Solitude is Enough

I woke up at 3:45 a.m. to the sound of whimpering. A western low pressure system brought us some very intense wind and torrential rains and Lucy, our German shorthaired pointer, did not like it one bit.

Our local trout, however, are loving the stormy weather. 

While a lot of people head over to the Salmon River in central Idaho this time of year in search of steelhead, I've been staying close to home to target some nice, healthy inland 'bows.

It's hard to justify the long drive over to the Salmon right now, with the high cost of gas and the lackluster fish counts this year.

Around here, there is a direct correlation between temperature and fishing pressure.  

As the temperatures drop, so do the numbers of fishermen on the river. 

This trend will continue and I expect the fishing to get better as the pressure abates. 

Catching large fish on small flies and light tippet is always rewarding.  Streamers are great fun, but they are big and bulky - and photographing a fish with a face full of marabou detracts from the whole aesthetic.

I was not expecting to find carp actively feeding in 34 degree weather, but it was a nice surprise when my black wooly bugger was inhaled by this guy.

The South Fork

Later in the week, I got out on the South Fork with Shane.  The fishing was a bit disappointing, but exploring remote feeder channels with good company made for a nice day overall.  Here are a few snapshots from our South Fork outing.


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DIY Dirtbag Fly Box:  A Three-Step Tutorial
If you are a cheap dirtbag like me, you may appreciate Oscar Meyer's new semi-waterproof lunch meat containers.

Step One

Step Two

Step Three

"To give thanks in solitude is enough. 

Thanksgiving has wings and goes where it must go."

Victor Hugo

Have a great holiday. 

Thank God for Tailwaters

Well, it's official.  Winter has arrived and our delightful Indian summer is now but a memory. 

I don't mind.  The rivers will be more peaceful now, as only a handful of us diehards will be on the water braving the cold for the next three months.  

"Bring it on," I say.

I welcome the solitude.

The dog and I renew our bond each winter.  She loves the snow, along with the critters that hide beneath it.  There are cross-country ski trips to be had up Darby Canyon and South Leigh Creek.

For now, however, the barley farm behind our house is her kingdom.  She rules the roost and the local skunks, pheasants, ducks and field mice heed her call.

I managed to sneak away just before old man winter arrived for an outing with Shane on a gorgeous fall day.  Although the bright sun and cloudless bluebird skies kept the bugs down and killed the streamer bite, the nymphing was quite good.

Shane Thomas Photo

Is there anything in the world a flashback pheasant tail nymph can't accomplish?

As I sit here typing, I can hear snow flakes landing on our metal roof.  Winter is just beginning, but I am already thinking about a spring trip to the tropics.  Campeche for baby tarpon?  Punta Allen or Andros for bones?

Or maybe, given my budget (or lack thereof), I should just head over to Miami to visit the folks and hit the Biscayne flats.

My Attempt at a Split Screen Rainbow Release

Apparently a lot of people are thinking about spring trips to the tropics, as I've noticed a large spike in blog visits from folks searching the web for "DIY bonefishing Turks and Caicos."

It's that time of year.

No more warm, bluebird days with rolled up sleeves. Not around here at least.  Not for about six months.

I absolutely love our local rivers in the winter.  It's hard to imagine a more serene, peaceful and engaging setting than the Henry's Fork or the South Fork on a stormy winter's day.  

Imagine listening to snow flakes land while noses gently peek above the surface during a midge hatch. Imagine dark skies, tranquil water and slow-moving dorsal fins.

Some of the best dry fly fishing of the year will occur between now and Christmas, yet very few people will experience it.  

It has been a wonderful fall with some incredible fishing, but I am ready for winter and the change of pace. 

Thank God for tailwaters.

The Bay of Pigs Invasion

On 1 November 2012, the joint chiefs of staff executed a covert operation at a top secret rendezvous point.

