Whitefishing....

I had such a good time last week on the Methow hauling in the whitefish, I got permission from Elizabeth to hit the Wenatchee to see if I could find some more whities. She said to bring a few home this time to try a new recipe from the whitefish cookbook I got her for her last birthday. But alas, it was a bad day. I worked several stretches of the river really hard, but no whities to be found. I did hook this steelhead one of the many times my backcast was hitting the water behind me (when it wasn't in the trees or breaking off hooks on the rocks). I threw it back though; I'm a true believer in white meat and bones now - nothing better than a fish with lips.

Little Nunya

I just love this place! Sure, it is a small stream full of beautiful little trout, but I know lots of places like that. Somehow, though, Little Nunya is unique for me. I think it is the incongruity of driving for miles and miles through rolling hills of dryland wheat, with no mountains or trees anywhere in sight, knowing that just ahead, invisible from the wheatfields, is an oasis of a coulee carved into the earth by ice age floods decades of millenia ago. And that in the bottom of that coulee runs a small, cold creek teeming with trout.

After miles of wheatfields and shortly after passing an overgrown pioneer cemetery, the road dips suddenly into the coulee, the wide bottom opening before you. The clumps of cottonwood trees in the distance mark both the stream and an old homestead long since abandoned. A slight bend in the road hides the pullout at the bridge until the last moment. You round the bend and the empty parking area brings a sigh of relief - you have the stream to yourself. One last moment of worry as you get out of the car and immediately hear the sounds of tumbling water - will the stream be clear? (Runoff from the surrounding fields occassionally turns the water chocolate brown). You walk out on the bridge and peer over the railing, just in time to see a dozen or more dark shapes in the gin-clear water below you dart out of sight into the faster water upstream. Yes! This is going to be a good morning!

Well, this morning it was a very brief, but very good morning on my way to Michigan via Spokane. After dropping Melinda off at her before-school orchestra practice, I was left with a little over an hour of extra time on my way to Spokane, not enough time to hit Nunya, but just enough for a quick visit to Little Nunya, although for only 45 minutes of time on the water. But 45 minutes well spent, with 33 fish to hand, fishing the size 16 psycho prince (what else!). I caught 15 just above the bridge, 15 in the little run above that, and had just enough time to pull 3 more out from down below the bridge.

Most were 6" to 8" like this gorgeous little guy here.

And a few nicer ones like this guy below thrown in to make things more interesting. The bigger ones love to dive into the grass on the banks, where you sometimes have to reach in with your hand and untangle them (or more often your fly because they are no longer there).

Wish I'd had more time, but I'm grateful to have had even just a few minutes at this beautiful little treasure.

"On the way" to the airport (Tom's way)....

Carlynn was flying home from visiting her sister in San Antonio, so after Saturday chores we decided to stop at the Tucannon River "on the way" to picking her up. Well, at least the airport is on the way to the river, and on the way back.

It was beautiful weather for a fall fishing trip, nice temperature, and just a few drops of rain. We stopped at a pullout where the river was maybe 100 yards from the road, but what a 100 yards! After following what appeared to be a fishermans trail, it quickly degenerated into a series of intersecting game trails through chest high grass, fallen branches, swampy ground, and rose and blackberry thickets. Then I saw a few piles of blackish-blue poop and an elderberry bush stripped of most of its berries with the grass trampled flat underneath it. I realized we were probably following trails made by the smaller cousins of the bears who made similar trails and left similar piles in Alaska. It would have been less disconcerting had I not just read the story of a Leavenworth man who lost his eye in a vicious attack two weeks ago by a black bear outside his cabin.

Well, we made it to the river after about 20 minutes of struggle, and found enough fish to keep us happy, none with much size, in contrast to my last trip two years ago about this time of year. I spent most of my time coaching Melinda and helping her wade through the water, which was a little fast in this stretch for her to wade alone in most places. She was able to catch several fish on her own.

Sarah handles the rod very well, and caught a good number herself.

What a smile! But she wishes that when she got the Merrill Orthodontics smile, she didn't also get the Dr Tom fish size along with the smile.

OK, I found a little time to fish towards the end of the day. I'm glad Tom didn't do my braces!

There were October caddis all over, but the fish didn't seem to be looking up for them much (except in a pool of slow water where Sarah was harrassing baby fish barely bigger than the Stimulator Chew Toy she was fishing until she snagged one in the belly and felt bad and moved on). Most fish were on nymphs, black double-bead stone and the psycho prince.

