Typical Day at the Ford

Here we are in the middle of the midwinter fishing blues, rivers are high, lakes are frozen, but Dad called and reminded me of the one place that is always fishable - Rocky Ford Creek. Melinda was dying to see cousins, so we drove up together Friday night so Dad and I could get an early start. Of course Dad wanted to wait until the sun was up and temps were above freezing, but my experience is the colder and darker the better (and the fewer people). So we left at 6:30, hit McDs for the #8, but Dad got something else, and you know what that means....

Arriving at the Ford about 8 am, we found four cars in the lower lot! Those people were just leaving from below the bridge, so we started above the bridge. Nothing on stripped, olive simi-leech. Moved down below the bridge where Tom and I had killed them dead drifting leeches last time. Nothing. Moved up to the reeds above the bridge, and I started seeing action. About 6 wakes on 8 casts, including two landed like the one below.

17" rainbow

Then dead again. Switched to a new fly, the skully bugger, a big ugly black thing with rubber legs. 

Skully Bugger, a good-looking fly that was well received

It was well received. After tying it on, I saw a trout suspended right in front of me. I dropped the bugger in and watched as the trout moved right up to it, then sucked it in. Sight fishing buggers! With some more interest and another fish on that one, I went up where Dad was at the big rock above the reeds and gave him a skully bugger to tie on and suggested he move down a bit where there was quite a bit of action from fish swirling. Soon after, he had this nice rainbow to hand.

Dad and a nice rainbow on the Skully Bugger

By now the sun was up, no more ice in the guides, and fishing had slowed down. I went down to the rocky peninsula above the skinny water and caught several dead drifting the simi leech, but they were pretty small (12 in. or so). Back up to the reeds, there were some risers so I tried some small emergers. No luck, although, after tying them on, I dropped them in front of a monster that was suspended right in front of me. He immediately rushed up to the fly, stopped about an inch away, then turned around. Finally tied on a bead, and landed one sight fishing it. The big guy in front of me was also interested, approaching it three times, but never enough interest to suck it in. So ended the day at the Ford. Decent enough for me, but typically slow after the early hours. A chance to be out with Dad. Maybe next time he will order the number 8 so he can see a little more action!

Another Blue Line and a Great Black Fishday

Sunshine, solitude, lots of small, wild bows with the chance for an occasional lunker, another new stream (#128 for Rick - we need Tom to add up and report his total if he isn't too embarrassed how far behind he is - but then again, I have nine extra years on him...). Trash talk aside, it was about as perfect of a Black Fishday as you could get.

The plan was to avoid the Ford and check out a new blue line on the map, where rumor had it some trout could be found. With morning temperatures in the teens predicted in the Columbia Basin, we chose a late 8 am start when the sun was full up to give it a chance to warm up. After the obligatory #8 at McDs, we were on our way. It was a balmy 24°F when we left, then as we approached our destination, a few fog banks appeared, and the temp dropped to 18°F. Memories of Black Friday on the Touchet two years ago, but by the time we arrived at our destination, the sun was shining through the mist, making the 18°F seem a little warmer. 

"Prime" trout water; doesn't look like much, but any water full of trout is prime to us!

Looking down from the bridge, we immediately spotted a few small trout, then more and more. Just upstream a school of thirty or so small rainbows could be seen, and fish were actually rising with the temp at 18°F! It was going to be a good day! I tried my hand at catching one off the bridge, but that would have to wait for Tom at the end of the day. Dropping into the stream, Tom fished below, I fished above. Trying small nymphs first, we each caught a couple small, pretty rainbows, but soon switched to stripping small buggers after Tom caught one about 16" on a black conehead bugger.

First rainbow from Stream 128 for Rick

I found a few more willing fish upstream, but they were easily spooked in the shallow, small water. I turned around and headed down to catch up with Tom, and quickly found the technique to avoid spooking the fish was to swing the bugger straight downstream. Hard to hook them, maybe one hookup for every three or four strikes, but we still caught multiple dozens of fish, Yep, it was a good day. Walking down by some still, deep water I saw a number of large fish, 16" to probably more than 20" in with a school of smaller ones. Stripping the bugger through them, I could only get interest from one little guy. But that would change when coming back up with Tom later....

I finally caught up with Tom, and we worked our way down, side by side, catching fish after fish after fish. In every run there were schools of dozens that would dart every which way as we waded through.

