Last Day; Browns

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Last day of fishing. Drove an hour and a half to Silverthorne and fished the Blue River with Chris. We were just upstream from Green Mountain Reservoir and in the middle of the White River National Forest. Interesting connections.

The blue was crystal clear - we could easily see directly to the bottom of 10-15 foot pools. The fish could see well, too, spooking before casts were even made. I had fallen in first thing in the morning - a full on, shoulder deep dunk - so I didn't complain much when Chris suggested we bail and hit Clear Creek where the browns should be running. We packed up, hit Wendy's again (ugh), and drove 45 min to Clear Creek. Very odd place. Upstream from a small lake, loaded with browns, the stream runs right next to houses, roads, and a ski-resort further upstream. As Chris had warned, the scenery left a lot to be desired. But hell, we caught fish. A lot of them. Egg patterns of any color, little golden stoneflies, The Werm, and some PTs of various design all killed. It was probably a little unethical, fishing spawning browns, but it was hard to feel bad for such a disturbed stream. It was good practice to sight-fish individuals, watch how the fish examined flies and rejected or took. I was most surprised at how many fish tried to eat flies and simply failed - all those little bumps and tugs that result in no fish make a lot more sense now.

It was good to fish with Chris, too. He takes his fishing very seriously and pays attention to every detail. He's getting ready to compete in nationals here in State College. He'll be staying with us Wed and Thursday nights this week while practicing. It should be good to see him and all the other professionals invade our home waters and show us how it's done. Or not?

Spent the night at our hotel bar with martinis, steak, good wine, and bourbon. Travel was a bit rough, but we made it. Porter is a little underweight so I'll take some time to nurse him back to his full strength. Looking forward to getting him back in shape and getting both of them in the woods.

Too many thoughts about this trip ending to do them justice now. Looking forward to processing some thoughts instead of just logging activities. Archery should be good for some quality thinking time.

Yampa, Steamboat Springs

Headed into town this morning and ate at a little Diner. We've been striking out on good food and this place was no exception. Hit the fly shop afterwards for some RS2s and jujus then drove to the Mt. Werner parking area and jumped in the stream. In town here, the stream looks small, but has some very deep holes and islands creating side channels every so often. We decided to walk downstream from the car and were both immediately untangling stuff, losing flies, and tying on new leaders. Sometimes you're just not operating at 100%.

Around the first bend, though, both Ben and I hooked into some nice rainbows - both on egg patterns. It slowed down a bit for a while and I decided to tie on a streamer and rip it through a long, slow, deep hole that bent around for a hundred yards or so. After a few minutes of stripping that egg-sucking leech through the water, BAM, a fish. A nice fish. Went on a few runs that peeled line from my reel. Ben came up to help net and that fish took off everytime Ben got close. Really nice to finally catch a nice fish on a streamer and really nice to catch a rainbow that big so early in the day. But that was it for the streamer activity. I stayed with it for about an hour, but Ben kept pulling in fish on his Czech nymph rig. I switched and immediately had two fish on, lost them. After regaining composure, I started paying attention a little more closely and pulled a few out of the same hole. The egg pattern kept working all day, so we barely changed it. I did find that a heavier front fly made keeping an eye on the leader a lot easier and also kept the leader tighter, making takes easier to feel/see. We basically walked downstream catching fish left and right. Sometime Ben was into them, sometimes I was. I don't think we had a double on the day, but damn close to it many times.

At the bottom of a slow run, I spooked a huge rainbow. It looked like he darted downstream right behind a rock, so I stood there and took a few casts into the seams behind. After a couple casts the leader took off and I, finally, landed a nice brown trout. We came out here looking for these bruiser fish and besides the two big ones I had on and lost, we've been at a loss to find many browns at all. It was nice to see the bright yellow belly, red spots, huge, predatory mouth. Another couple casts and I nicked into a big rainbow - maybe the same one? He took off like a rocket downstream, through a spillway and was gone as fast as he was on my line. Damn.