After not quite as bad a bushwack back to the road, we continued our trip to the airport (via Ray's Drive Inn and milkshakes in Dayton) and found Carlynn waiting for us - her flight arrived a half-hour early. I don't know if she tried calling, but I would have told her we were on the way....

Nebo Creek/Diamond Fork

I brought an old pair of hip boots and Jess's fly rod so she could try and arrange a fly-fishing date or two before things freeze up, and what better way to spend a morning than to make sure she was well versed in using them before sending her out alone into the cold, brushy world of fly-fishing!

We tried Nebo Creek early in the morning, with very little luck. I had one fish to hand and only one other take in about an hour on two different sections, including the section Rob killed them on in August. Both were on a black stonefly. I don't know where all the fish went, but we only saw the occasional fish when walking through the holes we had fished. We tried hoppers, humpies, renegades, stones, and even the psycho prince, but no luck. Early morning glare was really bad. I think better luck would have been had a little later in the day, but today this creek only gets a 1 1/2 fly rating (the half because it is so pretty!).

Leaving Nebo Creek, we had a big decision to make - first session of conference or another hour or two together fishing on Diamond Fork. Hmmm, I think Willford Woodruff would understand.

We found Diamond Fork with many turnouts occupied, but about 4 miles up found an open spot. The water was a little clearer than my last visit, but not much, visibility about 12 inches. Jessica received instruction in nymphing with a strike indicator, and once she got the hang of casting with the extra weight/drag of the stike indictor, she did very well.

Jess caught the first fish, the monster shown below (at least a monster compared to my first fish at Leeds Creek the other day). I had a decent brown, then Jessica hooked and fought one that got away. All on psycho prince, but that was all the action we saw. I'd like to fish this with Tom and Mike Dover and see if their day was a fluke when all the stars lined up right, or if we are just lacking the proper technique for this stream (don't answer that Tom!). For today, we give this one another 1 1/2 fly rating.

Lower Huntington Creek

Day three of this southern Utah road trip found us travelling from Escalante to Provo. That could take three days if I stopped every place I'd like to check out between the two, but with one day and Carlynn along, I limited the fishing to a couple quick stops in between some slickrock scrambling, a side trip to a short, but impressive slot, and a diversion to a distant, but not so impressive dinosaur quarry.

Our path took us by Calf Creek, which I couldn't pass without at least a few casts, so I pulled out at a different section from last time and found the fish not quite so willing, with only a couple to hand and a few to the fly and dozens swimming around my legs as I walked on through the holes. This was closer to a bridge and a big pull out, so perhaps they are a bit more skittish here. I did catch one from the main highway bridge, though.

Later in the day, I stopped at Lower Huntington Creek. The first stop was in the bait allowed section, where the river is larger and runs pretty fast. I probably had 6 to hand in a half hour, most out of one hole, size about 8 to 12 inches, all browns except one. A couple are pictured below.

I saw one about 16 inches jump clean out of the water upstream, but couldn't find him. Then I ran into a stretch of river where the water ran fast over smooth bedrock, found no more fish, and decided to continue on to Provo. Well, maybe to continue on upriver a couple miles, then on to Provo, because when I got up above the left hand fork the main river was much shrunken in size and was clearly calling out my name. Shouting it, in fact. The car was practically steering itself into every pullout we passed, so I had to stop.

I was rewarded with several quick fish, including one caught with my newly discovered, no-hook method of catching fish. Really, no joke! I was drifting double nymphs through a hole and hooked (I thought) a nice 11-inch brown. The fish appeared to have twisted up in the line, but when I went to untangle and unhook it, I found the lower fly wrapped around the upper fly, and the resulting loop of leader wrapped around the pectoral fins of the trout. I lassoed the fish! Let's see my good ole pardner Tom catch 'em like that!

All fish in Huntington were on the psycho prince fished below a glorified sinker (brown beadhead stone). This river gets a 3 1/2 fly rating, well worth further exploration. It appears to get quite a bit of pressure, but could yield good numbers of fish, and fish with some size. In the upper stretch I saw fish in the 12 to 14" range holding several pools, but couldn't entice them with my offering. The stream is easily accessible from the highway which follows it for many miles from the outlet of the dam at Electric Lake to the national forest boundary near Huntington. The left fork of the stream, which is special regulation and I believe hike-in, would also be worth a look. If you are passing through the area, it would be a good idea to plan your route by way of Huntington Creek, and leave a few extra hours in your travel plans!