in the river an keep scratch'n that itch. I've got about six weeks before I dive head first into fatherhood and living vicariously through my fellow trout junkies. But until then, I'll be seeking out those long runs and deep pools every chance I get.

Ty Webb