Middle Provo

Last day in Utah gave me (Rick) a little time to join the daily crowd on the Middle Provo. This is a beautiful section of river, reconstructed a number of years ago from a diked channel to a natural meandering river channel. Fish populations responded favorably, and the river now has a population in the range of 3000 fish per mile. Lots of fish, but not necessarily easy to catch.

I found ten cars in the access parking lot, but since this provides access to a couple miles of stream, there would be plenty of room to find open water. I hiked downstream for 15 minutes before starting to find my way to the water. Fished a riffle with a few rising fish, but no takers on the dry or dropper. Then a nice bit of slow water next to the bank and willows. Nothing but a small one on the dropper. Then I moved down to a larger hole, and a short time after arriving, fish begin to rise, first here and there, then everywhere. All sizes, from 8" or so to 15" or more. I watched them come up and splash the surface, sometimes porpoising, to grab whatever they were eating. The ignored the dry for the most part, a couple clearly looking at it, but turning away. With no flies visible on the water, I switched to a small, cripple fly that floats in the film. I got a number of takers, or near takers at least. Not sure if I was just slow or if they never really took it in. I finally hooked a small one that got off, but after that, nothing but looks, not even splashes. I had mistakenly left one of my boxes at the condo, the one with most of my small dries and cripples. I did have another box with some, and tried most of the flies in the box to no avail, along with a number of droppers from midges to sow bugs to prince to pheasant tail. Nothing. They only wanted one thing, and I didn't have it. A bit of frustration, but also amazement watching how many fish were in this one run. After an hour or so, things slowed down to only an occasional rise.

Sitting down and taking a break, I called Sarah to ask about her first day of work, called Carlynn, and then noticed some caddis were out and about. I switched to double EHC in two different sizes, and over the next hour or so found several willing fish. They weren't keyed in on it, and there was not a crazy hatch that came on in the late evening hours, but I was able to bring a few more to hand. As dusk approached, I stopped at the first riffle I had fished early, and had numerous strikes, but the glare was bad and it was nearly impossible to follow the fly. At last, stopping at another small pocket I broke off the fly in a fish, and decided it was time to call it a day and meet the family for dinner. Another good day - the girls spent it shopping, I spent it fishing, a rather good arrangement if you ask me.

 

First brown to hand

Nice Middle Provo Brown

 

Fishing with Dover

Today, while all the rest of the family went to Lagoon, the amusement park in Farmington, Utah, I spent the day in one of my favorite amusement parks, the mountains of Utah. With the family gone all day, I had planned a full day of exploring some new water. On a whim Sunday, I had called my nephew-in-law Mike Dover, an occasional guest of this blog, and asked if he would be interested in spending the day with me. He was able to clear his schedule for Tuesday join me in my explorations.

 

I met Mike in Heber, and we first headed to the "Wild Strawberry", a section of tailwater below Strawberry Reservoir and Soldier Creek Dam. The upper section is hike-in from the base of the dam, while the lower section is reached by road from below. We chose to hike in. The trail follows the river closely in the narrow canyon, giving us a constant view of moss filled slack-water behind beaver dams and trout suspended in the clear water. We had committed to hike in at least 20 minutes before we started fishing to get away from the heaviest pressure, but made it only about 7 minutes before an actively feeding fish drew us to the river. A few minutes later, we continued along the trail, the trout having rejected all offerings we proffered. About 25 minutes in we started fishing in earnest in a section of moving water with mostly riffles and some pools around big rocks. No fish were visible, no rises to swarms of small flies on the water (PMDs?), no darting fish as we walked up through the stream. Fishing for about an hour, we saw only two fish, a riser that Mike cast to, and a nice fish that rose to my fly in the shallows next to the bank. This strawberry was tasting a little sour to us, so we hiked back out to try a different fruit at Currant Creek.

 

Currant Creek is a small, brushy stream, also a tailwater, that is noted for having a healthy population of good-sized brown trout. And today, that is what we found. A currant is normally a sour fruit, but for us today, it was as sweet as could be. Pulling into a likely looking access point, we found a small stream, maybe a little smaller than Nunya, with just a little color to the water. I had one about 10" flash under my fly in the first hole, but no takers. A few fish were seen rising in the run above, but again no takers on the dry (Turk's for me with a golden stone dropper, size 16). I found a corner hole up above this, and while Mike was changing to double nymph, I had a fat 11" brown grab the dropper for our first fish of the day.

