Muddler

Kyle came up for the weekend so we met up with Dan to try to get into some fatties. We met up early and headed out to a river that Dan has fished for a long time. I'm always excited to fish new water, especially the type that is supposed to hold fat browns. We got to the first spot and after about 15 minutes Kyle was geared up and ready to fish. Things started off pretty decent, Dan got into some really nice fish, a few of which sadly came unbuttoned before he could land them. It wasn't too long and I was into my first fish on this new river.
Dan and I had a couple of fish under our belts, and Kyle had yet to hook up with anything. After missing a couple (dozen) hooksets, Dan offered to let Kyle hold one of his fish so he didn't go home empty handed. Dan is a nice guy like that.
To help Kyle hook a dang fish, I even counted down for him. He casted upstream and I counted, 5...4...3...2...1... and just after I said one, his indicator tanked. Don't worry, he missed that hookset too. Can't do any more than that for ya buddy. Dan grew up right near this river, so he knows all the money holes. He took us to a private stretch of water and we started fishing. Kyle was re-tying up his rig, which he did most of the day, so I decided to throw my bugs in just ahead of him. It wasn't long and I had this fat boy on, I was really excited, my biggest brown and biggest fish out of a river to date.


We continued to fish, and after about 6 hours Kyle finally hooked up with something other than moss. It was actually a really nice fish, and we were happy that he got that skunk off, it was stinkin' real bad. We continued to fish and got into some really nice ones. We took a dinner break and then headed to a more popular spot of the river. We only fished it for a short time, but Kyle took his necassary swim when he stepped into a hole that took him to his neck until he swam out. Hilarious.

Having just moved back up to Provo, I was excited to get out and do some fishing with my old buddy Nate. Our wives got together to go on a hike and watch a bike race with the little ones, so we headed up to a nearby small stream. Nate has been fishing this skinny water pretty frequently, and it was my first time. We fished big massive meaty hoppers and had some good success. We fished on through some really good holes and made it just further than Nate had ever gone when we got the phones calls letting us know that our wives were headed home. "Ok we can only see one more stretch of water, just one more bend." We turned the corner and wow the water looked money. Fished it out and said, "We really just need to see what else is ahead, just to see." Even better water. This went on for longer than any responsible non-fisher would approve of, but Nate and I have an addiction. Literally.

The water just kept on getting better and better and the fish along with it. The biggest fish Nate (his wife, actually) had caught on this stream was 16". Nate tossed his hopper and GULP, a big fish was on. We pulled this beautiful 17" golden bellied brown out of the net, much to our delight.
Nate called his wife to let her know we would seriously honestly just be a few more minutes, serious this time, and I landed a few more fish. I had switched to a royal wulff about 1 hour 1/2 earlier... it was the first dry I saw when I opened my pack and as I tied it on I said, "I'm just throwing this on real quick because we have to go very soon." I shoulda stuck with the hopper because as soon as Nate hung up the phone he landed this beeaaautttiful 17" cutt. I'd like to think that I missed these fatties because of my small, less hearty of a meal fly. Its the only excuse I got. Even if Nate stole all the fatties, it was an awesome awesome day of fishing.

All photos taken by Natedogg himself (Flikr)

Farewell Session

Kyle and I headed back to the private stretch of water I talked about in my last post. We had high hopes for some hogs on hoppers because of our last visit there just a few days ago. We arrived a bit earlier than last time and started off with some nymph rigs. It was pretty slow going, a couple of whitefish and a couple small browns. Our spirits began to sag as the day progressed and we were seeing no action on top. We had a run in with the same guy that talked to us twice about being on his property. He walked up and asked, "So is this becoming a weekly thing or what?" I replied, "No, actually I'm moving up north to Provo tomorrow (which I am) so this is me saying goodbye." We chatted politics, mutual acquaintances, etc. He is actually a really cool, nice guy. We offered to get him into some fish, and also offered to help around the ranch if he needed it. Both offers were declined and we left feeling confident that we would not be bothered, or be a bother, for the rest of the day. WRONG. Not too far upstream, a diesel truck stops on the dirt road running through the property. An elderly man, along with a younger what seemed to be ranch-hand, hopped out and walked towards us. Without a word spoken, they start throwing rocks and branches into the stream just ahead of us. I said, "Thanks." The elderly man replied, "No, thank you, get the hell out of here!" Kyle piped back, "We have every right to be here, Matt get out your camera and film these guys." Not another rock was thrown and they left without another word. I thought it was pretty childish... not a word, just throwing sticks and stones into the river. Whatever we had fish to catch. About 45 minutes and a PB&J later, the sign letting us know it was hopper time went off... a fish tried to slam my indicator. The rest is history, great fishing on hoppers all day long. Kyle managed to stay dry, and we burned about 6000 calories and our calves probably grew a solid 3/4 of an inch from the walk. Oh yeah, and I caught bow out of the stream. We talked to a guy who has fished this water a ton for 7 years and I think he said he has caught 4 bows so it was a nice unexpected treat.

Gettin' Wet

Kyle, Mike and I headed up to fish a private section of a river in hopes of catching some hogs. After about 10 minutes the guy who takes care of the land for his father rolled up. He told us we were on private property, we knew that. He told us to leave. Thanks to Conaster we were legally allowed to stay in the river to enjoy of its goodness and the big fish it holds. He was a nice enough guy and I understand the frustration of having someone in your backyard, but its hard to say you own a stream or the water or the mountains it comes from. Who knows if things will stay this way in the future, but for the time being we were going to be respectful and enjoy the river, and he accepted our legal right to do so. After a couple "foul hooked whitefish", I was finally able to keep a fish on long enough to snap a photo, beauty of a 16+ brown. We waded through some deep silty river and nymphed for a little while, ducking under the occasional barbed-wire fence.

