Early Black Fishday

With Tom unavailable this year for our annual Black Fishday event, we decided to meet a couple weeks early for our annual, post-Thanksgiving magic (pre-Thanksgiving this year). The fish didn't care that we were a little early. In fact, they seemed to be happy to greet us. October caddis jig with a soft hackle under an indicator. Black bugger swung. Lots of fish. The pictures tell the story of the day - big rainbows; lots of them.

Beautiful color on the males

Another 20-incher...

In an unusual turn of events, I was up on Tom 5 fish to 1 early in the day. I caught one in a nice hole for swinging on the bugger. We traded rods so he could swing, and I promptly caught another behind him with the caddis. The next run up, I had finished drifting the caddis through the bottom of the run, turned my back and started walking upstream with the indicator swinging across the current. I felt a tug and turned to see a 22-inch rainbow jump clear out of the water. To catch more fish than Tom, you generally have to be lucky.

He eventually caught up, and bested my biggest with a 22-1/2 inch beauty.

Nicely done, Tom. That fish is a beast!

At the end of the day, we had about 30 fish to hand between the two of us. My tally on size for the ones I measured was 22, 21, four 20s, 19, 18, 17, four 15s, and a 14 (all in inches). I just couldn't find one that was 16! Tom had a similar range of sizes.

What was perhaps the fish of the day we never saw. Near the end of the day, Tom hooked one that raced downstream taking him to the backing before diving into the grass bank and breaking off. Never saw the fish, just the large wake. Hopefully that one will be around next year even a little bigger...

Always kiss the fish and tell them thank you...

Red Rock and Pink Rod

I was visiting Rob at his home in St. George, Utah for some late season red-rock hiking and we managed to fit in a trip to a nearby creek for some small Bonneville cutthroat.

Shirtsleeve weather in November

This little stream is really brushy with dipping and the bow and arrow cast being used extensively.

In many places it's hard to walk upstream, let alone get the fly on the water

The banks showed evidence of heavy flooding from rain the previous week (water level two or three feet above the normally tiny flow) which may have impacted the fish, but we still found enough to keep us happy.

A likely run...

...produces a nice fish

I was using a borrowed, bright pink rod that Rob got for his wife. As long as I have a rod in my hands, I don't care about the color. 

Favorite cast of the day - a tree was completely overhanging a nice run along a red rock wall, so I cast on top the wall where the tree didn't quite reach, the line and fly slid off the wall, under the tree, and down into the stream, where the fly was promptly inhaled by a little cutt.

Rob trying to replicate my off-the-wall casting magic

Any day you can catch fish is a good day. Catching fish and climbing over red rock makes an awesome day!

Birthday Bash, August 5 to 7, 2021

Every year, Tom and I try to make time for at least a day fishing together around our birthday's, August 1 (Tom) and August 2 (me). Tom had the whole week off work due to a Covid-cancelled foreign trip, and it was the week of my Friday off, so a day trip to one of our standard creeks turned into a three-day, two night adventure in wilderness mountains to the east (Rob had previous plans and couldn't join us).

August 5, 2021

Our first day found us in familiar water, very low for this time of year due to the drought, but still quite cool given the heat of this summer. 

We found fish, including a couple of decent size. I slept through what was likely the largest fish of the day. After drifting the fly in soft water near a drop off adjacent to a nice bank, I was looking down to reposition my feet on the face of a steep gravel bar where I was standing before tossing against the bank. While I was looking down, Tom watched as a large fish slowly rose and took my fly completely under. He first thought what good control I had not jerking the fly away too soon in eager anticipation. Two or three seconds after the fish took the fly with no action on my part, he realized I wasn't watching and shouted something about a fish, to which I promptly lifted to set and looked up to see the broadside and pink stripe of a large rainbow, which I felt briefly before the fly came back to me. Oh well, I'm nearly that slow sometimes even when I'm watching...  

