It has been a couple years since I added to the total of streams in Washington where I have caught trout (been stuck on 136). With a day hike planned up the North Fork of the Teanaway, I figured it was time to remedy that situation. I fished the NF Teanaway back in the HS/college years when Rob and I would drive around checking out new streams. Only visited it once (the Middle Fork had more fish). A little research identified five tributaries that might have trout. I knew they were likely to be very small and brushy, but that is part of the challenge when you are chasing tiny trout in tiny streams. All you need is one fish.
After a great day hiking in Esmerelda Basin at the headwaters of the NF Teanaway, it was time for a little fish hunting. First stop, Stafford and Standup Creeks, parking near where the two joined so I could hopefully knock off two with one stop. I could see driving up that Stafford was decent size water, so I gave that my first shot. When probing new Cascade streams, the renegade should always be one of the first flies to consider (going back to our teenage years), so that is what I tied on. I pushed through the brushy alder to the spot where the two creeks joined. I was right at the top of a nice run, and on the first roll cast into the current, I watched about a 6 or 7-inch trout come up and nose the fly. Three times this happened with at least a couple different fish, but no solid strike. But now I knew there were fish here, so I wouldn't leave without one. Turning upstream, I worked my way through pocket water, to a nice, long deep run, and found nothing there, but the first cast into the smaller run above drew an immediate strike and hookup. Into the net and stream 137 was in the books.
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| Stafford Creek |
Wading back down to where Standup Creek joined Stafford, I shortened to about 30 inches of line out threaded the rod through tree branches, and started dipping in the tiny pools. First dip and a strike, but no hookup, but that was a good sign, at least there were fish here too. A little harder to catch perhaps, but it should not take too long. It was ten yards up to the bridge, and just the other side I could see a decent pool that was fairly open. Small roll cast, fly on the water, a quick take, into the net, and stream 138 was done. I liked the way this was starting!
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| Standup Creek |
Another mile and a half down the road was Jungle Creek. Barely flowing, cattle trodden bank, and full of big logs that have been chained in place as part of a restoration effort to try and form deeper holes. I didn't see any water over six inches deep, no sign of fish as I worked my up for a few minutes, so I moved on. Next stop was Jack Creek. Maybe a hair bigger than Jungle, but not much. I did see some small fish, though, so I gave it a go. I spent most of the time pushing through the alder branches without much fishable water, but finally came upon a small stick pile where the current had carved out a little deeper trough in front of it. As I approached, I saw a 7 or 8 inch fish move back into the brush pile and dipped the fly just above the brush to see if I could entice it out. I didn't find that one, but a smaller one darted out and grabbed the fly. It came unhooked while I was trying to get it in the net for a picture, but since it was to hand, we'll log that as stream 139.
Last stop was Indian Creek right above the highway crossing. At first glance, I was ready to turn around and call it a day, as it was hop across size, almost no flow, and only a few inches in depth (it has a gauging station that I looked at when I got home that showed a whopping 0.17 cfs flow). But I was there, so figured I'd at least give it a try. Carefully approaching the upstream bend, I saw a little deeper pool below a log that crossed the creek where it emerged from a tangle of brush. Reaching the tip of the rod around the corner, I dipped the renegade on the water, which was immediately followed by a splash and a missed hit. Second time, another splash, this time hooked and swung immediately into the net.
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| Indian Creek |
About an hour and forty minutes, four small trout from four new streams, only one that I would consider fishable. It was time to head to Ellensburg and find some fries and shakes for me and my daughter, who had patiently waited in the car while her silly dad chased after tiny fish in tiny water.
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| Rossow's U-Tote-'Em - That is a large, large fry! |
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