Here is the teaser for our 2015 Fly Fishing Film Tour film submission BUCKNASTY BROWNS. Be looking for the full-length feature this January.
Instagram: @bucknastybrowns #bucknastybrowns
Here is the teaser for our 2015 Fly Fishing Film Tour film submission BUCKNASTY BROWNS. Be looking for the full-length feature this January.
Instagram: @bucknastybrowns #bucknastybrowns
Travis rifled through the YETI as we sat on the dusty tailgate, consuming the day’s lunch and reliving the morning’s success. Fish after fish had been tackled from the long, complex run and we thought the wise browns had been put down for the day. I walked along the road with a Moose Drool in hand observing and taking in the day. As I glanced down into the current the golden back of a modest brown slowly breached and then disappeared back into the depths. I sat and watched and soon multiple fish emerged, hidden in plain sight feeding on some new hatch that I had no knowledge of.[vimeo https://vimeo.com/109398135 w=580&h=440]
Sam was up on the sticks and soon casts were made, flies were changed and eventually fish were caught. The size #18 whatever was stuck firmly in the browns lip, right next to a past fisherman’s fly, serving as proof of the tiny flies that dominate this waterway. Calling it a size #18 whatever would be disrespectful though given the time and knowledge put into it’s creation by Nate Brumley.
Nate is one of the nicest human’s you’ll meet and especially amongst fisherman. Ask many folks about one of their favorite waters and your reception will often be ill. Nate on the other hand bursts with knowledge that pulls from the deepest parts of his vast memory. From flies to hatches to stretches of river it all spills out into a novel of highly diverse yet well woven information. It’s the type of thing where you hear it all but only can store about 10% of the data. He does run a very knowledgeable fly tying business (Dry Fly Innovations) that I’d highly recommend, but his generosity runs deep regardless of any ties to business or personal advancement as we quickly found out. Mr. Brummley’s residence was our first stop on our long trip down to Oregon to search for large brown trout during Montana’s annual runoff. We loaded up on flies, mostly size 18 and 20 and set off for parts unknown brimming with confidence after our time spent with Nate.
The first life form on the river was seen from the edge of the road as we rolled up into the canyon. A small back eddy was filled with carp swirling along the desert colored mud. We contemplated fishing them but given the prospects that lay up the road we ventured on. The river was an oversized slough with small sections of riffles and pocket water followed by long deep runs stretching for hundreds and sometimes thousands of yards. Where the biggest of browns would lurk was anyone’s guess.
We soon couldn’t resist the urge to fish and pulled in under a tree and rigged up. The first afternoon would be simply spent fishing and scouting. We wanted to know we could land a few before the cameras rolled out. We soon diverged from the truck and began fishing our own ways. It was hot and I didn’t see much action unfolding on top of the emerald green waters. I’ll admit I’m a streamer junky and the thought of big browns quickly had me avoiding the microscopic bugs and tying on our buddy Gandalf. He was the tan and white variation and the first cast was immediately chased into the calm water by an angry brown. I threw it back in, letting it slide off the shelf before stripping it in towards the slack water. My line went tight and a fat brown quickly went airborne. The fight was solid with this buck but soon he was within the confines of the net resting from his midday battle.
As soon as my hook was free I was back to casting, this time a bit further across the seam. A black tank emerged slamming my fly but the line went slack a second later. He couldn’t be enticed a second time and quickly we were distracted by a stock truck dumping hundreds of fingerling rainbows off the bridge behind us. The small fish fought the current before being sucked back downriver into the next pool. We knew some opportunistic browns would be up for this type of treat. Soon we found Sam, working a dry through tasty water but the report was fish 1, Sam 0. We told him of the fish stocking and quickly streamers were tied on. As Travis fished just above me a small rainbow swam between my legs followed by a menacing brown. I’m sure he had his way with the newly transplanted fish.
