ARGENTINA’S SPRING CREEK LODGE: A week of learning life skills from fishing guides

Patagonia has long been a name whispered with reverence among anglers, and northern Argentina’s spring creeks and rivers are at the heart of that legend. Vast cattle ranches, snowcapped volcanoes, and a patchwork of trout-filled waters create an atmosphere that feels both familiar and utterly wild. In the piece that follows, writer and photographer Jess McGlothlin captures this unique sense of place, reflecting on the rivers, the guides, and the timeless rhythm of life at Spring Creek Lodge in Junín de los Andes. It is a story not only of trout and travel, but of the universal connections found along rivers worldwide.

BY JESS MCGLOTHLIN - https://www.instagram.com/jess_mcglothlin_media/

After sixteen years spent trotting around the globe with a camera in one hand and a fly rod in the other, I’ve come to a few conclusions. One, something - even just a single tiny little detail - will ring familiar in every place. Maybe the coffee tastes similar to a cup I had once somewhere else. Maybe the air smells just a bit like it does at home in Montana in the summer heat. Maybe the way the dirt puffs behind a truck bumping down a dirt road reminds me of childhood farm work. Something, some little detail, will make a new place feel like home.

And two, I’ve concluded that fishing guides will be, well, fishing guides. It takes a certain type of person to spend every day out on the water, managing guests and weather and the water itself, and still emerge sane at the end of every season. Regardless of the country, the language spoken, or the continent on which we might happen to be fishing, line up a row of civilians and guides and I can pretty much promise you’ll be able to spot the guide every time.

Maybe it’s cliché, this familiarity in certain aspects of fly fishing. Maybe it’s tribal, the way we seem to find each other and the way we all have immediate common ground because we decide to stand in various bodies of water and use sticks, line, hooks, and feathers to try and fool fish. We all find each other, somehow, and there’s a sort of wonderful familiarity about it all. Maybe that’s why Argentina feels so much like home.

The Place: Home, But Not Home

For years I’d heard anglers in my home state of Montana say that Argentine Patagonia feels like the Big Sky State did forty, fifty, or even sixty years ago. They’d say that it is still a land of sweeping cattle ranches; open country cut by big rivers under even bigger skies. I never really understood the sentiment until I headed to Argentina myself and set foot in northern Patagonia.

Trade the Toyota Hilux trucks for Ford pickups, add in a few cowboy bars with Coors signs in the windows, swap out maté for dark cowboy coffee, and you might well be in Montana. There are certainly enough locals rigging fly rods in pull-outs along the road to make it feel familiar. The week I visit SET’s Spring Creek Lodge near the town of Junín de los Andes, there’s a summer wildfire raging in the distance, the scent of smoke heavy in the air, nearly obscuring the looming form of Volcano Lanín. If I close my eyes and listen to the distant thumpthump of the helicopters dumping water on the fire, I could well be in western Montana during a summer fire season.

The region the Spring Creek team fishes could readily be called a trout angler’s paradise.

The variety of fishable water makes me feel like a kid in a candy shop; there are simply too many rivers and not enough time. One day we fish a nearby reservoir, the next day brings an overnight float on the lush Río Chimehuin. The Aluminé River feels like classic trout water, and the Collón Curá River brings sharply to mind the Missouri River in Montana, thanks to its sweeping, open landscapes and bounty of trout game to rise to a fly.

But it’s the river we fish on the last day - the Upper Río Chimehuin - which truly wins my heart to this part of Argentina. The upper stretch is tightly lined with trees, the river itself full of bouncy pocket water with plenty of boulders and smaller rapids. It’s technical, it’s fun, and I grin like an idiot for much of the day as I slide streamers and big, foamy terrestrials underneath low-hanging branches on the bank. I miss some, I land some, and in a fitting farewell to the river, one of the biggest fish of the day comes right at the boat ramp.

The Guides: Universal Language

One of my favourite parts about this job is getting to meet and work with guides around the world. Everyone fishes and teaches differently, and I’m able to learn a little something (and sometimes a big something) from every guide I’m able to spend time on the water with. And while we fish and make images through the day, there’s plenty of time to talk about the place, the people, and maybe a little industry gossip on the side. It’s all part of that universal language: guide talk.

The guide team at Spring Creek Lodge is diverse, entertaining, and talented. The lodge pairs anglers with a different guide and driver most days, which allows guests to experience different guide styles and – hopefully - to learn something new each day. It’s a system that keeps everyone fresh and engaged.

I’m lucky enough to fish with four different guides throughout my stay, each with their own fishing style, artistic flair, and their own stories. A common theme amongst the four? These are professionals - men who know these rivers well, and who know how to set us up for a successful day.

