Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Romping through the Marshes


With the forecast calling for several days of cold nasty weather, I decided I had best find my way outdoors. It's been a long, long time since I last caught a bass, so my first order of business would be to check on a little smallmouth spot I know. Thankfully I brought catfish gear and bait just in case. The river was a raging torrent of swirling brown foam. Well, that was a waste of a half hour I could have spent chasing kitties, but at least I tried. I drove back into the valley making it down to the highway bridge with a few hours to go before work. I must say that I'm very grateful for my new rubber boots. All the rain and snow from last week had left the place a mess. I tromped over to the spot where I'd left off on last week and hucked out a nightcrawler. It didn't take long before old Mr. Muddy Buddy came by for a visit. I caught a couple of the little guys before they stole my worm. I had gotten the skunk out of the way, so I felt it was time to get serious now. I slid a wad of carp meat onto the line and lobbed it back into the water. After a short time something was tapping at my line, and I brought in a larger bullhead.

I tossed him back and soon felt another fish tugging on my line. It felt quite a bit bigger. I worked away at it for a minute before realizing it was a bullhead, about the same size as the last one, that was tangled up in someone's line. I felt pretty bad for the little guy, but eventually the line pulled out of it's mouth. Hopefully he was able to get out of the line and escape to freedom. About this time the people across from me were getting on my nerves. Between their obnoxious ringtone and constant casting up near me, I had had enough. I moved down further and set up shop. I hurled the carp chunk as far as I could and then began working various lures with my other rods. Not much was going on until I noticed my cat rod was jumping about wildly. This was new, no tentative tapping here. I immediately knew this wasn't a little bullhead. Eventually I hauled in this lovely specimen.

This would have been a perfect size to eat, but it was his lucky day as I had to go to work soon after. I got to thinking that I had caught this fish out by the main channel current seam and that I should probably focus on that area. I moved down to the next opening in the reeds as it gave me better access to the channel. I re-rigged with a much heavier sinker, sprayed some reel butter on my reel, and let it fly. That stuff really does the trick, I probably cast out half a spool's worth of line. I worked some shallow brush with my ultralight rig, hoping for crappie but finding none, when I saw my other rod going nuts. This fish felt even better than the last one. After a few minutes I beached another nice channel cat.

He was a bit confused when I released him, he kept trying to come back ashore. How precious, I guess he missed me. Eventually he found his way back to the murk as I put on a fresh piece of bait. Things were kind of slow for a bit, but at least I was getting some much needed casting practice after the long winter. Eventually the rod came to life again and another battle ensued. I was soon holding a rather pregnant kitty.

I quickly set her free to go make kittens. Quite some time passed and nothing happened. I decided to move back to the spot where I had caught the first channel catfish. It didn't take long before my rod tip was twitching. It looked more like a bullhead bite, but when I brought the line tight it was quite apparent that this wasn't the case. There was some serious weight to this fish. I loosened the drag a smidgen and she began peeling line off the reel. I gained the line back and the great beast stripped it back off. After about five minutes I beached the behemoth. I leaned down and lipped it like I had the other fish. That was a mistake. She immediately bit down hard on my thumb twice, blood quickly welling to the surface. Those cats have some serious jaw strength. I snapped some pics before popping the hook out and then let her go.

Some guys that had been fishing a few hundred yards north of me saw me holding the fish as they walked by and asked what I was using. They thanked me and then moved down to the first spot where I had caught the bullhead. They were kind enough to ask if that was okay, even though it was at least a hundred feet away from me. I wish everybody was that courteous. For the next while I got several hard hits on my bait, but no solid hookups. Since nothing was hitting my lures I thought it might be a good idea to put a circle hook and crawler on my walleye rod and see what might happen. I fished it much closer to shore than the other line, just to see what was there. Within a few minutes something took off with the worm and I enjoyed a nice little fight before bringing in this nice big pile of bait.