The following day we fished hard. We switched bugs and moved locations but hadn’t put up much for numbers. After a long spring with little dry fly action we all had to brush off a little rust and try to remember how to fish a size 18 bug. As we fished a hole just a stones throw from the truck Nate pulled up. We quickly made our way back up to the truck to see how his morning had went. After showing us photo after photo of nice browns I had to ask, “What were you fishing.” “Oh I was using a beetle” he said. Ok then. Of course Nate was quick to supply us with an assortment of free flies and his wife had sent him off with some delicious soup to give us. Did I mention Nate is a pretty likeable guy?
We had our eyes on a small side channel containing multiple rising fish and set off with renewed confidence as a Brumley beetle was attached to our line. The fishing was silly and we finally were laying down some great footage. The ball was rolling and we had two days left to keep it that way.
Now despite any reports or advice on hatches or patterns I know I can always go to a streamer and turn fish, most often good ones. Considering the bucknasty browns that should be lurking here and after the very first afternoon the streamer was a constant part of the menu we were serving up to these fish. It was consistently the big fish producer. It was mid-day and we stopped to fish a run that had been fished that morning. As my streamer bounced into the river off the bank it was freight trained by a “bucknasty.” This wasn’t the first time this trip and I instantly started thinking one thing, mice. As the day progressed the weather started to roll in. Overcast skies and a light drizzle was all it took for Travis to make the switch. The neon yellow mouse skittered and skated and we all watched with anticipation. Finally a swipe was made, a miss but we knew it would be a go to method for the rest of the day. A short bit later Travis hooked and landed the first of the trip as a brown came arching out of the water attacking the mouse.
We were on cloud 9 at the moment and that afternoon found nothing other than a mouse attached to our lines. Over the next three hours we got over a dozen eats and after a lot of misses I was able to end the day with back-to-back browns from the same run. Sometimes it pays to get risky and fish something not on the fishing report. On this day it sure did.
The rest of the trip was a success and we were able to stack up some awesome footage, I’ll even go out on a limb and say some of it is our best to date. For the rest of the story you’ll have to catch our film, “Bucknasty Browns” in the 2015 Fly Fishing Film Tour. A special thanks to our project supporters: Simms, Orvis, Scientific Anglers, Grizzly Hackle, YETI, DECKED, and Bozeman Reel Co.
There would be no dark timber, no wallows and downfall this September. The subsititues would be coulees filled with sage and brush, patchy timber, clay buttes and grassy bottoms. The elk would be more visible but also much more educated. The name of the game would be spot-and-stalk, which was fine with me. When we arrived at our campsite a few days before season we were welcomed by seeing a dozen bulls trotting off from a pond nearby. The elk were here, we just needed to find the half blind, deaf and dumb ones and we’d be ok.
The first day started quick. We spotted a herd feeding up back towards the hills as the east was beginning to lighten. The wind was still working in our favor and we quickly looped ahead. A couple bugles littered the morning as we dropped the packs. I snuck up to the last bush before the saddle I figured they would travel through. Travis stayed back with the camera in a more hidden position. I slowly stood to see if they were still coming. A small raghorn was looking my way but didn’t appear to recognize me. There were a bunch of bulls behind him and I crouched back down and put my release on the string. A minute later the first of about 10 bulls came through at 56 yards. Raghorn, spike, raggy, raggy, raggy, damn raggy! The last two bulls came into view, both small immature bulls. I cow called and one stopped perfectly broadside. I held my pin behind the shoulder. He was toast if I wanted him. I let down and they trotted off. Well things were off to a good start but where did the herd bull go? We dipped over to the next small ridgeline and sat down. Soon we saw a good bull emerge across the basin, pushing cows and softly bugling. They had made it to the timber and the game was over at the moment.
Right now your probably thinking it’s just another cheery day in Montana out elk hunting but I’ll give you one word that will change your mind, mosquitoes. Heavy rains dropping multiple inches of moisture in late August had spawned the gnarliest hatch of mosquitoes that anyone had seen in many many years. At any moment you could have 20-100 mosquitoes swarming your body thirsty for blood. It made life miserable as they were there 24/7. Any semblance of scent control was out the window as you had to constantly be spraying bug spray to have any degree of comfort out there. The daily bite average had to be over 20 bites even with bug spray and head nets, which were worn during times of the most intense attacks.