Ben and I split up and walked the side channels around an island that formed just below that hole. Ben walked quickly so while I was halfway down, he was coming back upstream on my side. We fished here for a while - I caught another brown, a few rainbows. We moved downstream and I took over a hole Ben had just left. I said, "You didn't catch anything out of here?" He said, "No, I know, it looks fishy..." I must have had a little more weight on than he, because within a few casts I had a rainbow on. He wasn't happy. He was about to get less happy. Two more casts and after a very subtle take, I raised my pole, felt a fish, and saw a huge, huge rainbow take off downstream. My initial reaction caused Ben to stop fishing and immediately walk upstream. Real big fish. Ben was downstream, net ready, and everytime that fish skirted him, he'd lean back, "Woah, man, he's huge!" He fought hard, but didn't cover much ground - we netted him just at the tail of the riffle I'd caught him in. Beautiful rainbow. I marked his length on my pole and took a few pictures before releasing him. Even as he swam away his size was impressive.

I was a bit shaken after that and took my time before starting to fish again. I divyed up the rest of my egg patterns - they were obviously killing. We worked a little further downstream before turning back toward the car. Ben hooked into a very, very nice rainbow on another side channel. Huge fish, but looked sickly as hell - gross web-like markings all over the fish. Hardly wanted to touch the damn thing. After a few more fish we decided to jump out and just b-line for the car. It had been a good day, the first where I didn't need a coat or a winter hat. 60 degrees and sunny. It would have been nice to end the day with some dry fly action, but a damn good day nonetheless.

Yampa tailwater

With reports of snow from back home - a lot of it - we had some of our best weather of the trip yesterday, although it started out threatening to rain. After hitting Steamboat Fly Fishers and getting semi-turned around we hit the Yampa tailwater, right below the dam. Immediately saw big, beautiful rainbows in the river and went to work. One small one on a 20bwo. Then riggged up a weighted nymph system to float flies to some lunkers stationed at the bottom of a hole - one finally took a pt soft hackle, 18. Nice fish. Then I really started to concentrate on the larger fish sipping the surface on the far bank. After a while, I finally found the best way to drift to them and pulled 4 out on a size 18, gray bwo pattern. Thick fish with experienced jaws and bright red colors. Found it odd some would fight like hell, others seemed to know the drill and came to the net with hardly an objection. I like the fighters. Ben was frustrated at the beginning of the day - me at the end. He was pulling fish out at the end of the day left and right with nymphs. I don't think I caught one fish using anything but dries and that soft hackle. I did hook a real nice one on size 10 egg sucking leech I was ripping through the spoil at the foot of the dam. Still didn't fight too hard, though.
Strange water. Small with constant flow, crystal clear, loaded with fish, vegetation in spots, and fisherman around every corner. Not the opening day type of crowds you see in PA, but probably 10 guys on a 200 yrd section of stream. Couldn't walk downstream past a huge rock outcrop so we were all fishing the same water. Fish were everywhere, but very selective. Scenery was amazing - tucked in this steep canyon with golden grass, yellow poplars, and dark green spruce and fir. All it was missing was some elk.
Spent the night in the Tug Boat playing arcade games and pool. Met some guy who used to live in Bethel, VT of all places. Rounds were bought and consumed. Woke this morning to a picture from Paul of a tree down in their back yard. Their trees are big, yard small. I hope everyone is ok. Glad I'm missing the ridiculousness of mid-October snow storms in PA.

Snake River

October, 13, 2009. Spent last night on Noah's "L" couch playing footsies with Ben all night. Woke up early and hit a coffee shop so Ben could finish some work before we hit the stream. Light rain met us through warmer weather. The guide called and said we should get there as soon as possible due to the morning warmth. Seemed like a good sign... As we loaded the boat and got ready to push off the sun was cracking through the clouds and we couldn't help but anticipate a good day on the river. The fat, double-humpy, streamer-size dry flies the guide "Boots" was tying on just got us down right giddy. As has been the case, our expectations were hardly met.

Ben and I had two fish on right away, I lost mine immediately and Ben lost his, a very nice cutthroat, after a long fight. I had another one on shortly after and, after a little fight, lost him, too. Damn. A few whitefish were caught. A couple small cutthroat, too. But most of the day was spent floating ridiculous dry flies down beautiful runs of water to no avail. The Tetons were shrouded in clouds, showers scattered the valley, and the water was gorgeous; steep runs dropping off into emerald green pools.

Finally, at the end of the day, we started to catch some fish. Ben landed a nice 18" cutthroat, I caught one slightly smaller on a size 18 parachute bwo. Interesting fish - save for the first fish ben hooked into, the fish we caught had very little color to most of their body. The exception were the fins, which had turned a bright red/orange for the fall, and the orange slits on the underside of the gills.

