Fishing The Basin. I snapped over 150 pictures. I had my Olympus E-510 with me (first time I took it fishing). I hope you enjoy the pictures as much as I enjoyed taking them (and fishing). Plenty of fish were caught. All cutts. Nothing under 8" and nothing over 13".
Click below to check out the gallery.
We head a little lower from our morning beat. The river looks about the same, but there are a few more riffles than the upper stretch. The first riffle doesn’t produce. The clouds have toyed with us all morning and a thick band of gray scuds over the peaks to the west. The low rumble from the distance rolls closer. A few sparks jump from the peaks. I pull on my light rain jacket I’ve tied around my waist.
We move upriver to a small island that splits the river in two channels. I take the far channel. The rain pelts the water, almost looking like hail as the drops kick up the river in white splashes. I throw a few casts upriver. There is some disturbance near my fly on the far side of the seam. The rain picks up briefly, then suddenly slows. I cast my dark green hopper and have a fantastic strike. I bring a beautiful 17" Yellowstone cutthroat to hand.
I get another nice strike on the near side of the seam, but the fish throws the fly a couple of seconds after the take. Maybe the omen was right, just a bit delayed in reaching fruition.
“A good omen,” John (our personal Calchas) says as the three of us watch the Bald Eagle skying the thermals. The low mountain range to the west flashes orange and red in the early light.
I grope toward the bed in the half dark as my eyes adjust to the diffuse light of the rising Harvest Moon glancing through the five bedroom windows. I strip off my clothes and pause for a moment to shiver in the bracing breeze streaming through the windows knowing that warmth is a step away. I breathe deeply through my nose, feeling the coolness. A hint of horses from the upper pasture tints the air.
I reach toward the dark spot in the center of my half of the bed to shove the cat over but he only rolls onto his back and stretches out for a belly rub. I lift the edge of the thin blanket and help him continue his roll off my sleeping spot.
I slide into bed and pull the light summer blanket up. The warmth in the middle of my back from where the cat was and the cold sheets on my feet make me shiver again. I think of the thick comforter, the winter one on the shelf of the closet—it’s about time to put it on the bed. The weight pressing down is the thought—not the warmth, the weight.
It’s mid-September. The air-conditioner is off. The windows stay open 24 hours a day. The bigtooth maples and aspen on the mountains paint a backdrop of orange and yellows for the red barn across the road.
Yesterday was the opening day of the blue grouse hunt. There were eleven of us gas-filled happy grouse seekers: two non-hunting children (Wyatt and Cole), three hunting children (my son Ben, Trevor and Brooks) and six adults who often act as children (John, Richard, Scott, Danny, Justin and Brady). This is an annual trek that my brother-in-law, Danny, has organized for the past six or so years. We sometimes like to fish our way back down Logan River on the way home, but Danny one who shall remain blamed nameless, said that he had to be somewhere by 2:00. So we canceled the fishing for this trip.
Do you like reading well-written fishing stories? Enjoy "Gray’s Sporting Journal" but wish it came out more frequently so you could read some decent outdoorsy type poetry? Are you a closet writer? Have some great photos you’d like to share with a larger viewership?
Then StoryArc is the place for you. David Motes, a published writer and professional guide (although I don’t know if he still guides) has started the "Literary Outdoor Blog," StoryArc. If you like reading outdoor literature, or you would like to get your own work published, check out StoryArc. In addition to reading the fine pieces offered there, make sure you also read his "A Rationale" in the bottom right corner of the blog.
Here is the blurb from StoryArc’s homepage:
StoryArc is a cooperative nonprofit publication of fiction writers, poets, photographers, and artists with a focus on the outdoors, conservation, nature, and wildlife. Its mission is to present quality work to a discerning readership.
Full disclaimer: he does have one of my poems on there, "Last Hole."
I finally got some hopper fishing in. Heck, I finally got some fishing in—I’ve been extremely busy with school work. At the beginning of the school year I spending time assessing where my 70+ students are at in reading and writing. This generates a ton of paperwork. So, I’ve been bringing a lot home instead of fishing.
So yesterday it was some hopper action on the Blacksmith Fork River. I fished my favorite lower section that has been posted as "No Trespassing" for the last two years. But with the new access laws, I entered at a public access and fished right on through. The river topography has really changed in those two years, with some old holes and riffles gone and new ones formed. Seems like fewer cutthroat too. In fact, one year I caught the same 18" cutthroat three times in three weeks out of one of the now missing holes.
Six browns, one cutt. All of them in the 11"-14" range caught with a hopper.
first brown of the day
last brown of the day
cutthroat
cutt close-up
the cutthroat was working over the submerged green stick
It happens all the time, at least to me. I get a great idea for a fly, tie a few up and hit the river. The first opportunity I get to try the fly—as in, the second I hit the water, regardless of what is/isn’t coming off or what the fish are/aren’t rising to—I fling it on the water for a test run. Trouble is, sometimes occasionally usually, the experiment is a complete bust.
How often do you check your fly box(es)? Do you ever see little gobs of fur huddling in the dark recesses of that box? Did that killer palmered-hackled-bead-headed-foam-bodied-articulated emerger become so rusted gnarled that even the fish won’t touch it any more? Has that chartreuse and hot pink streamer expended its usefulness already?
Have you ever wondered what the half-life is of the flies in your box? Of course, the beauty is, half-lifing your flies never actually gets you to zero—you can justify keeping your flies forever because there will always be "usefulness" left in them.