Tom with the last (and biggest) fish of the day

Hoppers found fish in fair enough numbers to make a good, though not great day. Surprisingly, there were no hoppers anywhere to be seen and the grass along the stream was fully leaved and uneaten, which could explain the less-than-stellar performance of the hopper. Black buggers also found fish, but the largest fish we saw (20+ inches) were feeding at the surface in slow water on something really small. Frustrating to see such big fish actively feeding with nothing to tie on that they are interested in. By early afternoon it was time move on to where we would camp and fish for the next two days exploring new water while chasing westslope cutthroat (and as it would turn out for Tom, whitefish, but more on that below).

Tom's new method of making sure his fish are bigger than mine - cut off the nose in the photo

August 6, 2021

After leaving yesterday's stream, we drove for a few hours to a campground near the end of a forest service road deep in the mountains beneath the continental divide (with a stop to pick up cinnamon rolls, pepperoni, bagels, and yogurt, our sustenance for the next two days). We arrived after dark, ate the first roll from our cinnamon roll six-packs (mine with cream cheese frosting, Tom's with plain) and slept on pads in Tom's truck, the sound of the nearby river filling us with anticipation for the morning. After a breakfast of the second cinnamon roll and yogurt, we headed upstream, stopping at pullouts near likely looking water, fishing along ten miles of stream over the course of the day. We found beautiful water and plenty of beautiful cutthroats to keep us happy. And we pretty much had the whole river to ourselves.

Tom in a nice run

A good-sized westslope cutt

The trout were never keyed in on a particular fly and never were found in crazy numbers, but we consistently found them throughout the day, sometimes on big dries (chubby chernobyls), small dries (Rick found the parachute adams knocked little 8 to 10 inch cutts dead in one large back eddy), a couple on renegades, but most reliably on a jig-head October caddis or soft-hackle hare's ear. It took a little work, the wading was hard (big slick rocks), but we were regularly rewarded. 

Rick and nice cutt

Beautiful fish

The real action of the day, however, was with the two-bit hooker (the name of a small, red fly, not company back at camp...). After I had fished my nymphs through a likely looking deep section of a run without any interest, Tom stepped in with the two-bit hooker trailing a caddis and immediately hooked a nice...whitefish. And another. And another. Something like a dozen casts in a row, with the indictor going down in the same spot in the run each time. And he actually looked like he was having fun catching non-trout (I won't tell anyone...)

Tom had the big fish of the day, a beautifully colored, fat 16-inch cutthroat that rose to a chubby cast against the far bank. We each had a couple bigger fish, up to the 18 to 20-inch range, rise to the fly but ultimately reject it at the last second.

The fish of the trip

We fished from just after first light to sunset, stopping briefly for pepperoni sandwiches on bagels for lunch. Back at camp, we ate...pepperoni sandwiches on bagels and the third of our cinnamon rolls for dinner, before climbing in bed at 21:30 and surprising promptly falling asleep with the enticing sound of the stream in the background.

August 7, 2021

Up at first light, cinnamon rolls (fourth and fifth) and yogurt for breakfast, then a drive upriver (this is the kind of groundhog day I like!). Today we decided to head to the end of the road and hiked a trail upriver for a couple of miles to see what we could find further from the road. It was a good choice. We fished just under a mile of stream in complete solitude and found fish a lot more regularly, some on the surface, but the ticket was the October caddis nymph or a small soft hackle hare's ear. More fish and generally larger size (12 to 15 inches) than yesterday, but we didn't see any of the really big one's like the previous day.

Typical cutthroat from the second day

Early afternoon arrived and it was time to leave so we could arrive home at a somewhat decent hour. We began the now nearly four-mile hike back to the car as we usually do - wishing we had remembered to bring water (right before leaving the truck at the trailhead, we had filled my hydration pack with water, then promptly forgot to put it on before heading up the trail). The morning clouds had given way to full sun, but luckily, it was only 80°F, not 100°F, and there was an occasional breeze and some shaded sections of trail, so we made it back to the truck without heatstroke. We guzzled water and ate the last of our cinnamon rolls. (Christmas gift idea for our spouses - get us a filtering straw that we can keep in our fishing pack/vest so we can drink straight from the river when we inevitably again find ourselves far from the car without water). 

We bade farewell to this beautiful stream and mountain valley that gave us two days of thinking of nothing but which fly we should tie on and where we should lay it out to drift in search of another fish. I think we will meet again...

Backcountry Boys

Brian began 17th grade this week (first year of dental school at the University of Washington in Seattle) so he and two of his brothers-in-law, Hollis and Brad, planned a backpacking trip into the backcountry with me for some cooler temps, great scenery, and the opportunity of fish. We were successful on all counts. Leaving Wenatchee, where high temps have been hovering between 99-115 degress for the last few weeks, we were happy to feel the temperatures moderating as we made our way into the Cascade Mountains and higher elevation. After making our way to Maverick Saddle, we began hiking the upper Mad River trail. When we got about six miles in, we came to a meadow area near the backcountry guard station and took a break for lunch and a little stream exercise.

Brad told me he'd seen a nice fish, but it wasn't interested in the fly he was passing overhead and I should try my Renegade. I measured out the line, made one false cast, and laid it where I anticipated the fish I could see would have it in view. He slowly edged his nose upward into the current and drifted with the fly, sipping it in when he reached the surface. Hookset followed by a brief struggle and he came to hand for a quick photo and thank-you, then release back into his cool water home.

Several more cutthroats were anxious for the fly in this stretch and after a time, we decided we had to get on our way to make it to Mad Lake, our final destination for the day and see if fish were willing there. They were. Brian landed a beautifully colored cutthroat and Hollis and Brad found some as well.

Day two we hiked to Klone Peak lookout and then on to Two Little Lakes and Tommy Creek. It was a beautiful day and Glacier Peak was reigning over the backcountry in the distance.

Brian and I caught a couple little ones in Tommy Creek, but they were smaller and less willing than we had seen with Hollis and Brad in the lake above so we returned to the lake to see if we could repeat their success. Alas, we must have had "stink" on our lines because while Hollis and Brad continued to catch them, Brian and I struggled. Hollis caught a nice cutthroat, probably larger than mine, so I offered to take a photo of him and the fish. I don't think he's done the "fish photo" thing too much so simply grabbed the line a foot above the fly. Of course the fish was wriggling and spinning and it looked more like a piscene drill bit than a photo pose so I, of course, waited for him to get the fish under control. Seeing that this appeared unlikely to happen without some coaching, I suggested he grab the fly and use it to get the fish in a better orientation for photos. Hollis did so, I got the lighting angle right, and just as I touched the shutter and before it could activate, the fish wriggled off the fly and dropped into the lake and swam away unharmed. So below, you see a photo of Hollis smiling holding on to the fly and the "phantom fish" that didn't quite appear in the photo.

I did manage to get a photo of Hollis with a fish back at Mad Lake, but there is absolutely no photographic evidence or proof that he caught a fish larger than mine. Brad caught his share as well.

Melinda chose me and American Fork Creek

I had one more day to fish before heading for home, and had lots of options. Melinda had talked about fishing with me Friday morning before I left, but she got an invite from friends to climb Timp. And guess what? She chose her dad and fishing over friends and Timp. I felt very important!

We arose early and headed for American Fork Creek, a small stream that Rob has fished several times, but that I had yet to visit. I figured it would be good to pick a small stream near to her home that she might be able to return again on her own. The stretch below Tibble Fork dam where Rob normally fishes was killed off by an inadvertent release of toxic mine sludge from the dam a few years ago, so we decided to head above the reservoir, which Rob had described as a "rough road". Uh, yeah, really rocky, loose, sharp rocks, and some big potholes. I was going slow and worrying about my new tires until I passed a group at a pullout where one of the parked cars was a low-to-the-ground BMW. OK, maybe I'm a bit cautious on rough roads...

We continued on and found an open pull out next to the small stream tumbling through the woods. Beautiful pocket water, a good place to practice roll casts, bow and arrow casts, dangling, and straight up and down casts, all the essentials of small, woody streams. We quickly found fish, small browns, in most holes of any size.

Her first brown trout!

Uh, it's getting away Melinda, but that sure is a nice pose and smile...

