Yeah, okay, let’s get this out of the way right here at the beginning. These were the words of “Talking Bull” (AKA Dan) to me this morning.

If anyone read this post, they should know those were Talking Bull’s plans. I was okay with the plans when he first mentioned them—no complaints. Even after we spent a lot of time walking for no fish, I was still okay with it.

So it was my turn to plan our “if-this-is-Monday-we-must-be-fishing-Idaho” day. I chose to go to the Portneuf River in Idaho. You’d think I killed the poor guy! “Oh, Walks Like turtle, I don’t think you want to go there.”

“Well, I just read The Coach’s website, and it sounds okay to me. Why won’t I like it?

“In it’s glory days it must have been phenomenal. But I fished it a few years ago and it’s just too slow and there are mostly rainbows.”

Of course, since we like to fish for natives, he figured that would turn me off. But I’d read some things and saw the coach’s report and figured it would be worth a shot—it certainly couldn’t be worse than last Monday, I thought.

“I’d still like to give it a try, just kind of see what’s there.”

“Okay, okay, you get to choose and I won’t say anything more.”

So I planned on swinging by his house at 7:00AM so we could get a good start. We planned on reconnoitering an unfished creek and checking out the fishablity of the West Fork of the Bear River, so we wanted to have enough time to get Bull back by 6:00PM.

Obviously Talking Bull forgot the promise of last night, because he kept mentioning the unpromising conditions of the Portneuf off and on to our first place, Birch Creek. Birch creek is a tributary to Mink Creek. We wound our way up Birch Creek Rd for a couple of miles. Dan got out and tossed a fly in the water in a few spots. (see pictures below) The water looked great, quite fishable. But a couple of dozen casts in three separate locations didn’t bring any rises. We turned and headed to our next checking spot, West Fork of the Bear River.

The West Fork is a nice tucked away spot (don’t ask—we won’t tell). It has a healthy population of cutthroat, so it is right up our alley. Talking Bull first started fishing this place some ten or so years ago. He figures it will probably be blown out, but he wants to check “In case the Portneuf isn’t any good. I hope you won’t be disappointed with the Portneuf.”

Well, the West Fork not only was not blown out, it was perfect! We drove up to a particular spot where a fire went through recently. It looked terrible and was actually above where we usually fish. We walked along the bank and Talking Bull couldn’t resist—he went back to the truck and got his rod and tossed his fly in. A couple of casts and he missed a strike. But that got his blood going. A couple of casts later and he was hooked in. (see pictures below)

Right click and choose “play” to see Talking Bull with first cutt of the day.

“That’s it, we’re fishing here!” he said.

“Not so quick,” I replied. “I still want to go to the Portneuf.”

“What? You’re kidding me! This is great!”

“Nope, we can come back here later in the afternoon. Consider this fish foreplay—leaving now will only make coming here later all that much more enjoyable.”

“Three hours. I’ll give you three hours.”

So off we went in search of the sure-to-be-disappointing Portneuf. Of course, I think I heard, “I hope you won’t be disappointed,” several more times. To his credit, Talking Bull also tossed in one, “I could be wrong.”

The Portneuf is an ugly little cuss where it meanders into Lava Hot Springs. It looks like some of the creeks here in Cache Valley that mosey through farm country—slow and dirty. There are groups (Cariboo Conservancy and the Portneuf River Ecosystem Project) trying to get the Portneuf back to the blue-ribbon trout stream it apparently was before the 70′s.

We stopped at “Mike’s Place” and looked over the bridge (see pictures below). There were lots of fish with some in the 16″+ range. None were feeding on top.

Talking Bull said we needed to go farther upstream so we did. Where the main road takes a large sweeping bend to the east there is a road that cuts to the north, Toponce Road. Just north on this road is a fishing access point. The whole area is surrounded by buck and rail fence. If you have ever fished Silver Creek, the river bed is very similar. It’s a great spring creek with a great rock and course sand bottom interspersed with weed beds. Not nearly as much silt and mud as Silver Creek. (see pictures below)

We cut through the field to the south of the parking lot and hopped in where the buck and rail fence met the water. We then waded downstream to the first big bend to the west. There was a nice batch of rocks with a large rock on the south bank. We saw a few risers. We had spotted some PMDs coming off so I tied one on. I got a couple of solid hits but couldn’t keep them on for more than a second or two. Talking Bull also had one on briefly, but couldn’t land either.

We headed downstream again, walking on the bank, keeping our eyes open for risers, but couldn’t see any. The water is exceptionally clear, but we couldn’t see many fish either. They seemed to hang in pods with the pods scattered here and there. We walked downstream a couple of hundred yards then worked our way back. Talking Bull spotted a couple of risers and we began casting upstream to them. They seemed to spook relatively easy when cast over. Talking Bull finally gave up and got out of the water. He spotted a dozen or more feeding upstream from me so I cast upstream. It spooked them.

We headed another 100 yards upstream and talked with a gentleman we saw catch one earlier. He verified that yes, they do seem to bunch up with lots of empty water between bunches. A nice calibaetis hatch came off earlier in the morning. He was currently fishing with a nymph.

We made it back to our first hole and cast to the another riser or two with no luck. A couple of yards above the hole we were fishing was a rise. I began casting to the rise and was soon into a nice 13″ bow that I landed. A couple of yards above that I landed a nice 14″ Yellowstone Cutthroat. Yeah, baby, that’s what we were after! Talking Bull was slightly placated that the trip was not in vain. (see pictures below)

We moved upriver to the spot right down at the end of the little road from the parking lot. A bridge used to cross the river here, but it’s gone. Downriver from the bridge is a big pool. When I was still a good 100 yards away i could see a rise. I could see a dorsal fin. It must have been a good-sized fish if I could see it from that distance. I fished up the the hole and Talking Bull just made his way to the pool. By the time he got there, there were a couple of nice fish rising.

Talking Bull was using a BWO emerger pattern. He cast several times and hooked a 20″ rainbow. He had it on for a minute or so and it worked itself loose. Being non-native fish, Talking Bull decided to call these little darlings “Bow-Ho’s” (pronounced boe-hoe, named for those artificially made-up ladies of the evening).

We watched as another, larger fish consistently rose to large BWO’s on the water. I was slightly upriver and Talking Bull made a cast to it. Rose and the fly disappeared—into the sky. Miss.

I tossed my fly upriver and let it float down several times. On about the fifth cast my fly also disappeared—into the sky as well.

Neither of us felt any weight on the line and the fish was still feeding. Talking Bull again cast and the fly disappeared. But this time the fish was on! I whipped out the camera and began videotaping the events. Talking Bull told me to get out there and help him.

I grabbed his net with my left hand (the right was still taping) and tried pulling Talking Bull and the net toward the fish. I continued to do this until the net was ripped from it’s mooring on Talking Bull’s fly pouch. The fish wanted nothing to do with me and vigorously avoided me at all costs. I continued to tape and stagger after the beast.

Talking Bull finally got it close enough that I could scoop the net over it’s head and slightly past its gills. It was then folded in two into the net with more than half its body, head and tail, now projecting from the net. That was one big fish! Unfortunately, with only one hand available (no matter how much Talking Bull wanted me to ditch the camera, I wasn’t about to put it away), the fly was caught in the net and the fish got away.

Talking Bull estimated him to be about 22″. My calibrated eyeball had him closer to 23″. He was tall and wide too.

“That was the biggest rainbow I have ever caught,” Talking Bull said for the second time.

I hope he wasn’t disappointed that I made him go to the Portneuf.

(continued on this post)

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