The rare solitary fish in this stream; we saw them in schools of dozens in every run

At one deeper hole, we surprisingly found no love for the buggers. Tom walked right up to the top of the hole, and saw a school of forty or fifty sitting right there below him in plain sight. In a brilliant moment of inspiration that can only be attributed to instinct, since Tom has only fly-fished since he could stand on two feet, he brought out the San Juan worm fly and began to dip fish like the primal bait-chucker (minus the styrofoam cup of worms, of course). And immediately, he had a fish. Then another. And another. After about six in a row, I got out the camera to catch this new and effective fly-fishing technique on camera - stand in plain sight of the fish, drop a worm-like fly in front of them, watch them eat it, then pull them in. 

Mostly small, he did entice one of the larger fish in the school to take his worm, I mean, fly...

Tom and a nice-sized rainbow

We continued fishing until the sun became low over the steep banks of the stream. Several hours of fishing, and we had only covered a little more than 1/2-mile of stream. And we had another access point to check out on this day of exploration.

I love finding trout in unique, out of the way places

On the walk back, we dropped into the stream to see if we could entice one of the big boys I had seen to give us a fight. I tried drifting a bead through the run, while Tom returned to the worm. No love for the bead, but Tom saw one of the big ones spook as we approached and head under the grass right at his feet. He dipped the San Juan Worm into the water, and watched as the monstrous fish approached the fly, opened its mouth, and sucked it in. He set the hook and the beast took off upstream, took his line into some floating tumbleweeds, and came unhooked. How to experience both exquisite joy and pain at the same time!

Back at the truck, Tom caught his obligatory fish off the bridge, and we were on our way to check out access at another point on our way home. As the road turned from paved to gravel to dirt, we were not met by any "No Trespassing" signs, and ended up on a bluff above the now larger stream. The sun was nearly to the horizon, and Tom had taken his waders off earlier, so we debated if we should check it out now, or another time. Well, we were here, and I was still ready to fish, so I found a path down to make a few swings while Tom watched from the bluff above. First hole, a good tug after a few swings, then the next cast, this nice fat rainbow.

A good little rainbow - note Tom on the bluff above

A little further down, a good, solid two pulls on the swing, but no hookup. That was a solid fish, but then nothing more. Tom was gracious enough to let me check out the likely run upstream. Not enough light to see how deep the water was, but it looked nice. Casting across and swinging/stripping the black bead-head bunny, I had a good hit, but again, no hookup. A few casts later, another, this time solidly hooked. As the fish jumped, even Tom from the distant bluff could see it was a good one. So as the sun was sinking below the horizon, I landed this fat, 18-inch rainbow, a fitting end to one of the best Black Fishdays ever!

A fat beast to end the day

I had visited this stream with Rob years ago when we first moved to the area, but couldn't remember for sure if we had caught fish in it, so it wasn't on my list of streams. Today definitely cleared that uncertainty up with an exclamation point. We will be back to visit this beauty again.

Lower Boise

Mel and some friends were running this weekend in the Nike Cross cross-country meet in Boise. Not because they are good, just because it would be fun. And fun is what I also found, since the meet was held at Eagle Island State Park, which splits the Boise River into a north and south section. My research found that although it may not be prime trout water, there can be nice trout in this section. No special regulations, and with limited public access and a large nearby population, it probably gets hit pretty hard, but hey, it is fishing, and every trip is an excuse to fish...

At the park entrance, the girls went straight and I turned right to a sportsman's access at the Eagle fish hatchery. Apparently, this is the hatchery that is working to restore the Snake River sockeye, quite successfully from what I have seen. It was a beautiful morning, empty parking lot, no wind, sun just coming above the trees. A short walk brought me to a smaller channel of several braids in the river. Fishing a psycho prince followed by a red copper john, in short order I found a small whitefish, followed quickly by about a 10-inch rainbow. Then nothing more.

Baby whitefish

Pretty little rainbow

Further upstream found a couple more nice runs, tried streamers, buggers, but nothing more. I heard the gun starting the girls' race, and made my way back to the starting point and fished another braid. Still nothing. So I packed things up and called Mel to see if they would be ready to go soon. She asked if it was OK if they wanted to stay longer to watch a friend race later. I said no problem, there are two more access points I could check out. So off I went, downstream about 10 miles to another access point. Obviously heavily used, by fisherman and hunters, but no one there at the time. Satellite images on my phone directed me up to the head of an island in the braids, and I found a nice broad run, first fishing the bugger with a red copper john, then switching back to the psycho. Patiently working my way up, fishing from the bank to the middle of the current, I finally had a takedown as the indicator was nearly beside me in the waist deep water. A lively, 15-inch or so rainbow took the psycho, and after a brief fight, came unhooked as I was trying to get the net under it. Finding nothing more to the top of the run, I went upstream and crossed to fish down the other side. Working my way down the nice looking water, another takedown, this time a 15-inch whitefish on the copper john.