After a few days of this we were greeted by heavy rain for two days. Our boots were wet and with nothing to build a fire near our truck we were stuck in the truck with wet layers, socks and sleeping bags courtesy of a leaky topper. We camped it out, it’s part of the adventure right?
When the rain had resided we began hunting again. The mud stuck to your boots in large amounts. Turning your boots into 5 pound mud clogs. We still found elk and even a couple nice deer but stalking in mud that was multiple inches deep that squeaks and sloshes makes a quiet approach almost impossible.
A day after the rain the hordes of mosquitoes were back which made for equally difficult stalking conditions. Trying to sneak through the timber within 100 yards of a bull with 10 cows is tough when your trying to swat mosquitoes out of your eyes and ears, add in a second guy filming and it gets even harder. Over the next week I was within 100 yards of 7-8 bulls that I’d be more than happy to tag. It seemed the elk had a sixth sense and would do everything opposite of what they had been doing prior to the stalk and contrary to what you thought they’d do. Add in a few stalks blown by dumb hunters (me) and a couple by death by mosquito and I was feeling a bit angry and frustrated. My time was up for the time being and it was my turn to pick up the camera and get to filming. Four days later Travis had a bull down and we were headed back to Missoula with an elk in the truck.
We knew we had to return. We had about a week and a half until we had to head east for mule deer and I had a grudge to pick with these bulls. As we pulled into our morning spot the truck read 74 degrees. This was at 5:30 am. It was hot and daily temps for the next two days would easily surpass 85 degrees. The elk were back in their first and last hour regiment and sightings were minimal. The third morning the bulls were pumped up though, with 5 different bulls firing off in one small basin. After a couple hours we had closed the gap on the one bull staying vocal after the sun had risen. He was up at the head of a small draw. The boots came off and we headed up the side of the draw. After twenty minutes we heard coughing and hacking about 70 yards in front of us. After sneaking around a couple bushes I could see a cow shaking her head and blowing her nose trying to clear her airways of something. It seems she had sucked in one of those pesky mosquitoes. I glassed around her but saw no elk. I decided to loop up around a hundred yards. As we started dropping down into the timber I heard a bugle right back where we had been just ten minutes ago. They had circled under us and they were now up and moving. A few minutes later as we closed the gap on the bull a collared cow busted us and the gig was up. As we got back to the packs Travis says, “I wonder if that bull smelled the estrus I sprayed while I was waiting as you were watching that cow?” All I could do is laugh and shake my head. Sabotage at it’s finest.
Two days later we quietly slipped down a ridge. It had once again rained and everything was quiet. As we sat down to glass we quickly spotted two bulls. One fed over the far ridge and the second bedded in a group of brush. It looked like a stalk was possible and we closed the gap. We peeked up over the ridge across the basin from him and he was still there looking complacent as he chewed his cud.
I got landmarks, took off my raingear and headed off. As I crept over the ridge I knew the brush was taller than I had expected. I kept sneaking in closing the gap and the far hill was only 60 yards. He was close but I couldn’t see anything. As I stepped back to move further down the hill I heard grass being ripped up. I turned back and saw antler tips through the brush. He was now on his feet feeding. I stepped back up but my only gap left a shooting lane that only revealed his upper back and head. No shot. He soon had wandered downhill behind the brush. I looked down the hill and noticed one small gap and the area behind it looked grassy. I hoped he’d head that way. After a tense moment that felt like ten I saw him coming. I was ready and as soon as he was a step from hitting my lane I drew. He proceeded to turn downhill and then enter my gap quartering away too hard. He was 45 yards and after just over a minute of being at full draw he turned broadside. My pin settled behind the shoulder and the arrow was off. It made a loud smack and he ran down the hill. I could see my arrow sticking out and as soon as he disappeared I heard crashing and wheezing. I knew it was over, all the effort fighting the elements and matching wits with some of the most educated elk in the state had finally paid off.
[Well September is a busy busy month. Archery season is only so many days long and throw in time spent filming and getting some work done and it always seems like time is too short and the personal days you get to hunt too few. This fall has been a whirlwind and we’ve been very blessed so far. I just wanted to give a quick update on the elk hunting and some recent success I had before we head back out the door to chase mule deer. Enjoy!]