Code Name: the "Bay of Pigs Invasion"

The Bay of Pigs Invasion was a successful action by a force of fly fishing commandos to invade CLASSIFIED, in an attempt to land fat bows, cuttbows and browns using stealth, weapons-grade fly munitions and hand-to-fin combat techniques.

Private First Class Shane Thomas and the Spoils of Victory

On 28 October 2012, President Obama was briefed, together with all the major departments, on the latest plan that involved the deployment of three (3) men to be landed in a shore-borne invasion at CLASSIFIED, about 270 km (170 mi) south-east of CLASSIFIED.

LOGISTICS:  CLASSIFIED had good port facilities, it was closer to many existing counter-revolutionary activities, it had an easily defensible beachhead, and it offered an escape route into the CLASSIFIED Mountains.

Torpedo vs. #16 PT Nymph

When that scheme was subsequently rejected by the State Department, however, the CIA went on to propose an alternative plan.

THE FINAL PLAN:  On 30 October 2012, President Obama then approved the Bay of Pigs plan (also known as Operation Hare's Ear), because it had an airfield that would not need to be extended to handle bomber operations, it was farther away from large groups of civilians than the prior plan, and it was less "noisy" militarily.

Consistent with former vice president Dick Cheney's policies on torture, the use of SEX DUNGEONS was authorized by the white house.

PFC Thomas - Doing His Part for the Nation

Combat Wounded Veteran

The president authorized the active departments to continue, and to report progress.

PFC Thomas in Action

From 07:30 to 19:30 hours, multiple fly sorties were thrown from shore and mid-river positions.

Commander Cutler, Providing Support to Our Ally

The invasion ended at approximately 19:45 hours.

The operation was deemed a complete success, with over 70 combatants brought to hand.

Out There

 Have you seen Idylwilde Flies' new slogan "Fish More, Pose Less?"   

They nailed it.

Don't talk about it; do it.

 

It was a very good week here in east Idaho.  The Henry's Fork produced some great fishing.

There's nothing better than a dark, stormy sky blanketing the river in the fall. 

The browns are getting ready to spawn, so it is high time to shift gears.

Thus, I hit the river in search of bows and located three or four solid fish from the get-go.

Nothing to write home about, but some good, solid fish.  

Then a school bus slammed my sex dungeon.

 

A few minutes later, this fat hen came to hand.

Thank You, Piglet

 You know what's cool?  Some of the year's best fishing is yet to come.

You know what is not cool?  Hooking another pig and losing it because the sink tip on my SA Streamer Express line broke in two.  The tippet held, my knots held, but the line busted at a crack in the head.

I lunged into the river to try and grab the line as the hog swam away but, alas, that fish was fast on its way to another zip code. 

Sheesh.

Bucket List Browns in the Backcountry

The alarm clock said it was 3:40 a.m.  Normally, getting up at this hour would be a tough proposition, but not today.  Today was the day I'd reserved to fish Bucket List Destination #39...a place where large migrating brown trout and shallow-water lake trout are known to slam streamers.  A place where the fish are described in pounds, not inches.  A place deep in the heart of wolf and grizzly country where one of your primary goals is simply making it out alive.

I met up with Shane and Chris at 4:30 a.m. We packed our gear, bear bells, pepper spray and food in the truck and hit the road. Today's forecast? A nice mix of rain/sun/sleet/snow/hail and winds in excess of 30 m.p.h. Hey, at least we could expect some cloud cover, right?

We hiked roughly 14 miles total over rolling terrain in rough weather.  Was BLD39 worth all the effort?  You bet.  See below...

Chris Cutler Releasing a Migrating Brown Trout

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Chris Cutler photo

After the initial five mile hike in, we arrived at the outlet of a large lake where we started swinging streamers.  There were multiple pods of lakers congregated in the shallows above the outlet and Shane and Chris laid into them instantly.  These were not the lakers of legend I've read about in local folklore, but they were feisty, strong fish nonetheless.