I can't remember who, but someone casted up to a nice fishy looking spot and bam! a nice sized fish tried to eat the indicator. Cha-Ching. Mike and Kyle quickly changed to hopper patterns while I believed it was a fluke and kept on my nymph rig. I was wrong. We continued up the river and started catching big fish on hoppers. When I started flyfishing a few months ago, my buddy Nate told me of the insane goodness of hopper season. I was starting to doubt it was true, never really getting any big fish on hoppers. Wrong again, hopper fishing exists and its very very fun. The landowner met up with us later and appeared very angry, thinking it was impossible for us to wade up the river so far, but he calmed down after we offered to take him to any place on the river and wade through it in front of him. We kept on fishing and kept on having a grand ole time with hoppers and brownies. Hoppers, brownies, and whitefish in Kyle's case.

Mike had to get to work, so we waded back down to our cars. We were all ready to fall down from exhaustion, and Kyle actually took a few dips in the water to 'cool off' or because of his 'slippery boots.' Either way I saved him from certain death in some quicksand earlier in the day so I was allowed to get a kick out of him falling into the drink. Mike went to work and Kyle and I headed to a small stream on a scouting adventure. We caught a couple absolutely gorgeous small fish. After we saw three snakes, however, we were ready for home.

Spook Creek

Headed to one of my favorites yesterday with Steve and Tyler. Each time I go the fishing gets harder and harder. The water was very low, very slow, and very clear. The fish that were always skiddish became ridiculously spooky. I would frequently see a nice big fish-wake from a spooked fish when I was a good 100 feet downstream from it, not making an noise. It was tough fishing, and I picked up three fish really quick in the lower section which has a few fast spots, but after that it was sloooooow. I missed two after the first ones I landed, but that was it. Steve and Tyler didn't have any luck either.
A little friend on our way back downstream.
After getting our butts kicked, we decided to head downstream from where we began. We have never fished below the bridge where this stretch begins, but decided to give it a try. It's much faster, and a lot easier to fish this time of year. Within a few casts of fishing it I pulled out this little guy.

A few fish later we headed out before we became a mountain lion's dinner. This place drives me nuts. Every time I go I see some really good sized fish. I've decided I will probably not fish this stretch until the browns are spawning, but I have very high hopes for when they do.

Sucker.

Take two this summer for the family trip out to lake powell. Before leaving I decided that I was going to take half a day or so and head out to Lees Ferry for the first time. I woke up nice and early and hopped on the wave runner for a ride into the marina. I had a decent distance to travel, and it was extremely stormy. I arrived at the dock soaked to the bone with no extra clothes. I got to the car, got down to my skibbies, and hung my clothes out the car windows to dry on the way over. Worked like a charm. I pulled up to the Ferry, excited as ever. I walked into the walk-in section, and began fishing. I only saw one other fisherman the whole time I was there, a spin fisherman that got skunked. I had heard that long drifts with absolutely no drag were key. I tried about every midge pattern I had, double rig, single rig, shallow, deep, uber deep. Put on some different buggers, drifted shallow, drifted deep, stripped em a little. No luck with anything. Scuds, PTs, every nymph I had, nothing. I finally ended up landing a 12" bow on an 18 black zebra midge, which was good but frustrating at the same time after 4 hours of fishing. I don't know if it was the big water, but I think it was a problem with my confidence that kept the fish away. The biggest river I've ever fished would fit width wise into the Colorado about 15 times. I was fishing near the Paria riffle when I hooked into what seemed like a FATTY. He actually was running a lot, going into the fast water, darting deep, going all over the place. I got the fish in close and then saw the ugly beast. A big fat brown sucker fish of sorts. Man what a bummer. After 5 1/2 hours and one trout, I hung my head and headed back from some water weinee action on the lake. One day I will kill that place. I'm now very interested in taking a boat up the canyon and fishing it.
The next day on the lake my nephews were in the fish-catching mood. I had yet to catch a carp on the fly rod, seems the dang things will only eat food and trash. I came up with a very clever way of landing one, which may or may not have been covering a fly with some delicious white bread. It wasn't that cheap, but in my opinion it was close... either way I had fun landing this ugly fatty. No, I'm not converted to the hardcore carp on the fly scene yet.

Tonaquint River

Headed up to a nearby stream hoping to get into some nice fish. I have seen some hogs in the lower stretch of the river, and I wanted to see if I could finally trick one. This section is almost entirely on private land, and runs behind a lot of cabin/houses that are usually empty. Much to my dismay, most of the cabins had the summer residents in them. I didn't feel like getting into any fights with angry landowners, I didn't feel like breaking the law by trespassing, and I didn't feel like swimming (some parts are too deep to really wade...). After landing a few smallies and receiving more than one stank eye, I headed back to my car and drove to the upper section. I had tied up some elk hair caddis (my fourth fly tied, they aren't too great), but some same caddis in the air so I put on a brown one. I fished a decent stretch of water and caught a ton of small fish. I have fished this river a bunch and have only caught browns so I was happy to land this guy.

I was coming up to a nice riffle and saw a fish struggling in the rocks at the tail of it. I didn't see the fish swim out of the rocks it was in, so I put down my rod and stuck my hands in. After a few bobbles I nabbed this little guy, bare-hand style.

I fished up to the reservoir above the stream and decided to fish it, since I never had before. It was pretty crowded. It made me happy to have discovered fly fishing a few months ago. Every 20 seconds or so I would hear a "ZIIIIING.... PLUNKKK" as a bobber would land. Every so ofter I would overhear the wise father saying to his young children, "Patience kids, fishing is a patience sport. Just watch that bobber and if it sinks you yank the pole." Ziiiiiing, Plunk. Ziiiiiing, Plunk.