First brown from Currant Creek

Tossing the fly back into the foamy eddy on the far side, another 11" brown exploded on the dry. Things were looking up. After another couple of small fish, we came to a large beaver dam with fish actively rising throughout. I promptly caught another 11" brown, then Mike and I had a double. I think we caught and/or missed a few more before the fish were spooked. Working my way up to the even larger dam upstream, I was waiting for Mike to tie on and come up the other side for first cast into the fresh water. While waiting, I tossed a fly towards a small stream of water coming in from the side just below the dam. The fly hit the water, a 14" or so trout darted out and grabbed the fly, I did the surprise set, and the fish was last seen twirling in the water below the dam trying to get the fly I had broken off out of its mouth. Mike made it up to the dam, and we again found a couple similarly sized fish and missed a few more. With no reasonable way around this large dam, we headed back to the car, having had enough success to want to explore further upstream. That was a good choice.

 

A few miles upriver, we found the water clear and a stretch of flowing water free from beaver dams. Some rising fish in the first couple holes, but no takers. Then, the fun started. I had run my dry/dropper through the deeper water of a likely run. Nothing. On a whim I tossed into the shallows straight above me. Immediately the dropper snagged on the rocks. Then the snag started moving and rolling and jumping. The 15" snag below came to hand.

 



Nice brown from the shallows

 

Mike, who had been retying flies after breaking off in the willows (a recurring theme on this stream), then came up to give it a try. I pointed out some sticks on the far side where my upstream casting had ended, and he tossed his fly up above them. As the dry drifted by the sticks, we saw a golden shape drift out, turn, and grab his dropper. The fish took off upstream, giving quite the fight before coming to the net, another fat 15" brown (I think Mike sets his drag more like Tom, so that he can feel like small fish are bigger than they are).

Mike and another nice brown

A solid 15 inches

From here on we saw at least one fish in every hole, although most were either missed, didn't quite take, or broke off. The fish in the shallows was no fluke. Pushing through a brushy section, a looked down and saw about a 15" brown sitting next to the bank in water no more than six inches deep. I had one about 18", again casting to the shallows at the side of a hole, that moved slowly up to the dry, sucked it in, and upon my giving the perfect set (no surprise set this time), the line parted at a weak point in the 3x section of tippet halfway up the leader. Aargh! Further upstream, I had seen one about 18" to 20" feeding in a pretty run, and let Mike have the chance to cast to this one as I had just missed a similarly sized one in the bottom of the hole. Mike drifted the fly over, a couple times, then was staring at his boots or something and looked up just in time to see the fly get spit out by the monster. This happened a few more times throughout the day - it was kind of like fishing with Rob!

As the dark clouds and thunder that had been hanging around us all day started to open up, I found one more nice brown, again from the shallows at the side of the hole. Mike was trying to entice one of the risers above him to take, when a very near crack of thunder through the deluge of large drops finally drove us from the river. On the drive home, we both marveled at the large fish we had caught and missed, and declared with certainty that we would be back here again.

Last fish of the day

First Fish on a Fly

Not much time for fishing today, as many in the family hiked to Ruth Lake in the Uintah mountains. Beautiful hike, but I had to drive by a lot of lovely water to get to the trailhead. After the hike, I got together with my brother-in-law, Aaron Wickley, who had flown in from San Diego the night before and really wanted to do some fishing. We first checked out a small creek in a section right next to the main highway. Here Aaron picked up his first fish ever on a fly!

Special guest Aaron Wickley and his first fish on the fly

However, most of the fish were small and there weren't a lot of them, so we decided to head back to my Saturday location to pick up some numbers now that he knew the basics. But it was not to be. As we started walking to the creek from the pullout, the rain started to fall. Then the bolts started to fall. Back into the car we waited, but the storm was slow moving and we eventually gave up and headed down the valley...to where I remembered seeing what could have been a beaver pond next to the road where a side canyon came in.

I have learned that there doesn't have to be much water for there to be trout, especially when beaver ponds are involved. That again proved to be the case. The small creek no more than a couple feet wide and shrouded completely in willows had been dammed by the busy mammals in a couple of places right next to the road. Pushing through willows and grass from near where the culvert went under the road (we know that culverts are most often a good omen for fishing!) we came out on a small dam and pond, just a short cast from the dam to the far end. There were a few fish rising and I could see some cruising. I guided Aaron on some casting, he got his fly out into the middle, and promptly hooked about an 11" or 12" trout, that swam right towards him. With all the slack in the line, he thought he lost it, but got the line tight again and fought it for a bit longer before it came unhooked. But he had a great thrill.