Shane After a Big Mack Attack (Chris Cutler photo)

Shane Thomas photo

After a few minutes, the wind began to howl and whitecaps formed on the lake. In the distance, fierce gusts snapped 100' tall trees in half like toothpicks. 

Man, it was cold. 'Two wet layers under your jacket and shivering down to your toes' cold. I was starting to lose muscle memory.  Tying knots or casting with any measure of proficiency had become a challenge. I needed to move and, after we got into a few more macks, we headed downriver.

Movement was good.  It got the blood flowing and raised the core temperature.

Venturing into the river, we quickly encountered the fish we'd read about in the scrolls of local legend. 

This is why we were here.  Complete solitude, desolate wilderness, and large German browns.

Shane Thomas photo

The fish were moving upriver in pods of 4 or 5.  You could distinguish the rust-colored males fairly easily, while the females resembled subtle gray torpedoes. 

The recipe for success involved swinging a streamer in or around the pod - causing your fly to crash their little party and provoke a fight.

One of Chris's Many Nice Browns (Chris Cutler photo)

Chris Cutler photo

Shane with a Nice Brown on the Way Back Out (Chris Cutler photo)

These fish were busy migrating from their usual lake haunts to their spawning grounds a few miles upstream. We were quite fortunate to spend some quality time with them along the way.

We began the trek back to the trailhead at 5:30 p.m. Distant peaks that were dry on the way in were now blanketed with snow. By 7:30 p.m., we were hiking in a state of near darkness, 15 hours after the journey began.

We'd maintained a very good pace until something dark, large and brown ahead of us on the trail caught our attention. We stopped dead in our tracks.

"Wait...what the heck is that?"
"Looks like a bear to me."
"Me too."
"HEY BEAR!!!!!!"

I pulled the safety clip off my canister of  pepper spray.

"I think it's moving toward us."
"Me too."
"HEY BEAR!!!!"

We started walking backwards slowly while repeating our mantra in the darkness.   I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

Thirty seconds later, no movement.  A hasty headlamp retrieval from one of our packs finally revealed the truth - it was a large tree trunk that had fallen across the trail.

Funny how your mind and eyes can play tricks on you in the dark.

Road Trippin': Craig, Montana and the Mighty Mo

A Missouri River Rainbow vs. a Skiddish Smolt Pattern

It's a bummer when work gets in the way of fishing, but I don't mind so much when my work takes me to Helena; a wee hop south of the fly fishing mecca of Craig, Montana.

Three days of work in Helena this week resulted in three evenings of fishing on the Mo.

As each work day came to close, I zipped up the road to take advantage of the last remaining hours of daylight - fishing between Holter Dam and the town boat ramp.  There were very few people on the water mid-week and the hoots and howls of owls and coyotes dominated the soundscape. 

Other than a brief cloudy window on Wednesday evening, bluebird skies and heavy winds were the dominant weather pattern.  This kept the bugs off the water for the most part and, although this stretch of the river is famous for head hunting with dry flies, the majority of the action on this trip was subsurface.

I was a little disappointed I wasn't able to experience the river's legendary dry fly action, but it's the bugs and fish who determine what is on the menu, right?  Nonetheless, the subsurface action was outstanding.

 

The river below the dam feels like a very large spring creek, with gin clear water, thick vegetation and lots of aquatic invertebrates.  I noticed a lot of large rainbows coming up into the shallows as dusk approached, apparently to feed on the hordes of crayfish I observed along the banks.

The blue ribbon stretch of river below the Holter Dam holds over 4,000 fish per mile with a "rainbows to browns" ratio of roughly 5:1.  The rainbows in this stretch are without a doubt the feistiest trout I have ever landed.  

Missouri River trout are well-fed, large-shouldered linebackers.

 

You know what else is cool about Craig?  Cheap motels and diners.  Lots of good local fly shops.  Minimal development.  Nice people.

Heck yeah, it was a darn good time and I can't wait to get back up there again.