Head guide Gonzalo “Gonza” Flego, a charismatic local with a mind for business and a wildly fishy intuition, heads for reservoir the first day. The next two days, we’re paired up for an overnight float on the Río Chimehuin. Despite very windy conditions we find plenty of rainbows and nicely-sized brown trout, some fish giving us aggressive takes, and others barely mouthing the fly.

A day on the Aluminé River brings me time with Diego Cortez, where we discover our shared equestrian backgrounds and promptly spend much of the fishing day talking about horse training while listening to reggae music and tossing streamers at big brown trout. Floating through the native reservation brings to mind days floating through Montana Indian reservations; with the same sheep, cattle, goats, and dogs roaming freely. Again, if I close my eyes I’d feel like I was right back in my home state, some 6,500 miles north.

The next day brings on the Collón Curá River with guide Facu Sanchez, starting with maté in the car on the drive to the river. I’m greeted with a grin and a, “I hear you like streamers.” Apparently, rumour has gotten around, as it tends to do at lodges, and we decide streamers are a good plan for the day. The sky turns rust-colored midday through the wildfire smoke, and we bring in a veritable boatload of rainbows and a few browns throughout the course of a relaxed day.

My final day is the Upper Río Chimehuin with guide Facu Tizzano. An excellent teacher (and a Jiu Jitsu black belt and instructor when he’s not on the water), Tizzano keeps a loaded water squirt gun at the ready as incentive: I miss a fish, I get squirted. It’s a fun, effective reminder to stay on my toes. The Upper Río Chimehuin winds us through lush trees and boulder-strewn riffles, and we pull out plenty of browns and rainbows. By the time we reach the take-out—this one located less than three minutes from my cabin - I’m regretting the fact it’s my last day in Argentina this trip and already brainstorming ways to return.

The Overnight Float: Memorable Highlights

One of the highlights of the Spring Creek Lodge program is the overnight float.

Each week, guests are divided into smaller groups and get to experience a two-day float on the Río Chimehuin with a camping stop midway. Coming from a do-it-yourself upbringing in Montana, where camping means setting up our own tents and cooking our own food over the fire, this camp set the bar high.

A gear boat team is sent ahead to set up camp, complete with roomy tents holding cots and side tables, a generator, a cook tent, dining tent, and even a shower and bathroom. “Glamping” was the word that came to mind; the angler’s job is to drop their bags at their tent, get comfortable, and enjoy a cocktail while the asado is cooked. Rest, relax, and chat around the fire.

After a remarkable dinner of a seemingly-endless supply of glorious Argentine meats, we hunker around the campfire and hot coals are carefully dropped underneath each camp chair. This is a new tradition to me, and one I’ll remember for future chilly-night campfires: the sensation of having a glowing source of heat directly under oneself is spa-like. The camp team slips hot water bottles into our sleeping bags, and by the time everyone retires we’re warm, stomachs full, and eager for the morning hours to come so we can continue fishing.

Morning brings coffee, maté, and breakfast, and then we simply load up our gear, push the rafts off, and start fishing.

There’s no break-down of the camp; the camp and the camp team remain, waiting for the next group of guests to arrive that evening. It’s efficient, relaxed, and a memorable addition to a week of fishing, Argentine-style.

Home Base: Spring Creek Lodge

After long days on the water, Spring Creek Lodge itself provides a welcome “rest and recover” touchpoint. The lodge sports an array of cabins and even full-size homes to accommodate various groups of guests, and while the rooms are gorgeously furnished and exceedingly comfortable, it’s the main house which is the central hub of activity.

Every fishing lodge has one: a central gathering place where anglers gather at the end of the fishing day to enjoy a cocktail, trade stories, and refuel with a hearty dinner before retiring to bed and recharging for the next day of fishing. SET’s main house is cozy and airy, centred around a bustling bar with handcrafted cocktails served by Juana and Joel. The true highlight of the lodge, however, must be the food. SET’s culinary team leans heavily into fresh, local ingredients, crafting finely-balanced meals, incredible homemade breads, and elegant desserts. There’s often a post-dinner fire outside the building, though many anglers opt to dine and dash, returning to their beds to get some sleep before the next day of fishing.

The Argentine Experience

I’d always rolled my eyes a bit when people would say that fishing Patagonia is like fishing Montana in “the good old days.” Now I don’t. Now I know it’s a place that feels oddly like home; a place that smells like wildfire smoke in the summer, where roadside pull-outs are filled with fishermen rigging rods, where the brown trout of a lifetime might be waiting around the next bend.

Every fly angler should make time in their life to find their way down to Patagonia. I can’t promise it’ll feel like home, but I can promise that, in one way or another, you’ll find the trip worthwhile. And that you’ll find something - even if it’s small - that feels familiar.

For more information, please visit www.setflyfishing.com/en/fly-fishing-patagonia/spring-creek-lodge/