Updates on travels, adventures and news from Jess McGlothlin Media.
I’ve crossed paths with Montana artist Ethan Markie many times over the past decade. It’s been a pleasure to get to know him a bit, and to watch his art flourish. In this recent profile for American Angler, Ethan talks about his creative process, the bright, high-contrast colors he chooses to use, and—of course—a bit of fishing. Pick up the latest issue of American Angler and give it a read!
Excited to see this piece about freshwater stand-up paddleboard fishing republished on Men’s Journal. In “A Beginner’s Guide to Freshwater SUP Fishing” I aimed to cover may of the questions I’ve gotten at boat ramps and on rivers / lakes around the West. Why use a SUP for fishing? How do you cast without falling off? How do you keep from stepping on your rod when passing through fast-moving water? How do you manage fish once you’ve hooked into something? What SUP is best for fishing?
I’ve outlined the basics in this piece, and illustrated a few points with images from a fantastic SUP camping / bass fishing trip a few summers ago with friends Marty and Mia Sheppard from Little Creek Outfitters on Oregon’s John Day River.
What other SUP fishing questions are burning your brain? What’s keeping you from hopping on a board and trying it out?
It was a great pleasure to escape into the backcountry just north of Yellowstone National Park a few summers ago and spend some time riding rough country, chilling around campfires and—of course—chasing fish. The Yellowstone cutthroat are truly a special species, and hands-down one of the more fun fish I’ve chased in recent years.
I was recently able to put together a little write-up to run alongside images from the trip for Big Life Magazine. The gang at Absaroka-Beartooth Outfitters are truly top-notch; Lonny, Cameron, and the entire gang have a way of making the backcountry feel very much like home. See the rest of the story here (toggle right to view the entire feature).
Here’s a brief snippet from the piece:
Sitting around the fire, comfortably ensconced on a dusty bed of dried pine needles, I look around at my companions. Most could have readily stepped from the screen of a John Wayne movie. Cameron and Lonny sit comfortably in their camp chairs, Cameron in the midst of telling some grand ranching tale, hand gestures and all. Lonny looks remarkably at home, and it’s no wonder, really. Her family has been running sheep in these mountains for generations, and she has the stories to prove it. For her, this is as much home as anywhere.
The wranglers are a wild bunch all their own; good guys who I would want by my side at any adventure. Seasoned ranch hand Patrick also runs a small-town bar (the Grizzly Bar in Roscoe, Montana) with his wife. Tall Jacob is a third-generation Montanan who competes in rodeo events when he’s not working the family ranch or in the backcountry. And young Jeremiah brings a quick whit and good tales from the annual Miles City Bucking Horse Sale.
It’s a motley crew, but the conversation is real, flowing freely around the flickering fire. We laugh when a mouse jumps from the log behind me into my lap before scurrying off into the blackness surrounding us. Just another creature that calls this place home, and will continue to do so long after we make the long ride back to civilization.
But for the moment, we grin and laugh in the darkness, eyes flashing and the bottle of whiskey catching the firelight as it’s passed around. For the moment, the rest of the world fades away and we’re newfound friends on an adventure; breathing clean air and watching the stars wheel overhead, tucked safely in the wilderness. And perhaps that’s the odd magic of it all; we’ve all gathered to chase a fish, to stalk through high mountain creek and ply clear waters for cutthroat. Once again, angling brought together an unexpected group of people and made an improbable clan of them.
There are no moose in Bull Moose Camp. There are, however, plenty of cowboys, horses, mules, and a curious supply of rather good boxed wine.
Six years ago, I spent a season up on Montana’s Missouri River, working at Headhunters Fly Shop as “shop rat.” Days were spent staffing the chicken coop-come-fly shop, running shuttles for visiting guides and anglers, and—in rare moments off—exploring the Missouri and trying to discover the secrets of one of the most famous trout fisheries in the world.
