The Creek

Since Dad is no longer able to negotiate the slippery, angled basalt boulders that line the bottom of our beautiful little creek, Rob and I decided to pay a visit so we could let Dad know if there were still fish there (spoiler alert - there are). Tom was unable to accompany us (something about a graduation party at his house this afternoon - we told Elisabeth he would for sure be back by 3:30, since it started at 4:00, but she wanted help or something like that) and kindly loaned us The Beast to negotiate the somewhat rough road to our Shang-ri-la. 

We rigged up our renegades and dropped into the stream. It always seems to run the same level, no matter the time of year, although the dead plant material trapped in the trees several feet up is a testament that it sometimes floods with an incredible volume of water for the small size of the stream. The floods of last winter have cleared things out somewhat and seem to have cleaned up the silt that seemed to have been accumulating in places. We immediately found fish. Many of them. Beautiful, wild redband rainbows, ranging from 6 to 10 inches in length. We may have found a couple that pushed 11 inches. 

We stopped counting at a couple dozen. In one hole, we landed 20. At another small run, Rob and I alternated catching up to about 13, then I snagged in the grass (unintentionally) and was able to pull some grass out of the way (intentionally), opening up the top of the channel to Rob, who pulled another 5 or 6 out of the now accessible run. We found fish throughout, and while most were concentrated in the normal deeper runs, we consistently pulled some out of small pockets in the stretches where it runs shallow. That was good to see, as it has been years since we consistently saw fish in these areas.

The grass is still problematic, limiting access to some water, but there was still plenty of room to fish. I don't think it will ever be cleared out to the way it used to be years ago.

I discovered that when fishing with Rob since his ski accident, you need to try to convince him to use 0x tippet all the time, no matter the size of the fly or the fish. When he breaks off a fly, he plays the "no depth perception" card and asks you to stop fishing and tie his fly on for him. Which you do, because he is technically disabled, and once his fly is back on, he promptly starts casting again. So you never get to take advantage of his loss. When you break off your fly, he keeps right on fishing and catches 3 or 4 while you are out of the water. The only solution is to use a wire leader strong enough to pull down a small tree when he gets caught in it...

We spent a few hours enjoying serenity and solitude. In a couple deep holes I couldn't resist tying on a nymph and running it under an indicator to see if I could find a "big one". The fish I found were the same size, and Rob would continue catching two or three or four with the Renegade to my one with the nymph. I don't know why I ever tie on anything else here. We finally climbed out and returned to Wenatchee about 3:10 (we could have had Tom back in time!) and reported our findings to Dad, who wistfully wondered aloud if he could make it to fish just a couple holes. Maybe we will find a way to get him there one more time...