Kind of a disappointing day given our expectations at the start. Would have been nice to have a killer day on Ben's birthday and on such a famous river.

We left and drove down Rt191 to Rock Springs for the evening. "Swine flue" kept us from staying with David. Tomorrow we'll finish the drive to Steamboat and set up shop for the final days of the trip.

Yellowstone, Teton

Got up relatively early and hit the road. 191 south out of Bozeman through the Gallatin Gateway and canyon. Ridiculously gorgeous river meandering at the base of steep, tallused slopes. Doug fir and spruce trees covering everything but the steepest parts. The canyon opened up into a wide, brushy valley with no nothin'. Drove on to West Yellowstone. This time around it didn't seem as terribly commercial, but then again we didn't stop save for gas. Paid our $25 and headed into the park. Followed the Madison River behind slow cars, passengers searching for wildlife. Fist a coyote. Then a herd of elk, then bison. Wild to think how abundant these creatures used to be before we extirpated them and replaced them with cows. Interesting decision. Stopped at the Grand Prismatic Spring and Old Faithful (missed the eruption by 30min or so). Headed on south out of the park. The road wound its way up and over the continental divide while the snow fell. Ice and snow covered roads made for slow going. Soon enough, though, we exited the park, the sky cleared and off in the distance, the Tetons loomed. Sneaking glimpses through the trees we made our way down through muddy roads, under construction, toward the mountains. Ben must have taken 1000 photos - the northern view simply captures your imagination. Knowing that Noah has scaled most of those jagged peaks is pretty impressive.

With the Tetons in the rearview mirror we headed into Jackson and on through to Wilson, WY and Noah's house. Ben did some work, we scheduled the float for the following day, and organized the house. Dinner at Q - ribs and chicken fried chicken. Shake-a-day, couple rounds, and IWTUIUWBMAD. Cops showed up to harrass the people smoking reefer on the deck. No one got in trouble. Headed out, gingerly, up the pass to crash on the couch. For Ben's birthday we float the Snake.

Lost day

Sat in Bacchus, an Irish pub in Bozeman, for a lot of hours yesterday. Boddingtons, Guiness, and The Mark. French onion soup, fish and chips, reuban, Red Sox knocked out, Pats lose, hung out with Pat, Vincent, Larkin, Jesse, met a guy from Fairbanks who owned land in Sullivan County, picked on some poor MSU student who looked 17, spent too much money, stayed too long, fell asleep around 10 back at holiday inn. Going to drive to Jackson, WY via Yellowstone today. Snake tomorrow, then Steamboat Springs for the remainder. Lots of thoughts swirling about where my head will be at upon return. Hope I can focus on writing and hunting until year's end.

The Missouri Lift

Saturday, October 10, 2009.
Packed up the cabin early in the morning and, after a final look around to seal memories, headed north to Wolf Creek and the Missouri River. During my freshman or sophomore year at Juniata I'd ordered a tourism booklet from Montana and, eyes closed, dropped my finger on the map. Wolf Creek. Whether or not the fishing was good, this would be a good day to remember.

Got off at the Wolf Creek exit on I-15 and headed to the Wolf Creek bridge over the Missouri. Just below Holter Dam, the river is wide, deep, and swirling. The temperature on the dash read 14 and the steam rolling off the river swirled in the wind. Faintly, but surely, we saw risers on the water. Randomly placed and inconsistent, but risers nonetheless. We stopped the car when we spooked two Golden Eagles off the river bank not 10 yards from the car. Ben snapped a few photos and we watched them perch in a tree on the far side of the river. An angry, defensive Magpie screeched complaints across the river to them. We drove to the dam and were convinced by the bitterly cold wind and the deep waters to drive back downstream and find a place to jump in.

Past the Wolf Creek bridge the valley opened up and an epic view, littered with mule deer filled the windshield. Bald eagles, golden eagles and other, unidentified hawks soared overhead. Ben's colleague Franklin Hall recommended the tips and tails of the few islands in the river. Sure enough, we stopped at a pull off and watched a massive pod of fish sip bwos and midges behind the closest island. A peregrin falcon cruised over the island, hunting. We suited up in the cold, cold weather and got in the water. Reminder: taking off your pants and socks in 14 degree weather should be avoided when possible.