Two days prior to opening day Zack and myself wandered the hills, searching for bugling bulls. Our ears were instead filled with the buzz of little pests. The mosquitoes were like the plague. The heavy rainfall that this area had received at the end of August rejuvenated the mosquitoes in the area to biblical proportions. We quickly made a detour to the closest town to buy mass quantities of bug spray and cross our fingers that our Thermacell would deter a small portion of the hungry critters.
Zack was up first, while I had the camera in tow. The elk hunting was difficult, between hunting pressure and avoiding the mosquito swarms. Stalks on bedded elk usually ended in a blood buffet for the mosquitoes. Staying still for more than five minutes was a chore and spending time behind the glass was rather frustrating.
Zack still managed a bunch of great encounters and passed on multiple bulls, hoping to lure the herd bull in close. Before we knew it another heavy rain storm was upon us. The gumbo mud appeared in full force and our boots instantly turned into ten pound weights. Living out of the truck became quite the task.
After battling the elements, the sun regained its strength, but not without a price. The mosquitoes had flourished in the new rainfall and we were now on the brink of insanity. Zack was frustrated and gave myself the opportunity to hunt the last four days of our trip. I made the best of my time, finding multiple bulls, and breaking the 100yd mark on numerous occasions.
Our final morning we found a large herd we had been following. Our wind was swirling all morning and half the herd split for cover. A lone bull stole 6 cows and wandered elsewhere. We pursued, seeing opportunity in the landscape they were headed. Removing my boots and going into ‘full ninja’, I crept in to 35 yards, cow calling the bull to his feet before deploying an arrow.
The shot looked good, but the penetration was not as expected. Lung blood littered the ground, but slowly dissipated into a timbered coulee. After an hour of searching we relocated the bull, who was bedding and standing every hour in the thick brush. With no opportunity for a stalk, we waited the bull out for 6 hours, before he finally bedded in a position where I thought a shot might be possible. I got back into my ninja socks and crept in to within bow range. The bull was about to stand to re-bed once again, I came to full draw, fighting the heavy crosswind before putting pressure on the trigger. The bull stood stunned as I put two more arrows in his chest before taking his final breath.
After examining my first shot, I found out my arrow placement was too low given the downhill angle. My arrow had pierced one lung and struck the sternum. I thanked the good Lord above that I was able to recover this animal and felt relieved to know that the animal would not go to waste. This elk season has brought about so many challenges, yet this season has been my best elk season to date. Once again I have been overwhelmed with the knowledge you gain elk hunting year after year. The confidence is high going into the remainder of the season. Elk meat is in the freezer!
When the salmon flies are out and the big trout are on the prowl life is good. Our latest film, BAREBACK RIDER documents a few days on the river with our good friends Dan “Rooster” Leavens and Gray Edmiston. From catching big, jumping browns to the guys eating handfuls of salmonfly nymphs this film has a bit of it all. Check it out![vimeo https://vimeo.com/84742433 w=580&h=440]
After a week of subzero temperatures, we decided the conditions were perfect for coyote hunting. We met up with Matt Piippo of Predator Quest and quickly hit the dirt roads in the brisk -18F weather. The day turned out to be our best day coyote hunting to date, seeing a coyote on every stand. The Predator Quest Excursion’s bumper quickly started to fill and resulted in our title for the film “Fillin the Bumper”.
[vimeo https://vimeo.com/84002606 w=580&h=440]
To read the complete story click here> http://montana-wild.com/subzero/
Work, work, work. What many don’t realize is we don’t spend every day out hunting and fishing. Don’t get us wrong we spend plenty of time out in God’s country. The past week had been spent tirelessly staring at a computer screen for 12 hours a day, editing video, drafting emails, planning 2014, and editing photos. Tomorrow we would be hitting the road and I had not even looked at a map to make a gameplan. It would be a roadtrip filled with exploration at it’s finest. A map, a gps, and some optics would be the only compass on this trip. We’d drive and look for any likely buck hangout. I won’t rehash Travis’ hunt for you as he’s already written a solid piece detailing the first part of our roadtrip which ended with him shooting a sweet looking 3×3. Please take a few moments and read about his hunt and the beginning of our roadtrip HERE.
