Howler Privateer Dispatch: Week 1 & 2
The mission was simple: heed the call. Since leaving Howler HQ on June 4th, our 2026 Privateers Joe Buceti and Graham Mcalister have been chasing fish, meeting good people, sleeping in questionable places, and collecting stories across the American West. Their first dispatch from the road has officially landed. Be sure you’re following along live on Instagram or TikTok!
We arrived in Austin, Texas and were greeted with a warm, warm welcome from both the Howler team and the weatherman. After signing some paperwork we don’t remember, popping champagne, and receiving a very brief “tour” of the van, we set off. Leaving Austin and the Howler fam was tougher than we thought, and putting those first few miles on the van was surreal. Stop one was a heavily anticipated one, as we were off to meet the lovely mayor of Blanco, TX, Candy Cargill! Candy was a gem of a human, and the small town of Blanco is lucky to have her. We said our goodbyes to Candy, Hotel Henry, and Blanco, and began our drive north. Seeing those gas flares was sick, but realizing our route was littered with them heavily reduced that sick factor. After what felt like forever we cruised into camp at Lake Sumner, New Mexico, and passed out.
Breathing the dust of barren, desert roads for hundreds of miles had our minds set on the lush landscape of Colorado. We arrived late afternoon in Durango, and after following the Animas river through town, we were eager to get our lines wet. Two bison burgers and 500 dollars spent at the fly shop later, we made our way to a public river access just before dark. We turned a couple large fish but had no luck with eats. Before we knew it, the sky was dark, and we were without a plan for lodging. We tried the local Walmart lot, but they didn’t seem too keen on our stay. Eventually we found ourselves among the truckers at the Maverick, where we were serenaded to sleep by the sounds of the McDonalds drive-thru and burning diesel fumes.
Waking up at camp in San Juan Island National Park was nothing short of magical, and for the time being, we were pretty stoked to have acquired a new van companion, Mickey the mouse. We already had our rods rigged from the previous evening, and started our hike down the creek in search of hungry, native cutties. We hiked a little too far, and stumbled upon Yogi the bear’s dinner remains. We caught our fair share of natives, packed up camp and started our route to Crested Booty, Colorado. Patrick Duke, Howler’s Colorado-based ambassador and painting wiz, welcomed our arrival with a shot of tequila and some cherries. We packed some painting goodies into the van, and Pat came along to direct us to one of his favorite lookouts. The view and the altitude were breathtaking. We did our best to heed the advice of Pat, but our low paint IQ proved to be a hindering factor. Painting really works up your appetite, and unfortunately by the time we finished our masterpieces, all the food establishments in town were closed. We settled for microwave rice served in the hotel coffee cups. Deeelish.
It was an easy wake-up the next morning. We knew we’d be fishing all day, and were ready to get away from our truck stop “hotel.” We’d been in contact with Rob Peper, a local guide and Howler fanatic, who was kind enough to take us for a float trip on the Animas. The day started slow with little luck, but as the sun began to warm the water, the fish followed. No trophy browns, but we had our first couple fish landed in the boat which was enough to keep our spirits up. And after whipping around streamers all day, our arms were begging for a break. We were ready to set out for camp, and the word around town was that Hermosa Creek was a must for fly fisherman, sightseers, and anyone with an eye for a beautifully remote campsite. The drive itself was enough to get your jaw dropping; windy dirt roads along a wide open valley plain. The creek was skinny and shallow but had holes just deep enough to hold some of the most colorful fish we had ever seen. Our set-up for camp was brief but swift. We fished until the stars were shining above our heads and returned to camp satisfied, each leaving the creek with a handful of native fish caught.
We then drove the Million Dollar Highway, spent a hundred dollars on gas, and about forty dollars on the largest burritos we’ve seen. The contents of these burritos are still a mystery to us, but they were big enough for it not to matter. Colby Crossland, Howler Ambassador from Dutch John, Utah, has to have one of the coolest, coziest houses we’ve stepped foot in. He gave us a quick tour of his town whose population is 20 people give or take, and introduced us to his mystery elixirs of Everclear, pine needles, and other ingredients that really give it that delightful ‘burn.’ Knowing we had minimal time before dark, we booked it down to the river for some last light casts with the hopes of hooking a monster, but left humbled and empty-handed.