Nice-sized whitefish

By now, it was about time to meet the girls, so I made my way back to the car. Nothing spectacular about the fishing, but anytime you can find some fish in addition to solitude on a pretty stream, it is a great day!

I'm Thankful for the Ice Age Floods...

Sitting in a float tube in the middle of a lake, I realized that a large fraction of the nearby places we fish are a direct result of glacial Lake Missoula and its humongous floods - Nunya, Little Nunya, Lenore, Rocky Ford, Dusty, Homestead - all carved out by the Ice Age Floods that swept across Eastern Washington in the not-too-distant past. So in this month of thanksgiving, I am thankful for those floods, and of course, for Him whose creations provided the landscape to be molded by those floods and the fish to fill the streams and lakes left by them (there Tom, I even got the floods into the blog!). Which brings us to our outing today into another flood-carved area, the Drumheller Channels and the seep lakes.

The flood-carved channels and seep lakes

Joining again with our favorite chironomid fishing expert, Kirk Morris, we met Tom at the parking lot for the short hike to Quail Lake, a small, fly-fishing only lake hidden in the basalt cliffs and flood carved channels, like the 50 or so other lakes that dot this unique area. A short hike of less than ten minutes or so brought us to the fog-shrouded lake, and we quickly launched our tubes and made our way through the muddy shallows to deeper water.

Fog on Quail Lake

Trolling buggers on a sinking line, Rick and Kirk found a couple fish like the fat rainbow below and Tom had some short strikes, but no hookups. Nice fish that fought really well, but not a lot of them.

Rick's fat, feisty rainbow from Quail Lake

Kirk and a nice Quail rainbow

With a couple fish to hand in the far end of the lake, Kirk of course decided it was time to bring out the chironomids, and he started fishing under the bobber as the fog cleared and the sun warmed us. After some epic whiffs, he hooked and landed a nice one on a strike that barely moved his indicator.

Kirk and his chironomids

Hooked right where it is supposed to be...

Tom brought out the chironomids and also found a fat, feisty rainbow.

Fighting...

Landing...

Showing...

Although the fish were good-sized and healthy, they were too few and far between for our liking. And we had another lake or two we wanted to explore, So off we headed to North Windmill, a slightly larger lake with another short hike in. While stopping for a quick break at the facilities at Windmill Lake, fish were seen jumping just out from a nearby basalt wall, and by the time I got out of the outhouse, Tom was already there fishing. Kirk and I made our way over, and we found abundant, but small fish (7" to 10") that would take a stripped bugger on almost every cast, or with less frequency, a dead drifted chironomid. The day was passing into afternoon, and Kirk really wanted to check out North Windmill. The hike brought us to the outlet end of lake, where dramatic cliffs ringed the lake and separated it from the larger Windmill Lake by just a few tens of yards. We made our way down the steep slope to the lake and began kicking around trolling buggers again. In a change from the nearby Windmill, we found no action and saw no fish rising.

Tom and Kirk on North Windmill

Looking  up North Windmill

At the outlet, a small creek flowed through a cleft in the cliffs and dropped down a small waterfall into Windmill Lake. We pulled out and walked down to try Windmill at this point, and again found some willing, but smallish fish. Tom and Kirk returned back to North Windmill where Kirk hooked and fought one decent fish, but that was the only action there. I fished Windmill a little more without additional success, then decided to hike back by a different route to where we had first started at Windmill so I could enjoy the flood-carved scenery.

Pelican in a bay on Windmill on my walk back

Back at the Windmill parking area, Tom bid us farewell and headed back to Wenatchee. Kirk and I tried off the basalt wall again, with less success, but noted fish jumping all throughout the narrow lake. Into the tubes we went, slowly kicking down, then back up the narrow channel, stripping buggers and leeches, and finding lots of fish. Still not much size, most 8" to 12", I landed one that was maybe 13" or 14", and Kirk hooked a monster that turned out to be a little guy tail-snagged so he fought like a big guy. It was a perfect evening, a little drizzle, no wind, lots of fish, kicking, casting, stripping, and catching side-by-side while we talked. I had forgotten to change out of my sunglasses, so dusk came early and I could barely see for the last 45 minutes or so. Then it really did get dark. For the last 15 minutes kicking back to the car, I missed a half-dozen or more fish, and when I reeled in at the takeout, I found out why. My second fly was gone, and my bugger was tied up in knots and dragging backwards through the water. Lesson learned. Don't fish in the dark with sunglasses and no headlamp.

