Today as I travel to Baja, I’m giving a shout out for a longtime friend and mentor, David Lambroughton.  Dave has made a living in fly fishing through guiding, teaching, writing and his incredible photography.  If you’re looking for your 2024 wall calendar, look no further.  You can order his “Fly Fishing Dreams” calendar by emailing Dave at:

davidlambroughton@telus.net

In addition to encouraging everyone to pick up one of Dave’s 2024 calendar, I thought it would be fun to include the story of how we met back in 1982.  Enjoy!

 

1982

Back in the 1970’s there wasn’t a parent that didn’t want their kid to grow up and be a doctor, lawyer or president of some big company.  Fortunately my mom figured me out early and didn’t pressure me about the impossible. Dad however, was crushed whenever my report cards came out.  My grades were bad.

 

I was a country kid growing up in Massachusetts.  For me most school classes were boring.  I liked gym and loved art class.  As for the rest, once I learned to read and do basic arithmetic I was done.  My reason for school was to hang out with friends.  I limped my way along fly fishing every chance I got; however opportunities were limited due to serving numerous detentions for sketching on school desks.

 

Once dad figured me out he eased his expectations.  He just wanted me to use my brain to some capacity where someday I could make a living.  Dad knew college was important and wanted me to go.  He didn’t care what I went for, dad just wanted me to go.  At the beginning of tenth grade getting accepted to college seemed impossible so dad threw me a grade improving bone.  If I averaged C’s or better he would take me fly fishing to the Yellowstone area.

 

I’d been to Yellowstone a few years earlier and I knew the National Park was trout fishing paradise.  Because that trip was a “family vacation” dad didn’t let me pack a fly rod.  It was torturous seeing the fly fishers scattered throughout the park.  Now average grades could put me there.

 

For the remainder of high school my grades improved.  It wasn’t like I suddenly enjoyed personally useless subjects like trigonometry, but I was smarter than we thought.  If I put my mind to something, I could get it done.  In 1982, summer after eleventh grade, my grades were good enough to get accepted to a college.  Dad kicked in his half of our bargain and we set off for Yellowstone.

 

Dad loved cross country drives so we left Massachusetts on the 5,000 mile journey in late June.  My younger brother had good grades too so he was with.  Three days later we arrived in West Yellowstone just as the rivers were clearing up from the runoff.  The very first morning we hauled for Biscuit Basin and soon I was a sixteen year old kid presenting flies to rising trout on the Firehole.

 

Western fishing was new for us and challenging but just like I figured out how to get good grades, I figured out the sometimes persnickety Yellowstone trout.  I have a lot of great memories of that trip but one that stands out was when dad booked a fishing guide.

 

Hiring a guide wasn’t in dad’s budget.  But like getting good grades was hard on me, catching that one great fish was eluding dad.  Here he was in Yellowstone Country with his boys, likely for the one and only time.  Dad decided to splurge.  We walked into the Madison River Fly Fishing Company and booked a guide.  That guide was David Lambroughton.

 

Dave guided us on the lower Madison River from the McAtee Bridge to the Varney Bridge.  Believe it or not, my fly rod on that trip was a 7 ½ foot Orvis “Battenkill” Impregnated Bamboo.  I’d inherited the collective fly rod from my grandfather.  Dave took one look at my Orvis and was the second of many that trip to tell me I shouldn’t be using that fly rod.  But the bamboo was my only option and I went on to learn how to cast it about twenty feet further from some helpful tips from Dave.

 

We had the Madison virtually to ourselves that day.  These days that’s unheard of.  What’s more mind-blowing is that we hit the full on salmon fly hatch.  Target a salmon fly hatch in this era and there could be a hundred boats on any given western river.  We caught fish all day long and dad caught his elusive big trout for the trip.

 

We were lucky to get Dave that day.  Dave was one of Yellowstone’s top fly fishing guides.  He was full of knowledge and he taught us a ton.  Dave was well travelled and his stories of monster trout in New Zealand engrossed us.  Dave was an amazing photographer.  Did some writing and plenty more.  Dave was making a career out of fly fishing.

 

After we said goodbye to Dave, we fished another eight days and never hit the same place twice.  We waded various sections of the Madison; hit the Gibbon, hiked into Slough Creek and the list goes on.  The adventure will go down as one of the best fishing trips of my life.  But it wasn’t only the fishing that made that trip.  This expedition was an eyeopener for me and dad.  Perhaps I could move west and make a living in fly fishing?

 

On the long drive back to Massachusetts I announced to dad that as soon as I was done with school I’d be moving west.

“After college”, dad clarified with a smile.

“A deal’s a deal.  A done deal at that!”, I exclaimed.

 

In May of 1987, the actual day I graduated from Northland College in Wisconsin, I drove west in my old Dodge Aspen and began my career in fly fishing at the Jack Dennis Fly Shop in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

Dad had a personal fishing guide out west for the rest of his life!

Though it would be years before I crossed paths with Dave Lambroughton again, we finally did and been friends since.

I’d guided dad in New Zealand in 2001.

I’m still in the fly fishing industry and fishing and traveling almost constantly.

The rest is history!

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing