Saturday, September 25, 2010
Night Moves on The Mid
After a 10-year + hiatus, I hooked up with an old fishing friend, Mr. Nate Woodward, for a trip to the Middle Provo River recently. We go way back to high school days fishing together and we haven't skipped a beat since. After several pan fries of late, I have been wanting to hook into something a bit more sizey after hours. Nate filled that role nicely, catching a nice 17" brownie just before total darkness. This was not yet the big time lunker fish I had been looking to land this summer, but it certainly opened my eyes to the fact that the predatory fish indeed come out at night. It is a totally different ball game because as a fisherman, your senses adjust at night fall: what's lost to the sense of sight must be compensated for with a heightened sense of feel. You have a chance to immerse yourself in the darkness, rather than fear the darkness. Night time is the right time for a chance at catching something big time. Therefore, I look forward to more adventures such as this one in the near future.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
A Lone Cheer for BYUI: The Fork
I'm not a BYU fan. But I am a fan of one of their satellite campuses. And for one week out of the year, I'm grateful my nephew and good friend attend this satellite campus, namely BYU-Idaho, but I still like to keep it old school with Ricks. And why am I a fan of him and his attendance at Ricks? It isn't the education that my donations subsidize, it isn't the gorgeous temple a few minutes from his apartment, it isn't the bucolic farming town that is Rexburg, ID, even though all of these things are certainly plusses.
It is simply because of the rivers and only because of the rivers in and around Rexburg, Idaho that I am a fan. I retract that now and will reduce it down to just a river, actually The River.
This is not any old body of water to a fly-fisherman, but a world class, blue-ribbon, text-book, foam-at-the-mouth river. This is the river that hosts fly-fishing documentaries, fly-fishing articles, fly-fishing novels, fly-fishing memories, and fly-fishing dreams. To many, this is the greatest river in the country to pursue trout on a fly, if not in the world.
I speak of none other than the Henry's Fork of the Snake River. I'd better throw in it's tributaries as well.
Zak and Sam again allowed me to utilize their humble apartment as a take-off point for their summer fishing vacation. Sam was pregnant at the time and made for a very gracious and patient hostess. I'm sure all the fishing stories and stratagems got pretty boring for her to listen to, but she is and always has been a "great sport" in general. This was the second year we had done this trip on this river system, so we had a bit more confidence and knowledge of what to fish and when than in the 2008 trip. The question was: could we improve our results?
Answer: no and yes.
No: We failed to catch a sizable trout on the Henry's Fork. By sizable I mean something above 14 inches. Note below that Zak did catch a sizable whitefish which fought more like a log than a living organism. We were still grateful for the bend in his rod, the smile on his face, and the exhausted biceps from a 15 minute fight. Zak also had a huge brown trout on, that non-chalantly broke his line when he realized he was hooked. That would have been the trout to mount on the cabin wall. I know because I saw it with mine own eyes.
Yes: We did do better on the famous Railroad Ranch Section this year. The incredible Green Drake Hatch did indeed occur for us on 7/5/2010, which was quite the sight. Large size #10-12 "sailboat" flies helplessly floating down the smooth water, to get pounded by small fish that could hardly mouth them properly. The spinner fall was sweet at dusk and yielded some nicer fish. Why is it that every hooked fish through The Ranch fights like it's at least a few inches bigger and a few ounces heavier than it really is? These fish have attitude, spunk, and smarts. I simply like to consider these fish snobs that have way too much food and way too much time to be picky, so when they're caught they get ticked. As always, the views were incredible, and I wanted to sit and soak in the beautiful surroundings more than fish for the first hour, something that rarely happens when I have a rod in my hand and am on a trout river.
Oh yeah, we caught dozens of fish on the Warm River to boost our fishing confidence. We also discovered the pristine Robinson Creek, running through what felt like rugged and high bear country.
All in all, it was an incredible trip, one that I hope to do either annually or bi-annually. We still haven't caught the mounter out of the Henry's Fork of the Snake, but at least we have confidence that such fish do exist there and can even be fooled into taking huge flies now and again. So I will continue to hold onto the memories of the past and dream of big fish in the future on this river.
Meanwhile, I just need to figure out a way to keep Zak at Ricks for a few more years. Otherwise, I need to wait until my next neice, nephew, or friend goes up there so I have another fishing take-off point.
It is simply because of the rivers and only because of the rivers in and around Rexburg, Idaho that I am a fan. I retract that now and will reduce it down to just a river, actually The River.
This is not any old body of water to a fly-fisherman, but a world class, blue-ribbon, text-book, foam-at-the-mouth river. This is the river that hosts fly-fishing documentaries, fly-fishing articles, fly-fishing novels, fly-fishing memories, and fly-fishing dreams. To many, this is the greatest river in the country to pursue trout on a fly, if not in the world.
I speak of none other than the Henry's Fork of the Snake River. I'd better throw in it's tributaries as well.
Zak and Sam again allowed me to utilize their humble apartment as a take-off point for their summer fishing vacation. Sam was pregnant at the time and made for a very gracious and patient hostess. I'm sure all the fishing stories and stratagems got pretty boring for her to listen to, but she is and always has been a "great sport" in general. This was the second year we had done this trip on this river system, so we had a bit more confidence and knowledge of what to fish and when than in the 2008 trip. The question was: could we improve our results?
Answer: no and yes.
No: We failed to catch a sizable trout on the Henry's Fork. By sizable I mean something above 14 inches. Note below that Zak did catch a sizable whitefish which fought more like a log than a living organism. We were still grateful for the bend in his rod, the smile on his face, and the exhausted biceps from a 15 minute fight. Zak also had a huge brown trout on, that non-chalantly broke his line when he realized he was hooked. That would have been the trout to mount on the cabin wall. I know because I saw it with mine own eyes.
Yes: We did do better on the famous Railroad Ranch Section this year. The incredible Green Drake Hatch did indeed occur for us on 7/5/2010, which was quite the sight. Large size #10-12 "sailboat" flies helplessly floating down the smooth water, to get pounded by small fish that could hardly mouth them properly. The spinner fall was sweet at dusk and yielded some nicer fish. Why is it that every hooked fish through The Ranch fights like it's at least a few inches bigger and a few ounces heavier than it really is? These fish have attitude, spunk, and smarts. I simply like to consider these fish snobs that have way too much food and way too much time to be picky, so when they're caught they get ticked. As always, the views were incredible, and I wanted to sit and soak in the beautiful surroundings more than fish for the first hour, something that rarely happens when I have a rod in my hand and am on a trout river.
Oh yeah, we caught dozens of fish on the Warm River to boost our fishing confidence. We also discovered the pristine Robinson Creek, running through what felt like rugged and high bear country.
All in all, it was an incredible trip, one that I hope to do either annually or bi-annually. We still haven't caught the mounter out of the Henry's Fork of the Snake, but at least we have confidence that such fish do exist there and can even be fooled into taking huge flies now and again. So I will continue to hold onto the memories of the past and dream of big fish in the future on this river.
Meanwhile, I just need to figure out a way to keep Zak at Ricks for a few more years. Otherwise, I need to wait until my next neice, nephew, or friend goes up there so I have another fishing take-off point.
Sunday, June 06, 2010
The Purist
Many people have, over my years of fishing, asked me my favorite technique to use while fly-fishing. My answers have varied based on the technique that has brought me the most success in the recent past. Nymphing usually seems to be the answer during the winter. Dry-fly fishing takes the cake in the late summer. Streamer fishing is a blast during high water events or during stormy weather when the predatory instincts of the fish are in overdrive. They each have their perks and their challenges.
The conversation then usually morphs into what form of fly-fishing is the most "pure". The implication is that fly-fishermen are purists (read: elitists) and they should enjoy the technique that is therefore most pure, meaning most natural, elegant, even showy. This question used to really perplex me. Is it most pure to look at fly-fishing from a historical perspective, leading one to answer that dry-fly fishing is the purest because that is how it started, two centuries ago? Or is it more pure to fish the technique that represents more than 90% of a trout's daily diet throughout the year, nymphing and wet-fly fishing? On the other hand, is it most pure to fish the method that taps into a trout's natural predatory instincits, representing flashy wounded minnows with large and often gaudy streamers?
The more I fly-fish, however, the more I realize that the method really doesn't matter. Of course I have my personal favorite method. But I have spent far too much time trying to force the fish to take a certain fly when they clearly were not interested, all in the name of being pure. No matter how hard you want to, you can't induce a dry-fly hatch if the fish aren't looking up. Trust me, I've tried; it's only the rare opportunist that will take a random fly on the surface when no other surface activity has been occurring. There are forces of nature, rhythms of feeding and seasonal patterns and lunar cycles and water flows and air temperatures and an entire host of variables that are at work here, which are much larger and more complex than any one of us can imagine. And the perfect size #16 elk hair caddis float down a slick that you know is a prime feeding lane for trout because you've seen them there before can't overcome these forces. The trout isn't even in charge, much less the fisherman. It is nature herself calling the shots, with her grand perspective and infinite wisdom of what constitutes the cycles of life. We fly-fishermen are left to try and unravel the puzzle. And believe me, it is much easier to unravel that puzzle of what the fish are eating with a flexible mindset, one based on adapting and overcoming and a willingness to try new flies and new techniques.
Which brings us full circle, back to the original question. What is the purest form of fly-fishing? The technique that catches fish and that brings you joy. For we shouldn't fly-fish if we're not enjoying it, after all. And who is my mentor that captures the essence of this flexibility, purism, overcoming, and a willingness to do what it takes? I present Mr. Osprey, the purest fisher of us all.
The conversation then usually morphs into what form of fly-fishing is the most "pure". The implication is that fly-fishermen are purists (read: elitists) and they should enjoy the technique that is therefore most pure, meaning most natural, elegant, even showy. This question used to really perplex me. Is it most pure to look at fly-fishing from a historical perspective, leading one to answer that dry-fly fishing is the purest because that is how it started, two centuries ago? Or is it more pure to fish the technique that represents more than 90% of a trout's daily diet throughout the year, nymphing and wet-fly fishing? On the other hand, is it most pure to fish the method that taps into a trout's natural predatory instincits, representing flashy wounded minnows with large and often gaudy streamers?
The more I fly-fish, however, the more I realize that the method really doesn't matter. Of course I have my personal favorite method. But I have spent far too much time trying to force the fish to take a certain fly when they clearly were not interested, all in the name of being pure. No matter how hard you want to, you can't induce a dry-fly hatch if the fish aren't looking up. Trust me, I've tried; it's only the rare opportunist that will take a random fly on the surface when no other surface activity has been occurring. There are forces of nature, rhythms of feeding and seasonal patterns and lunar cycles and water flows and air temperatures and an entire host of variables that are at work here, which are much larger and more complex than any one of us can imagine. And the perfect size #16 elk hair caddis float down a slick that you know is a prime feeding lane for trout because you've seen them there before can't overcome these forces. The trout isn't even in charge, much less the fisherman. It is nature herself calling the shots, with her grand perspective and infinite wisdom of what constitutes the cycles of life. We fly-fishermen are left to try and unravel the puzzle. And believe me, it is much easier to unravel that puzzle of what the fish are eating with a flexible mindset, one based on adapting and overcoming and a willingness to try new flies and new techniques.
Which brings us full circle, back to the original question. What is the purest form of fly-fishing? The technique that catches fish and that brings you joy. For we shouldn't fly-fish if we're not enjoying it, after all. And who is my mentor that captures the essence of this flexibility, purism, overcoming, and a willingness to do what it takes? I present Mr. Osprey, the purest fisher of us all.
Saturday, May 01, 2010
Freestoning again
Eric and I hit the Middle Provo today amid blustery winds and flurries. The hatch was pretty thin, probably due to the shifting low pressure system. We took a couple off the surface, but the chunky browns were all sub-surface. The Bend is fishing as great as ever. Thank goodness for the trusty pheasant tail nymph to salvage the day! As always, the proof is in the pudding and in the pics.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Agony and Ecstasy
I have taken a few weeks off from fly-fishing to run the Salt Lake Marathon. Having prepared for this for the past 3 months, I was eager to finally 'get r done.' A special thanks to the Van Wagenen Family for some helpful encouragement at a tough mile 17 on the course. It was awesome to hear Art sing "War Pigs" as I ran by, while Jasmine (6 months pregnant) waddled along cheering. This scene was like fuel to my fire, and I was able to step on the gas a bit until mile 23.