And the fish were still hitting it...

It was full dark and raining when we pulled out, but we had fish hitting all the way to the end. So we didn't find our dream lake full of monster trout just waiting to suck in any fly tossed their way. But we found a few nice fish, lots of little ones, saw some beautiful country, and shared some great company. All while fishing in the path left by the Ice Age floods. What's not to be thankful for?

In the Seeps with Tom and Rick

October 17, 2015

I stared at the tippet, lightly rippling in the slight breeze. Lightly rippling because there was no longer a fly attached. But that is a story for the end of the day...

The day started, as any good day fishing should, in the pre-dawn hours with two #8 meals from McDs with orange juice (one for Tom, one for me). Our eventual goal was a familiar seep lake we hadn't visited in some time, but on the way we visited a couple wasteway drains, hoping to find the water low at the end of the irrigation season. The first was still running high, but Tom managed to entice a small rainbow up to a swinging bugger, a new stream for him. He might make it to 100 one of the days. The next is somewhat like a spring creek, clear, cold, fairly stable flow. What isn't like the spring creek is that it runs mostly in a straight line at the bottom of a large ditch dug into the flat plain. Walls so steep it is hard to climb, a thread of a bank between the slope and the grass and rushes that line the edge of the drain. But there are fish here, and so we are here too. Tom for some unknown reason didn't have a psycho prince on. I did, and after I had four small rainbows to hand (stream #126), Tom put one on too, and promptly found his own fish. 

Nice little rainbow - Stream #126

You can't lose fishing a big ditch by a culvert

Moving up to another section, Tom spotted a larger fish from his vantage spot at the top of the bank and directed my cast right over the holding fish. First cast a little short, second cast just right, and the fish darted from the bottom to attack....my strike indicator! I saw the full back of maybe a 15" rainbow as it tried to swallow the indicator, ignoring both flies hanging underneath. That was all the action here, so on to our actual destination. 

The destination lake requires about a 3/4 mile hike in, carrying our float tubes. We have never caught large numbers here in recent years, but the fish that are caught are usually good sized. Lots of midges coming off, but no sign of fish. Tried chironomids off the basalt walls, nothing. With it getting warm, we decided to kick around a little to see if we could find anything. Pulling black and green buggers/leeches, I kicked down to one end of the small lake and back, Tom trolled around the rock walls. Nothing. As we passed, Tom tangled the fly line, allowing his intermediate line to sink. Suddenly, fish on! A mad fight as he tried to get the tangle out of the fly line before the good-sized fish made a good run. A short time later, he had a nice 19" to 20" rainbow to hand.

Tom and his nice rainbow, skillfully caught.

A little more trolling found him a couple more strikes, one fought for a short time, but that was it. Out of the lake, we wanted to explore the inlet creek, having fished it years before, but not finding any fish. This time proved to be different. After hiking another 3/4 mile or so, we worked our way down to the creek. The small creek winding through a scabland channel creates a beautiful oasis in the sagebrush-covered landscape. A great-blue heron made way for us as we approached the creek. Stretches of slow meanders lined with cattails, occasionally narrowing to short stretches where it tumbles around and over basalt boulders, the small creek looks promising. It did our last visit also, but this time would prove different.

Beautiful little creek in a scabland canyon

Tom quickly found a few small Tiger trout, while I moved upstream to search for some of my own. After a number of misses, I eventually got this small Tiger hooked and to hand. Stream #127!

Small Tiger trout and Stream #127

Heading back downstream, I moved past Tom to the next stretch of moving water. The small stream, narrowed to barely five or six feet wide, dropped over some large boulders into a frothy pool of water at the head of a nice looking run. As I approached the top of the hole, I had to first make a token toss into the white water before moving a little closer to fish the inviting run below. Unhooking the bead-head olive leech from my rod, I casually tossed it into the bubbly water without pulling out any extra line. Instantly, the water exploded in a huge splash. Not having any slack line off the reel, the rod tip bent sharply down, then bounced right back up, leaving my 4x tippet dangling in the wind. It was over in less than a second, before I could even think about doing anything. Tom had just come down in time to see the whole thing happen. Now that was a fish I wish I could at least have fought for a moment. While I tied back on, Tom moved into position, made a cast downstream into the run, and promptly hooked a monster rainbow for this tiny stream, maybe 19" long. Fought it for a time, but lost it before we could get it to the net. And that was the end of the day. Making our way up out of the small canyon and back to our float tubes, we were marveled at the fish we had lost, while making plans for a return trip to see if we could find them again...  