Catching fish on IM8 graphite is fun, you can feel every little swish of the fish's tail. Too bad the only thing I've caught on my nice new walleye rod is a couple of carp. Oh well, soon enough that should change. I set to work on butchering the mongrel, and about half way through some movement caught my eye. Fish on! I brought in another nice channel cat of about 18". I was almost out of time. I finished up my work and buried him at sea. On the way back to the car I passed the kind fishermen and they asked me for some advice as they still hadn't caught anything. I was flattered, this was the first time I felt I'd done any good on catfish and here I was spreading my new found knowledge already. They thanked me and then I rushed off to the car, that wasn't in my schedule. I think Ryan and I are going to come back here as soon as it warms up again. He really wants to catch a nice catfish, and I still need a ten pounder. At least today I was halfway there.

Final Tally: 8 Bullhead, 5 Channel Cats, 1 Carp

Year Tally: 180 Fish

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Another Jaunt at the Scum Pond


After working in the yard for a bit I thought I would go back to Cutler and try that current seam I'd found last time I was down there. I didn't have any worms, but I scrounged up an old package of prepared catfish bait. This nasty, sticky mess got absolutely no attention from the fish but did a good job of getting packed into my cuticles. Pretty soon some annoying shirtless rednecks arrived on the other side of the bridge and proceeded to cast up into my space. I decided to see what the marsh looked like further north. I lobbed my bait out along the current seam and decided to cast jigs with my other rod while I waited. About ten minutes later I thought I had a snag, but then it started moving. No, there will not be some epic story of a ten pound walleye, or a huge largemouth finally succumbing to my amazing skills. I'd snagged a carp just under the dorsal fin. At least I finally caught something on my new rod. I brought the swimming turd ashore and did what I had to do to old Mr. Bungle. At least I had good bait now. I put a piece of carp on my circle hook and lobbed it back out. Pretty much as soon as I put my rod down I had a fish on. This filthy little mongrel soon came out of the water to say hi.

Certainly a greedy little bugger. Long story short, the fish loved the fresh carp meat. Just as soon as the bait would settle on the bottom I would have a fish tap, tap, tapping away. Unfortunately most of them must have been really, really small as I couldn't hook them with the size 2 circle hook. I caught another bullhead about like the first, and I did lose something a little bigger after a short fight. Just as soon as it began it was time for work. At least I had a baggy full of bait to put in the freezer after this trip and an interesting new place to fish. That night after work I swung by the inherently evil megastore and bought some knee high rubber galoshes. Just as soon as these thunderstorms pass I'm heading back there with a sack of carp to do some more exploring. I'm determined that this is the year I catch my ten pounder.

Final Tally: 1 Carp, 2 Bullhead Catfish

Year Tally: 166 Fish

Raging Torrents of Ovaltine


I had thought about going back up to Idaho for some more still water fishing, but alas time wasn't on my side. I decided I'd go see how the Blacksmith Fork was looking. Runoff has begun. Nowhere near as bad as the title suggests, but it's definitely murkier than it was the last time I fished it. I was actually pretty happy about it, a little color can make the fish less spooky. It was a roasty toasty day and I didn't even think about wearing a jacket. I suited up beside the remnants of a teenage love fest (blanket, pillows and undershirt left to rot in the bushes. People are filthy.) As I approached the water my expectations were raised even higher when I encountered clouds of caddisflies. Unfortunately the caddis emerger situation in my fly box wasn't too good. I scrounged up a rather large October caddis emerger from last fall and gave it a try anyway. I had a fish swipe at my Turk's in the first run, but that was it. I worked up through some likely water and didn't even see fish eating the naturals. Definitely disconcerting. I approached one of my favorite runs and spotted a couple of fish holding by some brush at the tail of the pool. They didn't so much as glance at my offering. I soldiered on and finally a nice cutthroat nailed my Turk's.

I pulled a typical brown out on the emerger a bit further up before turning my attention to a nice seam across from me. I fished it quite a while with nothing before getting just the right drift and I missed a fish. I tried the same cast again and scored a whitefish. After getting back into position I noticed a smallish brown rising in the run and took him on the first cast. I fished that stretch of water a little longer and moved on. Nothing happened until I got to another larger run. I ended up having to switch to an indicator setup with two nymphs before getting a good hit, though the trout quickly flipped free. I worked a bit longer, getting just the right drift to get my flies all the way to the bottom, at which point this homely customer came calling.

He munched my new creation, "The Timmy." I fished it a while longer and was about to give up, when another whitefish ate Timmy. I switched back to a dry/dropper rig and kept working upstream, scoring a small brown here or there, but nothing too exciting. I received a number of refusals on my dry in a set of riffles, but no takers. I've never seen the fish in this stream be so particular. Lame. In one deep run I could see a trout actively feeding on emergers up in some brush. This was going to be tough. He wouldn't turn around for my fly if I dropped it below him, but he was surrounded by branches. I kept at it and was eventually able to tuck my fly in to his right. He immediately shot over and nabbed my emerger.

I also managed a couple more whitefish out of this hole before moving on. I fished on through some great looking stretches, but nothing really happened. I switched my dropper to a Carrot's Ear even though I'd only seen a few mayflies hatching today. Soon I came to a good bend pool with some nice undercuts. I let my flies drift up against one of these undercuts and a brown yanked my fly under the bank. After a short but spirited little skirmish I held this little devil in my hand.

I was nearly out of time, but I managed a couple more browns of similar size in that run and the next. Overall a pretty fun couple of hours, but I had expected more under the circumstances. Perhaps if I had come prepared with smaller caddis emergers things would have been different.

Final Tally: 15 Browns, Whitefish and Cutthroat

Year Tally: 163 Fish

Sunday, April 18, 2010

In the Land of the Deafening Frogs and Buttrock


I found myself alone on a Sunday afternoon, so I decided that today was the day to head to Idaho for some stillwater fishing. I drove over the secret passage and got my self some Chubway and gas. I drove north up I-15, enjoying the new Horse Feathers album as I went. The album ended right as I pulled into my destination. I noticed a fisherman in a pontoon hunkered down in the shallows near a small inlet. As I ate my sandwich and got geared up, he stayed in that area. Though I didn't see him catch a fish, I figured he must be getting into them over there. I eased into the water and was delighted to find water in the low 50s. All this warm weather has really gotten things going. I fished a couple of leeches on a sinking line with nothing. I decided I'd try to some deep midge fishing, but still nothing. I noticed the pontoon guy was heading up the bank I was fishing, so I thought I'd pass him by and try his spot if he was leaving. As we passed we got to talking, and it turns out my suspicions were correct, he'd been knocking them dead over there on an olive leech. He showed me a four pounder he'd caught, I thanked him and hurried over to the honey hole. I missed a fish before even getting there, and then I had one on, but he threw the hook. The next fish I hesitated on and got a solid hookup. I heart Kamloops. They fight so hard for their size. I brought him in and was dismayed to find that he'd completley engulfed the size 8 Crystal Bugger and was bleeding badly. I decided I'd be eating trout for dinner tonight, but I didn't have a stringer as I wasn't planning on it. I eventually fashioned a stringer from my landing net's cord.

R.I.P Little Buddy

I caught a couple more and missed several more, and then things dropped off for a while. I bobbed around enjoying the cacophony of amorous frogs and foul minded fowl, though not the sound of redneck's buttrock blaring from their trucks. I guess that's what happens when you fish near Malad. This place is weird, people drive down, look at the water, and then turn around and leave. I don't really get it, but there's always traffic coming and going. I watched a bald eagle hop around on the far shore, and felt kind of embarrassed for the osprey that missed a fish and then couldn't get back out of the water again. Eventually he made it, but it took several tries. The sound of a loon flitted across the water, and I realized that most of the annoying people had gone home. About this time some clouds came in and fish began to eat midges off the surface. I started getting tons of hits, and I actually managed to catch some too.