What we had learned over the past 3 days is that a lot of the ground we could hunt has little access that doesn’t have roads or ATV trails criss crossing through it. There is no map that will accurately show the roads in an area. This means you must be willing to drive entire days just to see where and how you can access the land you intend to hunt. Areas that look amazing might be total crap if a road is beat right through the middle of it. Take enough time to do the ground work and you will be rewarded though. After getting Travis’ buck on ice in the YETI it was my turn to grab the rifle and start sifting through the country searching for a mature deer. Our first evening was spent driving into a new area with a GPS glued to my hand. It appeared that multiple areas existed that would provide enough seclusion for a big mature buck to exist. One thing we had found was that there is no shortage of small bucks. This night was no different. We spotted deer about two miles off the road and could tell there were a few bucks in the group. A closer look would be needed. As we crested the last grassy knoll a group of 20 mule deer were feeding in front of us. Immediately my eye was caught by a buck harassing a doe who must have been in heat. He chased her back and forth across the field with ruthless authority. Again though, the buck was just not mature. With 4 points on each side many would put a tag on this buck. As a hunter I try to find mature bucks and let the little ones grow. If I don’t find one I’ll eat my tag or shoot a doe. As the sun faded this buck finally had pestered this doe long enough to be granted a quick mount. We headed back to the truck, mildly frustrated and hoping that hard work would eventually pay off. That night we drove over an hour on a rough dirt road accessing the far reaches of a peninsula secluded land.
As sun broke the horizon in the east a few deer could be seen grazing the rolling hills. Again only small bucks were visible. As I glassed the hills multiple truck and ATV tracks could be seen in the yellow grass. The area was closed to motor vehicles but we all know these signs mean nothing to some hunters. I had felt good about the area, but I was now questioning that thought. As I looked through the spotter Travis said he had seen three does further up the adjacent coulee.
I figured we could go take a quick look before heading back to the truck. As I slowly peeked over the ridge I instantly spotted a buck feeding. I dropped my pack and crawled up over the edge. As I raised up my binos I was instantly impressed. He was a narrow and tall 3×4. I had hoped to find a bigger buck but sometimes you just know when you’ve found your buck.
This buck was one that I’d gladly put my tag on and he was only 100 yards away, unaware and feeding in the shade. I snuck back to Travis and we quickly made a gameplan. As I crawled over the hill with gun in tow I found that a small buck had feed up towards our position and was intently staring up at our location. He finally disappeared and I thought he had gone back to feeding. I continued to crawl to a position where I could see down to the big buck.
As I finally slowly sat up I noticed the does looking up to my right. The small buck had circled to our right and had pinned us. He slowly trotted off. The does had taken note and anxiously glanced up at the ridge where we were quietly waiting. True to their nature the does began running up the hill. The buck followed and I quickly got my gun setup on my knee. The does stopped half way up the hill to look back (a tragic mistake for many mule deer). The buck stopped, the sun shining off his rack as he stared back at me. My crosshairs mildly shook over his vitals and I slowly squeezed the trigger. BOOM! The buck instantly dropped. The adrenaline quickly began to flow. We quickly gathered our gear and dropped down through the coulee to go take a look at my deer.
As soon as I layed my hands on him I knew I had made the right decision. This deer was a mature 3×4 with a narrow and tall rack. He was a handsome deer and his rutted up neck told us he was a dominant deer.
After getting some photos of him it was time to drag him down into the shade and begin the real work. As I quickly quartered him up I milled over the past few years and how they had all come down to this moment. So much effort had been put into this success. Finally the buck was de-boned and packed neatly against our NICE frames. It was time to load up and head back to the truck.
The load fit my back nicely and I felt like a million bucks. It was only a short mile and a half to the truck and the quiet hike gave me time to reminisce the past weeks of the hunting season.
When we finally made it to the truck it was time to lay the meat out in the shade to cool and crack a beer. Our annual mule deer trip had been a success and we kept the tradition alive by drinking only the finest, Keystone Light.
