Black Fishday - Northern Edition

The day started out like any good Black Fishday should - cold, snowy, foggy, with slick roads. We headed south and east from Wenatchee to fish one of the ditches we had visited a couple years ago. Approaching George, the ice fog was so thick we could barely see where to turn to head towards the freeway, and though the roads weren't bad, there were a number of cars that slid off the road the night before (like the UW marching band bus near George the night before; too bad for the Cougars it wasn't the UW football team's bus that slid off the road...). We took a break for breakfast, and by the time we hit the ditch, it was a balmy 38 degrees or so, almost tropical compared to the 18 degrees from our last visit.

The #7 meal pays off again!

The first deep run was full of large fish, at least a dozen 15 to 20 inches that we could see, but they quickly spooked and weren't interested in our flies, so we started downstream. As with the previous visit, we saw many good sized fish, that seemingly spooked when we were 50 yards away, and caught the little guys that weren't yet as wise. The water was quite a bit lower than our last visit, so it was hard to tell if there were fewer fish, or they were just more easily spooked. We fished about a mile and a half of the ditch, and found fish mostly all along, but not in nearly as great a number as our previous visit.

A pretty day fishing the ditches

We we considering fishing all the way to another road crossing, but just past halfway there, Tom realized he was missing his second rod from his fancy Fishpond pack. And not his cheap Okuma reel/TFO rod (like I fish with all the time). It was his Sage/Ross. Ouch. The clip holding it in had come out earlier, and this time he didn't realize it came off for a long time. So we turned around to see if we could by chance find it somewhere in the thick grass along the banks. We searched where he had fallen in a hole with no luck, so I suggested a point a few hundred yards upstream where he slid into the water when crossing below a hole where I was fishing. Success! After a bit of searching he found it buried in the grass. Our spirits were bright despite the mediocre fishing and the steady rain that was now coming down. They were about to get brighter.

Back at our starting point, there was one thing left to do - Tom had to catch a fish from the bridge. Casting from 25 feet above the water into a bit of a wind was hard, but Tom finally got the correction right for how the line drifted to the right as it settled and dropped it right in the channel where we could see a good-sized albino trout feeding. No luck from the albino, but he did get a decent little guy.

The traditional bridge fish

With success from the bridge, we were about ready to leave, but I encourage him to throw a few more casts towards the bigger fish. The albino continued to ignore his fly, but a couple casts later, he hooked a big boy (or I should say, girl, as you will see in the photo later). With his 5x tippet, he passed on my suggestion to just lift it up like he had the last one, and instead handed me his rod while he climbed down to the streamside below the bridge. Once there, we executed a masterful pass of the rod while keeping as much tension as possible on the line. I reached the tip down so he could hold the line and keep tension, then I pulled line out of the reel and lowered the rod to him. He let me get tension on the fish again and reeled in the slack, and finally I let go of the line and Tom quickly took in the little bit of slack. I then climbed down and netted his fish, a 20-inch beast!

A big fish is always a reason for a big smile, especially when caught from a bridge

While taking the picture she proceeded to drop a ton of eggs - a fall spawning rainbow! That's a new one for us.

Uh, your fish is losing something Tom. It's about a half pound lighter than the previous photo.

So to sum up, a good, not great day (at least until the bridge at the end!). Most fish on small buggers/leeches, a few on a scud. The big lady was on a snowcone red chironomid, which was also a popular fly today drifted from above alongside the bank. Though we were hundreds of miles away from Rob, it was good that see that all the Merrill boys were able to have a successful Black Fishday!

Black Fish-day: Southern Utah edition

The day after Thanksgiving is Black Friday for some, but Black Fish-day for Merrill boys.  Since we were in Southern Utah we decided we could leave after dinner yesterday and drive home to fish with Rick and Tom, or we could just make the 20-minute drive to Leeds Creek.  Proximity won out so off we went late this morning to Leeds and the namesake creek flowing from the northern slopes of Pine Valley Mountain.

It was a beautiful sunny day with temps in the 60's.  Probably a bit more comfortable for us than for Rick and Tom today, who frequently are out in the snow, sleet, hail, or rain doing their best to avoid hypothermia.  Company was good today and the fish were cooperative though the creek was brushy.

Helping Jeff into the brush, er, creek

With me were Natalie's husband Brad and his dad, Jeff who fished with me in Wenatchee when they visited in June.  Leeds Creek is a brushy creek and the section we fished today was no exception.  I had a Renegade on, no surprise, Jeff a Royal Wulff, and Brad with an elk-hair caddis.  We all wanted visible flies.  Sometimes that was to be able to see them on the water and other times it was to find it in the trees.

Jeff watching the fly

We climbed into the creek and after fighting a bit of brush Brad & I had caught a couple of the beautiful Bonneville cutthroat trout.  Jeff went next and managed to have a number of fish to the fly and landed his first Bonneville today.  He also became better acquainted with some Leeds Creek brush.

Jeff's first Bonneville cutthroat 

I had an enjoyable day and was able to get a few extra casts when one of the Scherck crew was in the "penalty box" trying to get their fly out of the tree.  A good host would probably have been helping them but I've been fishing too long with my brothers and a fly in the brush means I'm back in the water for the "power play".

Rob with a "power play" Bonneville cutthroat 

We spent about three hours on the water (and in the brush) and as the sun went behind the mountains we climbed out of the creek and wandered a bit through the brush until we got to the road to walk back to our parking spot.  A short drive home, through the car wash so Mary will let me continue to take her minivan fishing, and it was turkey noodle soup at Grandma's before heading the the theater for a traditional movie night with the kids.

Happy Black Fish-day to all!