One of them seriously jumped seven times in a row. I love these fish! I tried fishing an indicator with a midge pupa and a beadhead olive Crystal Bugger below it since the fish were eating midges. I missed three before finally landing one. He took the bugger. I switched back to fishing my sinking line. The sun came out and things slowed down again. I decided I needed to get home and clean my fish. Overall it was a fun day. If I would have landed everything that hit it would have been my best stillwater trout trip ever. I probably missed 40 fish and landed 12. Two took a size 12 black peacock Crystal Bugger, and the others took the size 8 olive Crystal Bugger. I didn't get any monsters, they were all pretty much the same size, 14-16" and healthy. I went home and enjoyed some grilled trout and green beans. Delicious. The stories I've heard of how tasty the trout are from this reservoir are true, it was one of the best trout I've eaten. It's flesh was bright orange like a salmon, and it tasted a lot like one too. Yum.

Final Tally: 12 Rainbow Trout

Year Tally: 148 Fish

Down at the Scum Pond


After reading a post on the internet about some rather large kitties being caught down at the local scum pond, I started thinking about trying something different. I had been planning on going after some ice-off trout in Idaho, but I had yard work to do, and I just wasn't going to have time. While raking up some debris, I discovered some worms, and my decision was made for me. I collected some bait and packed up my gear. I first tried the boat launch nearest to the house, but I wasn't too impressed. Something stole my bait after 30 minutes, but that wasn't enough to keep my interest. I drove down to a highway bridge that usually holds some fish, and made my way down to the water. Suddenly, everywhere I looked there were snakes sliding down the hill as I approached. One brave little trooper took a stand and refused to slither away.

I passed through the gauntlet of garter snakes, and chucked my worm out. Before I even got a chance to cast out my jig on the other rod, I had a bite. I quickly reeled in this little feller.

I caught a couple more of them, and then I realized that my larger nightcrawlers were all gone. I decided to try some preserved shad that I had. They seem like they should work, but I still haven't caught anything on them, and today was no different. About the time I lobbed the stinky fish out into the drink, a crazy couple in an old 1960's speed boat came under the bridge and proceeded to zoom around in circles for about 15 minutes. Well, nothing happened on the fish front for 15 minutes. They eventually left, and I ditched the dead minnow. I scrounged through my worm container and found a decent sized worm. Almost immediately I had a strike, and this one actually put up a little tussle. Certainly not a ten pounder like the ones I'd been hearing about, but marginally better.

I couldn't find any large worms, so I gobbed on a bunch of little ones. I quickly felt another tap tap on my rod, and to my surprise it was a channel cat, but far from ten pounds.

Things dropped off after that. The vintage boaters came back, so I switched to the other side of the bridge. It looked interesting, but in the ten minutes I fished it, I broke off a jig and my catfish rig. I'll have to come back to that spot when I have more time, and I'll have to find some carp meat and big crawlers.

Final Tally: 6 Bullhead, 1 Channel Catfish

Year Tally: 136 Fish

Old Flame


With all the attention that I've been giving The Blacksmith, I decided it was about time I visited my old love, The Logan. I had to stop for a guard duck at the mouth of the canyon, but eventually he let me pass. I drove past The Right Hand Fork a ways, finally settling on some rather attractive pocket water. I hiked down from my car for a decent while, trying to find an easy access point. I bushwhacked my way down to the river and soon hooked a nice little brown on my new attractor from a shallow riffle.

I pulled another brown of pretty much the same size out of that same riffle on my new dropper, "The Timmy." Another clone came to the net on the attractor just upstream of the others. At this point I suddenly realized that wearing my jacket was a stifling, sweaty, awful affair, and that I needed to ditch it ASAP. So I walked all the way back to my car, and then all the way back down to where I'd left off. I fished past a few minor spots with nothing, and then scored this pretty cutthroat on the dry from a nice flat run.