Our time in Utah was short and sweet. We would have pulled giants out of the Green for weeks if we could, but our route pointed us further north to Jackson, Wyoming. After about a week of van camping, early evenings, and late night drives, we were ready to experience some night life. We parked the van at an RV park close to town, grabbed a bite to eat, and eventually found ourselves at the infamous Cowboy Bar. Two kind, older ladies offered up a seat at their table, and we happily accepted. Country music filled the bar, and the footwork of the younger folk followed onto the dance floor. It was obvious that dancing was something these locals had been raised on, but we could not relate. Our newly found friends took us by the hand and showed us the basics, but it sure wasn’t pretty. We eventually took our seats, just slightly embarrassed by our lack of coordination. After a beer or two (or three), we danced our way out of the bar and back to camp.
The TETONSSSS! We drove into the Tetons from Jackson, and hopped on a boat where the captain conned us across Jenny Lake. We hiked for what felt like just a little bit, but ended up way past our destination which was hidden falls. We grabbed a few flicks of the Tetons, then backtracked to find the falls. Joe was gung ho on recreating a picture in front of the falls he took with his grandparents 11 years prior (success!). We dodged the dicey weather coming in from behind the Tetons by a toe hair.
Arriving at South Fork Lodge was highly anticipated, and our expectations were greatly exceeded. The staff was welcoming and accommodating, more so than we could have imagined. Dinner that night was a TREAT. Ribs, beef cheek, mac & cheese, beers, and a bunch of other dishes that we forgot, absolutely hit the spot. Following dinner, we took our 15 year old friend, Frigate, down to the boat launch to do some night fishing. Ourselves along with Wyatt and Paul had quite the time down there chucking streamers, catching whities, and punishing our whitie by-catches with swigs of rum. We stayed up a little too long, but we’d do it again.
Waking up in the lodge was a big scenery change for us. We didn’t wake up hot or cold, to the sounds of semi trucks, or to a mouse eating our last bag of goldfish. Instead, we woke up ready to fish. After breakfast, we were linked up with a dude named Colin. Colin works at the fly shop and has to be one of the “fishiest” guys we’ve ever met. The only problem was Colin didn't have a truck, but luckily the van was a more than capable interim truck. We stole the shop drift boat (shoppie), and dropped in further up the Snake River. We did well, landing a handful of cutties and a few good browns. All of these fish were netted by the shoppie's resident net, a net made from an old lacrosse goalie stick, which we found to be pretty rad. Dinner was a chef’s kiss, and due to it being cold on the dinner lawn, we had a couple hotty toddies to go.
Friday was all about our first happy hour at the South Fork Lodge fly shop. We drove forty minutes to the nearest grocery store to stock up on burger makings, and then got to work. We fired up the grill and served up dozens of burgs for some local legends, guides, and anyone who wanted to come out for some gear and a chat. To follow up the festivities, we met Howler Ambassadors Curt Hamby and Oliver White at the machete bar for some drinks and checked off some Ambassor Scavenger Hunt boxes. To say we didn’t feel a little star struck would be a lie. Oliver, alongside Curt, are two anglers who we’ve grown up watching feature videos on, so it was surreal to share a drink with them. Just another reminder of the greatness that this job has bestowed upon us.
The next morning we took the van down some dusty, dirt roads to reach a section of nearby Bear Creek, where we wetted our lines one last time before leaving Idaho. And man did it not disappoint. It was cutthroat paradise: big ones, little pretty ones, and anything in between. Safe to say our fishing itch was gone, and we were ready to get back on the road. To the state of Idaho, ya’ll drive like crazy, but man you have a beautiful place to call home.
Our original route had us driving southwest through Oregon and into California until we saw Bend had a pretty legit river wave. Knowing we needed that box checked, we turned the van north, and arrived in Bend late afternoon. Let us preface by saying that if you saw us attempt the river wave that day, no you didn’t. Years of surf instructing, countless sessions behind the boat, big waves, small waves, none of it mattered. Nothing had us prepared for how difficult surfing a river wave would be. We both attempted it a few times but after putting an open gash in the nose of Graham’s only board he packed, we had to call it. We won’t say who put the ding in there, but let’s just say that person will be buying the epoxy repair kit. With our egos shattered, we drove a few miles out of Bend and found a spot deep in the woods near the Cascades.
♫ ♪ Music, Please ♪ ♫
We've got thousands of miles to cover this summer and a whole lot of van time between adventures. If you've got a road trip anthem, hidden gem, or absolute heater we need to hear, toss it onto our collaborative Spotify playlist. We'll be listening.