Sadly for Aaron, but good for me, his line got totally tangled with all the fun he had, so being the good guide I am, I promptly cast out and caught a couple fish while he untangled his line (I learned my guiding skills from Tom). We got Aaron back in the water, and while he was trying to get another rise (I think he did miss one or two), I eyed a good sized fish that was nosed up to a little inlet of water coming from the upstream dam at the far end of the pond. It was too far for Aaron to reach with his newbie casting skills, and approaching more closely would likely spook the fish. So I took my renegade (I had changed when the fish in this pond looked at my Turk's dry but didn't hit) and laid it out about a foot behind the trout. I watched it turn, gave a couple short strips to the line, watched the mouth open, the mouth close, then lightly set the hook. Perfectly done! After a short fight, this nice 11" rainbow was brought to hand.

Beautiful trout from the beaver pond

We weren't quite done, yet. Carefully creeping up on the inlet stream, I directed Aaron to cast into the moving water about 15 feet upstream where it spilled over the upstream dam. I was in the water downstream, Aaron was up on the bank. First cast was short, the second he dropped right in the current. As it floated down towards us, we both watched an 11" fish rise slowly to his dry and suck it in. He lifted at just the right moment and had the fish. Aaron's turn for a perfectly executed catch. Sadly, no picture as he tried to lift the flopping fish up to him with the 5x tippet, which promptly broke. That's OK. The memory will stick with him, as will the memory of this beautiful, hidden little pond by the side of the road.

The little pond with the nice fish

A Great Place for a Family Reunion...

July 4, 2015 Near Park City, Utah

We drove down last night for a reunion with all of Carlynn's family, renting a condo in Park City. I was looking forward to this. An informal reunion with lots of open time. And lots of open rivers. Nothing until the family barbeque tonight in Draper. I thought of the nearby Middle Provo and its 3,000 fish per mile. But with it being July 4, there would likely be almost that many fisherman per mile. I decided to head further up into the mountains to check out some small water, where I had seen numerous beaver ponds on Google Earth. And perhaps fewer people.

 

As I drove up the valley, every turnout with accessible water nearby had a car or two. It wasn't looking good. Then, magically, as I reached the National Forest boundary up one of the forks, there were no more people. Several turnouts were passed without a car, and the by now creek-sized stream was sometimes visible in thicket of willows filling the narrow valley bottom. I pulled off one to see if there was a reasonable way down to the creek. Here is what I saw - now the day was looking good.

View of the creek from the pull-out

First hole, I immediately raised a little cutt as I dropped the fly on the other side of a log and watched the fish slowly rise to the dry and suck it in. Then I was into the stream and started up. Initially I caught just a few, one here, one there. Lots of willows on the side, overhanging, but it was open enough to fish in most places.

Nice little run...

With a nice little cutthroats

The creek split here because of multiple outlets from a beaver dam just upstream. Which led to another, and another, and another. Some dams were large with the pool filling most of the bottom of the valley, others were small, just slowing the stream and creating a nice run with a little more depth. All were full of fish, and the stretches of moving water between them were at times incredible. In the little run pictured below, I caught about 20 from the sticks on the left up to the second rock. And more in the run up above until I reached the base of the next dam.

 

Little run between beaver dams

A nice brookie

There was a good bit of somewhat difficult willow-walking between ponds and always the concern about getting stuck in deep mud behind the dams. I found my way around/through each dam after greeting a number of willing fish. Most were beautiful cutthroats, 6" to 10" long. I turned one that might have gone 12". There were also brookies, which surprisingly tended to be larger than the cutts, mostly 8" to 10". Only one rainbow without any cutthroat colorings or markings. So it was a good day, catching three of the four trout species in about 1/4 mile of creek.

Nice cutthroat out of the shallow water below the beaver dam

Brook trout with a little size

Only rainbow of the day

I had started with the Turk's Tarantula, about size 10 or 12, and various droppers, but all action was on the dry, so the dropper came off. After a lot of chewing action from the trout, the legs fell off the Turk's. I had noticed a lot of lookers besides the abundant takers, so I switched to an Irresistible Wulff, size 14 I think. Great fishing became even greater. They really liked that thing, and the upright white hair wings made it easy to see. 

 

After 2 1/2 hours of bliss and dozens of fish, it was close to time to head back for the family barbecue. I came to the largest dam yet, about 5' high, with the pond filling the full bottom of the valley. Fish were rising throughout. Hmm, how long did it take me to drive here? Knowing me well, the heavens sent a little reminder that it was time to go, as a dark cloud approached with sounds of rolling thunder. Even I am not crazy enough to fish in a thunderstorm, so I made my way back to the road and headed back to the car, looking down with a smile on the maze of willows I had passed through, now knowing what was hidden therein. This little gem, which gave me solitude on the Fourth of July weekend, reminded me of the little streams we explored with my Dad when we were little. It will definitely deserve another visit.

Perfect memories