I worked my way upstream, eventually coming to some really deep long runs I'd been salivating over on the walk down. I got a few refusals from cutts on the dry, but no solid hookups. I could see some ridiculously huge whitefish on the bottom and decided to work on them for a bit. I missed one, but for the most part, they didn't want anything to do with me. That was kind of a disappointment, but I soldiered on. I came upon a nice little pocket up against a hollowed out part of a boulder and scored this sexy thing on a green and black Copper P Tail.

After that it all kind of blurred together. BWOS were coming off, and I even saw a few caddis. I lost my attractor to a tree and switched over to a big orange Turk's. I scored this stout little fellow on it somewhere in there.

At the tail of a fast little pocket, I scored this healthy brown on the Turk's. It went airborne several times (as most of the browns did that day) and took me downstream about fifty feet. I clambered over several boulders, amazingly not falling to my death, or at least to my embarrassment, before finally netting him.

I saw a lot of nice sized fish rising around this time, and I really should have tried to match the hatch a bit more closely, but I was lazy and running out of time. I still scored a few more fish, but had a ton of refusals. With about ten minutes left, I came upon a long deep run that was full of dozens of nice cutthroat greedily rising to the hatch. I had a lot of looks, and a few misses, but I only ended up landing this guy,

and a smaller brown. About this time, four carloads of college students came galumphing by, putting the fish down. It had to head to work anyway, so I hurried off.

Final Tally: 14 Browns and Cutthroat

Year Tally: 129 Fish

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Ice Off at the Local Pond


After all the wind and then warm sunny weather that we'd had, I thought I'd head down to the local pond to see if the ice was off yet. It was completely gone, but apparently I wasn't the only one to discover this. Trying to escape the crowds, I took a little dirt road down to some weedy shallows at the far end of the reservoir. I quickly noticed NO TRESPASSING signs posted at several spots along the road. I was a little nervous, this is the only place to take my float tube on this lake without the fear of annihilation by brainless boaters and wooers. I hiked down the road past the signs and took a look around. There was an awful lot of crap strewn about as well as a smattering of fire rings. I wouldn't want a bunch of a-holes trashing my land either. I didn't see any signs of life, but I decided to chuck a big clown colored jerkbait and a chartreuse double willow spinner bait for a bit, despite the dead frigid water. Well, at least it was good casting practice with my new baitcast rig. I only had a couple of small backlashes, and those came when casting into the wind. I just might get the hang of it after all. Well, I knew it was likely a waste of time fishing the lake this early, so I decided to go home and work in the yard. I saw the landowner when I got back to the car, and he didn't say anything. Hopefully I can keep parking and hiking in past his property, or I just might have to give up on musky fishing.

We Have No Cutthroat Today


It felt really good to get out and fish after all that cold weather, so with an even warmer forecast today, I decided I really had to go back to The Blacksmith. I really didn't have a choice in the matter. I drove quite a long way up the canyon, sipping Mt. Dew and munching pretzels as I went. I pulled over at a favorite spot, Damien stating, "The papers say I'm a killer. Papers lie," as I turned off the car. I took off my indicator rig and tied on my big ugly attractor pattern from yesterday, a Carrot's Ear dangling below. Today was a special day, I was able to bring the good camera along. Oh happy day! I'm tired of out of focus washed out blah. After about a three minute pee I found myself in the river, working my way upstream. The first little pocket I cast to brought a respectable trout up to slurp my dry. I hesitated a moment, as I should have, but I missed him completely and he wasn't coming up again. I hit a couple more small pockets before moving up to the tail of a really long run. I could see a decent cutthroat holding against the bank. My fly came drifting toward him, but before he could take it, a small brown darted out from the undercut bank and nailed my nymph. Oh well, he was a pretty little guy, nevertheless.