The trip was all we had hoped it would be. Two bucks in six days and memories for a lifetime. Tenderloins were cleaned and cooked and it was nice to relax and watch the sun set with no pressure to find deer.
As the sun set we began talking about next year and how we could make our trip next season even better. Plans are already slowly being etched into the calendars, and we can’t wait to return.
This past December we got the chance to collaborate with an amazing Bozeman based company, Seacat Creative. Seacat Creative owner, Mark Seacat, asked Zack and myself to put together a Sitka film from the footage he shot on Carmen Island with the Foss family. Mark captured some decent footage. We had 5 days to put the film together. Right away we had our hands full organizing foreign footage. This was our first time piecing together a film with video that we had not shot first hand.
Adam Foss and Steven Drake would be helping the process by helping create storyboards and recording voiceover. Adam Foss and Mark Seacat had a first person account of the whole desert sheep hunt, so their input was critical in the creation of Band of 3. The next week we spent most of our days working til 2am.
Zack busted out the main sequence, while I worked on audio, motion graphics, and titles for the film. The long nights were aided with numerous Salmon Fly Honey Rye beers and the Adam Foss favorite, a large batch of dark and stormy cocktails.
Finally after a grueling week, we were in the final stages of post production. The final cut turned into a film that intertwines hunting and conservation into one inspirational piece. Most people don’t know that we were the editors behind this piece. Below is Band of 3.
Early Sunday morning we loaded up the truck, and headed to Bozeman. The wind gusts pushed us east along I-90, and we sailed through bursts of snow and rain throughout the drive. It looked like we might be in for a cold couple of days of filming & fishing. Just before noon we stopped to fish a small stretch of the Clark Fork. The wind gusts and freezing temperatures made for slow fishing. We felt a couple tugs and even managed to fool a few small browns on a Parachute Adams before loading back up to finish the roadtrip to Bozeman.
We finally arrived at the Simms headquarters, and met with the rest of the filmmakers. All of the filmmakers were super friendly and cold PBRs were spread throughout the room. After a half an hour of chatting and waiting for the guides to finish piling in, it was time to get to business. The guides drew names out of a hat to decide who they would be filming with and we were paired up with Dan “Rooster” Leavens. Zack and I didn’t have the slightest clue who Rooster was, but we would spend the next 3 days filming his every move and learning the ways of the Rooster.
The next morning our 4:50AM alarm rang out, ducks quacking for me to awake. Zack and I gathered our gear scattered on the hotel floor and headed out into the cold, windy, snowy weather. Our destination was Twin Bridges, and we hoped we could get some early morning shots before meeting with the Rooster.
After a bitter cold morning of filming, we threw our frozen boots into the truck to de-thaw and finally made it to our destination, the Stonefly Inn & Outfitters. Rooster had coffee ready for us, and we sat down and talked for a good hour about hunting and fly fishing. We soon found out that Rooster had been sick throwing up all night. He blamed the pizza he ate the evening before and to compound the issue, his wife was also sick. A bug was going around, and we crossed our fingers that we wouldn’t be hit with the unfriendly sickness. Rooster was feeling better fortunately, and decided that not the weather nor the sickness would stop him from fishing. We grabbed Willy the chocolate lab, loaded the truck with camera gear, and finally made it to the river.
The morning consisted of a bunch of small browns and frozen fingers, leading us to move locations. That afternoon, the sun finally started to peak through the clouds. We got back onto the river and it wasn’t long before Rooster hooked his first nice brown trout of the trip. About an hour later and a few fly selection switches and a boss trout was hooked up. At first we didn’t know what it was, but as the fish came to the net, it was a nice 2-foot rainbow!
The rest of the day Rooster reeled in multiple nice fish and the vibe quickly began to swing into our favor. With a couple browns weighing in around the 20″ mark and a rainbow pushing 24 we called it a wrap for the day as Rooster had to go home and take care of his wife and children who had been fighting the sickness. Family comes first, and we had no objections to Rooster heading home before sundown. Zack and I spent the rest of the evening filming around town and captured some late afternoon timelapses.