The fish proved to be elusive. A mink was crawling along the bank, through the tangle of a beaver hut. Paul took pictures at about 3 feet as the critter responded to my kiss-calls. Woodcock infested the island, flitting 100 yrds away when spooked. Coots cruised the river and dove for fish.

Ben set up shop fishing downstream to the risers while Paul and I crossed the island and snuck downstream to attempt upstream casts. The fish quickly caught on and stopped rising. I stood watching, waiting for the fish to turn back on when I felt a familiar tug on my rod - fish on! And off, after a quick jump. Huh. Nice fish, bit while my flies were just hanging in the current. Huh. I think I can do that. I cast a few times across the current and slightly downstream letting the flies drift, catch, submerge, and hang before recasting. Nothing. Hm. Maybe a different fly. Tied on a Kaufman's stimulator size 10 and a size 20 black beauty dropper. A few casts later, flies submerged, the water erupted. As my pole rose to set the hook I saw a fish the size of my leg roll in the current, at least 20 inches of fish was visible and I never saw the head...or the tail. Monster, monster fish. That roll did something right for the fish because as soon as he was on he came off. I was dumbfounded. A few more dazed casts later I realized the damn fish had broke my Kaufman's stimulator hook in half, right at the start of the bend it snapped. WTF. The gods are toying with me now.

We fished all day. Warming at the car twice. Once to drive back to the dam and try our luck in the wind. No luck. Frozen waders. The wind would freeze our waders around our legs like armor. Crazy. Sharp-tailed grouse and mule deer dotted the drive along the river. Back downstream past the bridge to Craig we jumped in and watched some risers along a rip-rap bank. Then we watched a guy and his dog in a canoe run over all those fish... F. At the car I said, "Why the hell have we been ignoring The Werm??" Tied it on with that Black Beauty behind. Second cast into the first riffle my line took off. Big fish. Reel screamed. I yelled "fish on" to Ben and Paul. Ben came down with a net to help, but as he got to the bank my line, still taught, stopped moving. I started swearing, cursing - thought the damn fish had snagged me on the bottom or in the carpet of weeds on the riverbed and swam off. Ben cut in quickly and told me he'd read about "The Missouri Lift." Apparently, these fish bury themselves in the weed beds and you have to lift them out before you can net them. In disbelief I reeled myself down to the fish and sure enough, lifted him right out of the weeds. Ben netted on the second try and his net was covered with vegetation, weeds spilling over dragging in the water. In the middle of them was a nice 20 inch, 3lb rainbow. Best fish of the trip so far (in the net). Yes. Mission accomplished. Caught a nice, fat trout near Wolf Creek, MT.



Fished the rest of the day and snapped photos of the surrounds. Geese, ducks, falcons, hawks, eagles, and mule deer surrounded us. Fish rose sporadically, enough to convince us to tie on size 20 and 22 dries, but not enough to allow themselves to get caught. The wind blew and the temperature dropped. Waders froze. Fingers and faces tingled, turning red, golden sunlight reflected on lenses. Breath froze and swung south in the wind. At sunset we headed back to the car and had a toast to our last day with Paul.

Saw some very nice mule deer buck on the way out of the valley. A coyote sat, patiently waiting for dusk.

Joined Franklin at his house and headed to Windbags for a huge prime rib, whiskey (about a 5oz pour), and strong IPAs. Toyed with Helena hearts at Big Dorothy's. Headed to Alto's, aka, "the tow." Nothin' doin. Walked home and chased mule deer down the streets of Helena. Woke early. Paul's borrowed travel rod wouldn't come apart. After calls to Orvis and repeated techniques the "behind the knee pull," recommended by the customer service agent, snapped the pole. Shit. Glad he was done fishing. Hopefully Orvis will honor their no-questions-asked lifetime warrenty...

Drove back to Belgrade, coffee at a Rocky Mountain Roasting Co., dropped Paul at airport and spend time getting him on a different flight from Denver to Dulles - United canceled on him... Snow fell, blowing through the streets.

Probably taking the day to rest, do work, and take a breath before jumping into our second full week. Hopefully the weather and the fishing will get better.

The Missouri, Wolf Creek, and that lunker will continue calling.