My return to the Portneuf River (my first encounter is chronicled here) made a big splash on the locals. Actually, I think my splash missed Kevin, but it made a pretty big impact on him—he laughed his butt off for at least five minutes!
Coach Kevin C (of Coach’s Caribou County Fly Fishing Journal [new window]) was kind enough to meet with me on the Portneuf for a day of fishing there and on a little cutthroat creek, Toponce Creek. He told me it takes him 1 1/2 hours to drive from his house to Logan, and then another 7 minutes to the Portneuf. I was planning on riding the motorcycle, but looking at the forecast and the clouds convinced me I should drive the truck instead. I ran into Logan to pick up a 6 pack of DP, then took off. It was 6:30 when I left the store. I was supposed to meet Kevin at 7:30. You do the math.
I arrived at the Portneuf parking lot at 7:55. Kevin was patiently (you looked patient Kevin, way to pull it off) rigging up his homemade leader-out-of-tippet job. We introduced ourselves (I must say, fishing with someone you’ve never met before is always a crapshoot—you never know what to expect in the other angler. I found Kevin to be a great fishing companion and person—thanks Kevin!), then hit the river.
They aren’t "Hogs"—they are referred to as "metric cruisers" [new window]. They are sometimes referred to as "Hardly Davidsons" or "Wannabees" by the Harley owners. Whatever you want to call them, we call them fun! The bike riding was wild, but we were tame. And everyone was relieved we didn’t have to stop every 70 miles for someone to check on their leaky bike—they all ran like a charm (unlike what we could say about so many of our black-clad brethren).
Scott’s 2004 1100 V-Star Classic
We have returned from our little fishing foray (and I survived the motorcycle expedition - more on that in the next post).
If you read the route and map from the last post, you would know that we planned on fishing in Idaho on the upper Blackfoot River and some areas around it on day one, then McCoy Creek and some areas around it on day two. Not so fast—things are not what you will expect them to be when fishing with Talking Bull. Day two actually found us in Wyoming, not Idaho.
Follow Hikes Like Turtle and Talking Bull on their latest adventure.
This map gives The Stalkers’ route from 8:00pm Tuesday, July 29 6:00AM Wednesday, July 30 (Talking Bull’s flight from Ohio was late, then he ran into traffic on the freeway) through ?:??PM Thursday, July 31. Blue roads and blue markers are for navigating purposes. Red roads and red markers are areas to fish. Select the "Terrain" button and zoom in to each marker so you can actually see the creek names.
Anticipated rivers and creeks to fish: upper Blackfoot River, Slug Creek, Diamond Creek, Lanes Creek, McCoy Creek, Iowa Creek, Elk Creek and Bear Creek. If we have time (ha-ha) will try some others.
Hopefully complete details (including pictures) will be available Sunday or Monday. Hikes Like Turtle (AKA Rides Like Grandma) will be on a mortorcycle trip to Jackson Hole Friday-Saturday, hence the delayed report.
St. Charles Creek is located located on the Northwest "corner" of Bear Lake in southern Idaho. There are about seven miles of fishable creek along the main asphalt road until you get to the three main tributaries: North fork (the main stem, which I believe has a dirt road along it), Middle Fork and South Fork. The main canyon drive is a beautiful little thing that leads to Minnetonka Cave, where guided tours are given. The creek is about six to ten feet wide in most places with pockets and pounge pools the predominate fishing features.
I have just finished my review of Rivers of Memory by Harry Middleton (one of my favorite fly fishing authors). The review is found at Goodreads.com. I would like to invite anyone interested in reading to set up an account there and join in the discussions. I’m not a member of any "social networking" site except for Goodreads. I just joined recently. It would be nice to start a group dedicated to fly fishing books. So, if you are interested in joining, come on over.
If you are interested in finding books to read, but not joining, come on over to Goodreads.com. If you are interested in keeping updated with my reviews, read them at Goodreads, or go to the top right corner of my blog (or in the "Categories" to the right) and click on Fly Fishing Literature and find the review linked there.
The Utah Supreme Court has handed down their ruling on public easement on state waters. The ruling favors public access instead of restricting it! The ruling comes as a big surprise to me because of my perception that many Utahns are very territorial, bordering on paranoia in some cases, when it comes to land ownership and the government (not so much that others are given access to their property, but that the government is telling the landowners what can be done with their property). Also, the preponderance of agricultural interests in the state.
This will mostly affect our local Cache Valley angling in the Blacksmith Fork River. In the last two years land owners have begun posting their land along portions of the bottom 5 miles of river. These were some of my favorite spots I had fished for over 20 years.
Last summer I talked with the security man posting signs. He said that the land had been owned for quite a few years by several absentee landowners. I asked if he would tell me who they were so I could contact them for permission to fish the water. He said they wouldn’t grant permission because they wanted to keep the fishing for themselves. Now I can fish there again!
The other place that will open up is about 20 miles of river along the upper Blacksmith that is owned by the Millers Brother’s operation. Many fishing enthusiasts have long desired to fish there. Now they have the chance.
There are sections of The Little Bear River that runs through the Paradise/Avon end of Cache Valley that will be affected as well. There are a couple of private fishing operations there. One is owned by a friend of mine. We’ll see what happens.
Forums discussing the issue:
And it showed up at Moldy Chum’s place.
Now, who has the cojones to take up the gauntlet the Utah Supreme Court has dropped? Anyone for testing Utah’s new public easement ruling to determine what is "reasonable and cause[s] no unnecessary injury to the landowner"?