Zack and myself stayed up until 2:30AM organizing our clips from Day 1, making sure we were on top of our game and ready to start editing the film the following evening. We got a few short hours of sleep and immediately were back up and firing up the cameras. We finalized our storyline with Rooster and moved over to the fly shop. After a broken fly rod, an obnoxious customer call, a spilled box of flies, and a flat tire, it was finally go time. Rooster started the morning drive to the river by saying, “can’t show the lions on the first day boys”. Little did we know he was not lying about “showing the lions”. Rooster proceeded to catch fish after fish consisting of large browns and chromed out rainbows. The footage was stacking and the shots were being logged. Rooster was starting to put on a show that any fisherman would appreciate. Helping us for the day were Rooster’s guides Gray, Bubba and Dave who added more punch to the fish fight.
With plenty of solid shots stored in the camera, we decided to hit some new water to finish the day. Rooster made his way below a small bridge and proceeded to catch fish after fish, throwing low, precise casts into the money spot. It was a truly remarkable sight, with the Stonefly guide peanut gallery watching the show go down from the bridge above.
We wrapped up the day with dry fly eats on chernobyls, brown trout to the face, and an amazing steak dinner. From here on out it was coffee, Monsters, and no sleep. This was a chance that we had to take full advantage of. You are not given opportunities like the Simms Shoot Out very often and we were here to win. This was our chance to show that we can run with the best in the biz and we began the long process of crushing two days worth of fish into a 6 minute film.
Before we knew it the film was in its final stages of production. The sun was rising and Rooster was waiting to check out the latest cut of video. Rooster gave us some final input and before we knew it the video was exported and we were driving to the Simm’s headquarters to turn in our film.
We relaxed the rest of the day and fished a local river the following morning with our friend Tom Urell. The streamer fishing was hot, with fish attacking the streamers most of the day. No monsters were brought to the net, but we had a blast fishing the local Bozeman holes. Later that evening we watched all four submissions of the Simms Shoot Out at the Ellen theater.
After the films kicked off it was a nervous half an hour before I saw the Montana Wild logo flash up on the backdrop and the rest is history. We had won the Shoot Out!!!!
We spent the rest of the night celebrating with new friends and somehow managed to not spend all $2,000 at the bars. We woke the next morning, packed our bags and headed back to Missoula. That evening we found ourselves hiking 6 miles back into the backcountry…. Be looking for our next blog post about Stan’s amazing bear hunt.
I wanted to give a big shoutout to Dan “Rooster” Leavens for being such an amazing guide and host, and Dana Leavens for letting us steal Rooster for a couple days and allowing us to sleep at the Stonefly Inn. Dan loves to fish and he has a great family and group of guides. Thanks Bubba, Dave, and Grey for your antics and not so helpful music suggestions. We hope we can work with Dan in the future and hopefully the friendship we made will last for a very long time.
Below is our winning submission to the 2013 Simms Shoot Out!!![vimeo https://vimeo.com/65079211 w=580&h=440]
My first time hearing about the Simms SHOOT OUT was in 2011, where I got my first glimpse at a fly fishing film competition. I wanted to compete in the SHOOT OUT one day, and the thought stuck in the back of my mind. In 2012 we were disappointed when we had heard that the 2012 SHOOT OUT filmakers had already been chosen, and once again sat back and watched the videos that were released. Last year really motivated us to kick some ass and get into the 2013 SHOOT OUT. Here we are mid-April and the moment we have been waiting for has finally come. We are stoked to have the opportunity to be one of four film makers competing in the Simms SHOOT OUT!
Zack and I are dedicated to putting together an amazing video. The competition requires us to film with one Simms guide for 2 days, and then 24 hours to put the video together. The interesting part is we will not know who we are filming with until the night before our first filming day. We are excited and cannot wait for the event to start!
We head out for Bozeman this morning. Make sure to follow our daily behind the scenes SHOOT OUT photos on Instagram @montanawild! We will be giving our viewers a behind the scenes look at what is going on so everyone can stay in the loop. Also you will get your chance on Thursday/Friday April 25th & 26th to vote for your favorite SHOOT OUT film via text message. Stay tuned!!!