After a couple hours in the small stream with quite a few browns to the fly, we headed home with a stop in the larger stream below the reservoir. Didn't see many fish, and the two we caught were rainbows. I imagine it might take a while for the browns to wash down and repopulate.

Mel was very patient with me, putting up with my at times contradictory instructions (I don't know how my fly gets out there sometimes, it just does, so I'll often say to try one thing, then something different when that doesn't work). Fishing the indicator made casting different, but she was able to pull a rainbow out before we left. So this week she not only completed her Utah Cutthroat Slam, she also got a slam of the the four major trout species - brook, brown, cutthroat, rainbow.

We'll hope she finds time to find her way to some of these small streams on her own to further hone her newly rediscovered skills! Happy fishing!

Return to Currant Creek

Thursday was my day to fish with my nephew-in-law, Mike Dover and his son Ethan, who has recently decided that fly-fishing is a pretty cool thing to do. We headed to Currant Creek below the reservoir where a few years ago we found some outstanding browns. We left early and arrived before the sun was above the hills, parking near where we had fished a few years ago. Heading to the stream, we found - dam! No, not a curse word (although it became one that morning). Currant Creek is noted for having many beaver dams, and sure enough, busy beavers had converted the running section we fished a few years ago into a series of beaver dams. We spent a couple hours thrashing through willow thickets and deep mud, but found no willing fish. The only fish I saw was a monster that followed my fly at a distance in a deeper section of one of the dams. Regrouping, we decided to head up to a section known as the narrows, where the creek tumbles through a brief narrow canyon.

I headed down to fish a beautiful looking run downstream while Mike headed for a beaver dam where a nice fish had just risen. While I was downstream, Mike found a couple on an elk-hair caddis.

I think this was the fish from the beaver pond

Downstream, I had no luck on the dry hopper or dropper despite the lovely looking run. There had to be a fish there! Tried a couple other flies with no luck. Then I turned over a rock and saw a bunch of very small, gray larvae. Which got me thinking (that's a change!). This was a tailwater, and past experience from the Provo River below Deer Creek was that a very small midge larva was often the ticket. So I put on a size 12 psycho caddis (I also found bright green caddis larva) with a size 20 gray midge as a trailer. First cast was rewarded with a nice sized flash and a takedown of the indicator, but the set came up empty. That often happens seems to happen with a size 20 fly. After spoiling the lower section of the run unhooking the fly from some branches, I quickly found another fish in the upper half of the run, on the size 20. Things were beginning to look up.

Mike was still working the beaver dam, Ethan was sidelined as the water was just a little too cold for him wet wading (he has a little less natural insulation than Mike or I do). I moved upstream to find some moving water. Passing a shallow riffle, I found a short deeper run by a grassy bank. First cast, a couple flashes, takedown, miss. Second cast, a flash, another miss. Third cast, takedown, solid set and a nice brown to hand, on the size 20.

Moving to the right hand branch of the stream split, I flipped the flies into a nice pool and immediately had another small brown, on the size 20. I called Mike up, and we rigged both their rods with similar flies from my box of midges I bought for my visit to the Provo several years ago when my daughter was married (read about it here). I directed Mike to have Ethan, who had been having a tough day (ice cold water, bushwacking through fishless beaver dams), toss the fly into the nice hole where I had just pulled out the small brown. Ethan did as directed, and immediately hooked and landed a much nicer brown. Yup, size 20 gray midge was definitely the fly of the day. We continued to fish up, finding enough fish to keep us happy. Ethan found the biggest fish of the day in a small run below a beaver dam.

The big fish of the day; he could have made it look huge with a proper long-arm...

I followed him and found another, smaller brown in the same run. I told Ethan it was rather rude to take the biggest fish and leave the smaller one for me, especially since he was using my fly and I had left the bigger one for him down below. He just grinned more thinking about his big fish.

Action stills

I found quite a few more smaller browns, a couple on the psycho, but pretty much all on the size 20 gray midge. A great day fishing with Mike and Ethan, started slow, but we were able to figure it out and come up with a couple nice fish for Ethan. And I know what fly I will have in my box the next time I visit Currant Creek...