Run on.
I'm hearing the Blue Wings are out in force, as are the occasional Skwala's, on the Middle Provo. With this beautiful weather, it's time to get back on the water before run-off starts in full-swing and the pristine waters turn to chocolate milk for the next 8 weeks.
Fish on.
Run on.
I'm hearing the Blue Wings are out in force, as are the occasional Skwala's, on the Middle Provo. With this beautiful weather, it's time to get back on the water before run-off starts in full-swing and the pristine waters turn to chocolate milk for the next 8 weeks.
Fish on.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Hot fishing amid cold temps on the Green River
Matt, Kevin, and I headed up to float Section A of the Green River. A late-Spring snow storm did not deter us, nor did the lonely girls dressed in PJ's in the Maverick Gas Station in Mountain View, UT. The snows did not relent for the entire day, leaving me wondering at times why I wasn't skiing in the deep powder rather than fishing the freezing temps. I personally only stayed as warm as the fishing was good. Fortunately, the fishing in the afternoon did warm up. Of course, on the Green one is always guaranteed the catch of breathtaking scenery. I have a new appreciation of this river, as I had never fished it in a snowstorm. The fresh snow on the green junipers, set against the red rock cliffs, certainly made for some memorable scenery, regardless of the fishing. Either way, the fishing did improve. Enjoy this video of Matt's underwater release of a nice rainbow, one of 20 we caught on the trip. Excuse the jitteriness of the video; rod-bending and fish-landing tend to get everyone in a bit of a fray.
Fishing was fine for all.
Kevin with a nice rainbow...
Matt showing us how to slay with streamers...
Fishing was fine for all.
Kevin with a nice rainbow...
Matt showing us how to slay with streamers...
Saturday, March 20, 2010
TD Tal with his TD Trout
I take my hat off to my nephew, Talmage Gunther, who braved sub-freezing temps, blowing snow, and up-canyon winds to fish the Lower Provo River with my bro-in-law Bruce and I last Saturday. This was Tal's first full-fledged fly-fishing experience with the "big boys" and he held his own just fine for a 12-year old in tough weather. In fact, he nailed a nice brownie (with just a bit of tactical help from Dad - call it a "team catch") on a size 18 bead-head nymph in a tight ripple.
The real "catch" was the bald eagle we all spotted within 5 minutes of getting out of the car. Usually, baldies are seen soaring hundreds of feet up on the rising therms. This one, however, was clearly in hunting mode, only 20 feet above the river corridor, eyes laser-focused, wings quivering for stability. It was the closest shot I had ever seen of a bald eagle in the wild.
Sweet link to The Green
http://www.sltrib.com/features/ci_14702555
This link really fires me up to get out to the Green, before the summer crowds hit. I agree 100% that the toughest thing about the Green is to balance out focusing on your fly with focusing on the breath-taking scenery in all directions as you float down the canyon toward Little Hole. Kevin, let's hit the Green on 3/30-3/31. What do you say?
This link really fires me up to get out to the Green, before the summer crowds hit. I agree 100% that the toughest thing about the Green is to balance out focusing on your fly with focusing on the breath-taking scenery in all directions as you float down the canyon toward Little Hole. Kevin, let's hit the Green on 3/30-3/31. What do you say?
A maiden entry
What I thought would be a harmelss birthday get-together for young Brian Jimmy J Watkee turned out to be hard-core hotboxing on the virtues of social media for Freestone Guides. Granted, I am not the most savvy blogger in the world, so it was probably a well-deserved hotboxing on why Freestone Guides really needs a blog. So this is the maiden blog entry. It is an ideal outlet for my passion for writing and my passion for all things wilderness: fly-fishing, exploring, running, mountaineering, exploring new terrain. The attached picture leads one to the title, which was insisted on by Jimmy J, blogger extradorinaire in the Intermountain West. It might change, but at least justifies a picture of a nice bent rod on the Lower Provo back in November 2009 with Brent, a good fishing buddy of mine.
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