I kept fishing my way upstream, but nothing was holding in the shallow riffles. Toward the head of the run I found some deeper water. Still nothing was happening, much to my surprise. I looked at my dropper and decided it was a bit short. I tied on a longer line and a little bit heavier fly, a green Copper John. That did the trick as the next cast brought me another small brown. Up ahead was a truly delicious looking run, with fast water down the middle, and deep, slack water on the sides. I decided now was a good time to ditch my jacket in the car as I was beginning to overheat. This was the first time outside in a t-shirt this year, and it felt pretty good. I hurried back to the gorgeous stretch of water, ready to get down to business. First cast I missed a fish. Soon I found another small brown in my hand. I cast up a little further, then something distracted me long enough for a rather large fish to blow up on my dry. I instinctively set the hook as soon as I saw the splash, pulling the fly from the fishes mouth. I kept working the run and soon had a whitefish on the line.

I kept fishing the run, missing two or three fish for every hookup, when I hooked up to this butt ugly bruiser.

I caught a couple more big whiteys, and then things started to slow down. I switched back to a double nymph rig, a small flashback bwo with a midge pupa below. I managed a few more whitefish as well as another small brown or two. I had probably hooked or missed 25, 30 fish out of this run, so I decided that was pretty okay and I really ought to move upstream. I skirted around some fast water and found a deep, strong run with slower water along the bank abutting some large boulders. Oddly I didn't get a single hit, and I didn't the last time I fished this run either. Some spots are like that. Somewhere in there I lost my bottom fly, so I put the trusty Copper John back on. I saw a really nice looking spot along the far bank, but unfortunately it was under an overhanging branch. I made several presentations before finally getting my flies to drift under the branch. That was the ticket. I set the hook on a nice trout that shot around the pool like a crazy wonky cat that has just discovered crinkly plastic drop cloths before it took off downstream. I pursued my quarry and eventually cradled this stout little brown in my net.

I kept hiking upstream through mostly fishless fast water, though I lost a truly gargantuan whitefish to the current along the way. I found a huge bend pool with water that was likely over my head. Below the pool was some seriously powerful current, so I had to come down the bank at the tail of the pool. Unfortunately I spooked two particularly handsome trout that were hiding up against some rocks. I crossed the stream and got into a better position. I cast to the spot where the trout had been and actually got a hit. It was a fish that was maybe a third of the size, and he popped off anyway. I worked the entire run with no more action. I moved upstream to another, shallower bend pool, and still nothing. AT this point it was time to get to work unfortunately. Stupid meeting making me get there 30 minutes early. Oh well, at least that one run was amazing, and the sun felt wonderful on my now toasty brown arms.

Final Tally: 14 Whitefish and Brown Trout

Year Tally: 115 Fish

Saturday, April 10, 2010



After over two weeks of cold, snowy, overcast nastiness, the sun finally peeked it's face out to say "Hi." I'd been getting rather restless, so of course I took the opportunity to head down to my favorite trout stream. As I drove up the canyon, it seriously felt like I'd gone back in time a month. Snow blanketed both sides of the mountain, and once again it was hard to find a spot to pull my car off. I passed some water that I had remembered taking note of last time, so I flipped around and went back for it. The sun felt warm and welcoming as I trudged through the snow, but as I reached the water, it slipped behind the mountain. "Perhaps it's not so warm after all," I thought as my breath unfurled before me in a cloud. Oh well, onward I went. I didn't see any bugs hatching, but I figured the blue wing olives should be getting active, so I tied on a size 18 olive mayfly nymph beneath a small black Turk's. Within a couple of minutes I hooked about a 12" whitefish from a fairly shallow riffle. He flopped free as I tried to grab him, but that was just as well. There was a deep bend pool up ahead that had me a little excited initially, but I soon discovered some rather difficult currents and didn't get a single strike from it. I waded around the bend, and saw a much more enticing bend pool about 100 feet upstream. I worked my fly through the faster riffles at the tail end, but nothing happened. I moved up to the main pool, and I knew it just had to produce. There was a nice chute of fast water coming down the near side, and a wide area of nearly dead water adjacent to it. It looked to be a good two and a half, three feet deep closest to the rapids. Almost immediately I missed a fish on the dropper. On the next cast a little rainbow rocketed up to intercept my dry. I scooped it up in my new rubber mesh landing net (which I'm really digging by the way) and snapped a quick pic before releasing it.