It was a long, hot summer with its fair share of both adventures and misadventures (chronicled here in detail on ChiWulff’S Dispatches From Craig series). I learned a boatload (pun fully intended), carried my camera everywhere, managed my second bout with giardiasis, and slept on an old camping cot in a small studio apartment across from the post office in nearby Cascade, Montana. It was a summer of learning—I listened, I shot photos daily, and I wrote constantly. Really, all there was to do was fish, talk fishing, write, shoot, and anticipate my bi-monthly runs up to Great Falls for groceries.
It was awesome.
It’s been a long, weird road in the six years since that summer. Somehow I’ve now traveled to work on six continents, and photographed things I never would have dreamed of. I’ve walked the back entrance to Petra and slept outside in the Wadi Rum during a sandstorm. I’ve woken to a hippo in the middle of camp at midnight while on assignment in rural Kenya, and marveled at dangerously large night skies wheeling overhead on the northern edge of Australia. The adventures are there if you make them happen, and I’m forever grateful for the incredible people I meet along the way.
There’s something to be said for returning to the familiar places, though. This past weekend I headed up to Craig, to spend some time on the waters I’d learned the summer of ’13. Meeting me up at our old haunts was Jake Gates, who some of you may remember reading about over the years with his trout-savvy Border Collie Marley. Jake and I both worked the shop that summer, and when a skittish stray dog that no one claimed came into our lives, I don’t think either of us would have believed Marley would still be around six years later, still haunting Jake’s steps on the river.
Jake’s lovely parents were in town from Hawai’i, and his girlfriend Lynsey came along as well, crafting a fitting reunion on the banks of the Missouri. We fished for two days, talking about the old times and planning for new adventures (stay tuned… good things in the works!). The Missouri gave us the traditional late-season conditions—technical fish, windy weather and glorious scenery.
One night I sat crouched on the bank, camera held to my eye as I watched Jake cast at a pod of risers. The river behind him was changing from golden to shades of purple as the sun dropped below the horizon. Marley was hunkered not too far up the bank, her gaze fixed on the fish and following the drift of the dry flies with unerring intensity. The wind was whipping and the temperature dropping.
And it was grand.
I’d argue that you can’t really go home. (I don’t know where I’d call home anyway, these days.) But sometimes you can go back. And those moments are special.
It was really fun to pull together this series of social media posts for fly-fishing line, leader, and tippet manufacturer Scientific Anglers. SA gear has always worked well for me, and the new saltwater lines, leaders and tippet I tested on this trip held up to queenfish, mackerel, giant trevally, barramundi, mangrove snapper and more! As always, good gear makes the difference.
Things are beginning to feel a little autumnal around Missoula. Mornings are cooler, the sun rises later and sets earlier (rather ominous for the long winter to come) and as I sit in my little apartment typing this, a drizzly rain has started to fall. Fog is rolling over the mountains, and it’s looking like dusk at 7PM.
Winter, as they say, is coming.
In strict defiance of the grey season to come, I woke early this morning and put the drone up in the air above one of my favorite local fishing access sites. Made a few new friends at the boat ramp as guide trips rolled in to put on the water, and was admittedly caught off guard by the amount of underbrush that’s already changing color.
I’m having fun learning the ins-and-outs of the drone system, and am excited to get it on the road in a few weeks on assignment in Australia (stay tuned—it’s going to be awesome).
Nearly two years ago, I packed the bags and headed west—so far west, in fact, that I landed in the Far East. My journey to the northern island of Japan was for one specific fish: “golden” char—char that turn a unique golden color thanks to the unique environment of mighty Lake Akan. The trip was a success, 
despite missile tests from neighboring North Korea and an untimely typhoon (the underwater housing came in handy in unexpected ways while wandering through the small village in the middle of the storm!). Several golden char came to hand, as well as many healthy, wild, big rainbow trout.
Pick up the latest issue of American Angler Magazine and see what else I found in the Land of the Rising Sun.