Scabland Creeks

October 9, 2015 Somewhere East of the Cascades...

My Hanford Friday off led me to plan a trip with Kirk Morris to a couple creeks in the scablands - Nunya and Little Nunya. With the dry weather, Nunya was little and Little Nunya was almost non-existent. But despite the low water we were able to find a few fish.

Early morning arrival at Nunya found the water really low. Hoppers gone, fishing black buggers, me with indicator, Kirk just stripping. Kirk quickly found a nice rainbow.

Kirk and his first rainbow from Nunya

Shortly thereafter, Kirk had a large rainbow, in the range of 18" to 20" explode from under the grass, then dive back into the grass and promptly come unhooked. Things were looking good if the first few holes were like this. We each caught a few, all rainbows about 12" to 16", all on black buggers, all in the first few holes and then in the moving water above the first big stretch of slack water. 

Rick with a bow from water that is normally running

Kirk and a nice 16" rainbow

After that, nothing. No fish spooked, no strikes, and barely enough water to drift. Kirk had one follow at the dirt bank corner, but after that we were ready to leave. It is hoped that the browns have taken shelter in the slack water and under the banks. You can see how low it is from this picture looking down on the corner at the dirt bank.

The dirt bank corner, normally rushing water all the way across

Second stop was Little Nunya. There was so little water, that everywhere was like fishing the still water of a beaver pond. Fish were really spooky, but we were able to get a few. 

A typical Little Nunya rainbow

The real purpose of the adventure was to hike in further to check out the water upstream. Cross country through the sagebrush for about 1.5 miles brought us to the edge of the scabland channel. Looking down we could see water, but almost nothing flowing. Enough for fish to survive, but not enough to entice us to climb down and fish. We will come back another time when more water is flowing to enjoy more than the view. 

Beautiful view of the Little Nunya coulee

With that, our day was done, and we returned home before dark, much to the surprise of our wives. Just so they don't get used to that... 

Returning from Rexburg

The one good thing about dropping of your kid at Rexburg is the trip back. After getting Sarah unloaded and a little bit groceried-up, I headed west to Birch Creek, where the Milky Way filled the overhead sky as I put together my bed in the back of the RAV, and the sound of the creek lulled me to sleep through the slightly open window. I awoke as it was getting light and got things ready for a little fishing before I moved on. Birch Creek was the same as always - clear, fast, not much holding water, but willing fish to be found. I fished long enough to catch these nice little rainbows and a few others, typical of the fish here - 7" to 10" - on a double nymph. It is such a pretty little spot

Nice litte rainbow before the sun was up

A little nicer rainbow shortly thereafter

Enough of the little guys, on to the South Fork of the Boise, my first time to visit there. The first pullout I stopped at, I saw red salmon paired up in the run below (kokanee). So I put on the heavy stonefly and a sockeye bead, and promptly caught a 21" ---- whitefish. Shortly thereafter, a 19" ----- sucker. A couple more very feisty whitefish, then finally a decent sized rainbow, about 12". I kept the bead on and worked my way down the wide run, kind of like fishing the Kulik, except not so many fish and mostly whitefish and you aren't surrounded by grizzly bears. Heck, it was fun. The whitefish were aggressive and fought hard. As I cast into the shore behind a pair of red kokanee, there was an quick hit and a large silver flash, not yellow, that broke the 5x tippet on the strike. Dang! That was likely a rainbow. A short time later, I finally found a thick rainbow, 19" long, and got it into the net.

19" South Fork Boise rainbow

I found a couple more whitefish before moving down to another section, where the water ran fast and heavy. Fishing pocket water and a couple slots along the edge away from the main current, I found a number of other rainbows, up to 14", but that guy leaped from my hand right before I pushed the shutter button. Some on Turk's Tarantula, Size 10 or 12, some on a size 16 irresistible, some on a size 12 golden stone, even one on the psycho prince size 16. This place is a cool canyon, pretty stream, and definitely some nice fish. With a little more exploring, and bringing someone like Tom along who knows what they are doing, and I'm sure we could find more. Come in mid-September when the kokanee are in, and enjoy the poor man's Alaska, beading behind salmon.