It's a rare treat to catch rainbows on The Blacksmith. They're just not that common. My dry was looking kind of soggy, and I thought I might do well to fish a heavier dropper in this water, so I re-tied. I put on a big ugly size 10 something or other that I'd slapped together with foam, rubber legs, deer hair, and chartreuse craft fur, with a size 16 Flashback Carrot's Ear for my dropper. First cast got me a decent whitefish of maybe 15". The next few casts brought similar results, though sometimes the fish would quickly become unbuttoned. I was admiring the visibility of my new attractor pattern when a lovely cutty devoured it.

I fished the run for a bit longer and then decided to move on. The next little run ran between two clumps of willow trees and looked very fishy indeed. First cast scored me a cute little 10" brown on the dropper. After releasing him, I flicked my fly upstream, just to get it out from below me, and as I lifted up my line for a real cast, found that it had a small trout on the end of it. After releasing it, I moved up to a fast, deep run with slower water on either side of the main channel. I was surprised by the lack of fish in it, and was about to move upstream when a "rock" released itself from the stream bed and had a closer look at my fly. I guess it failed inspection, and the cutthroat slowly sank to the bottom, never to be seen again. I moved up to the head of the run, where the water spread out and slowed, and noticed a decent sized trout gulping something from the surface film. I presented my flies to him, and he immediately approved of my dropper. He shot into the current and headed downstream, but I soon found myself holding a healthy looking brown.

I placed my next cast closer to the fast water, and to my delight, was holding another rainbow shortly after.

I moved ahead through some nice looking runs, but wasn't even seeing any fish. At the very head of a long riffle, right amongst the boulders and the turbulence, I spotted two good sized trout picking nymphs from amongst the rocks. I slowly backed away and dropped my fly down to them, but they would have none of it. Up ahead was some very fast water, so I got out and went around it. I noticed a very deep, slower pocket right in the middle of some serious whitewater. I moved into position, and thought I saw something rather large flash down there. I drifted a few casts through before my indicator fly shot under and I was hooked into something large. It shot down into the rapids, underneath some boulders, and down a small water fall. I scrambled up the bank, my rod held high, over the boulders, through the snow and around some small trees before leading this ugly bugger into some slack water where I could net him.

Why is it that the trout always get off in these situations? Oh well, it was still a fun little tussle. I moved ahead, passing a lot more fast, featureless water, before coming across a very large bend pool. I decided to switch over to an indicator nymphing rig with a size 18 flashback bwo nymph, and a size 18 green Copper John. As I moved up into position, I startled a trout that had been tight to the bank, hiding beneath some brush. It proceeded to shoot up in the run and zip back and forth like a spaz. I tried the far side of the run with not a single strike. As I moved up the run, more trout flew out from the brush, ruining this once tempting water. I was nearly out of time, but I saw a nice run up ahead. I fished it for a while with nothing, but I was pretty sure I saw a whitefish down on the bottom. The nice thing about whitefish is that they usually don't freak out like trout and can often be coaxed into taking your fly if you get it right in front of them. And that's exactly what happened. The hooked fish tore off downstream where I eventually netted him, the flashback bwo in the corner of it's mouth.

I looked at my watch and realized I had to get back to Logan fast. I hurried back to my car and tore off down the canyon, clocking in right at 4 pm on the dot.

Final Tally: 7 Whitefish, 2 Rainbows, 3 browns, and 1 Cutthroat

Year Tally: 101 Fish