I know a field ripe for a morning photo shoot. (instead of working on my Day 3 post—I did get a little done last night).

Hopefully you enjoy at least one of these.

Click an image to enlarge.

We took Dan’s across the street neighbor, Ken (he is a very nice guy, by the way). He’s only fly fished a couple of times before. It was great to hang out with someone who hasn’t fly fished much and is interested in learning how—not just the motions, but actually asking questions and using the advice given to him. We may have overloaded him with info (sorry Ken!).

But it made me think about all of the little things in fly fishing that eventually become natural to you. Everything from casting to fly and line management when the fly is finally on the water. Lies (uhhh…not that kind of lying, those come automatically to all fishermen) as in, where the trout are in the water. Insects. Fly selection, etc. But I was more focused on this little fishing time with fly drift and line management—making that fly look right on the water.

In trying to vocalize to Ken what to do with his arm/hand to make the fly look like it should on the water, I realized ho involved it really was. Cinnamon Creek is small with lots of overgrowth. So getting a “real” cast just isn’t typical there. This also means that most of the fishing was done within 20 feet of us, usually more like 10 feet. There is plenty of pocket water too. So this isn’t your 50′ cast and then let fly and line float back to you.

Since the float line catches in chutes going from one pocket to the next, it’s important to keep the float line out of the fast water. If you don’t the line is going faster than the slick water in the pocket above that has your fly in it. Therefore your fly just drags through the pool. So you have to learn to keep the fly at the same speed as the pocket water.

You do a quick roll cast then almost immediately flick a little slack into the line, or, since we were so close to the pockets we fished, the best method was usually highsticking. You roll cast the fly into the pocket then lift the rod up. Not just the rod tip, but actually lift your entire arm up so the whole rod goes up. This lifts the float line off the water and allows you to control the fly.

It’s pretty much an automatic response for me when fishing this kind of water. But it has to be taught to beginners.

Ken was a great student and in just an hour or so of fishing (actually, with three guys sharing one little creek and Ken spending a fair amount of time with snags and wind knots, I’d say more like 30 minutes of fly on the water time) he caught his first fish on a fly:

The fishing was pretty good overall. I lost a nice one and landed several decent ones. Dan landed a handful too. Ken caught a larger fish than this picture (but he said he didn’t need any more pictures). He also lost a couple of decent sized fish.

Great fun! Thanks for coming Ken.

While I’m getting my post together about fish pain and cruelty, thought I’d drop a couple of photos to look at. Hopefully I’ll be fishing for an hour or two later this afternoon on the Blacksmith Fork River.

We’re suffering from a classic case of Cache Valley Inversion. The cold, dirty air is trapped, and the warm, clean air is above. Several days every winter, our beautiful valley suffers from some of the worst PM2.5 pollution readings in the nation.

Some resuscitation was definitely in order. A place to suck in great gulps of clean air. What better place to put the mouth than at the river! (As if I need an excuse to go fishing.)

My goal was to get above the inversion. Fishing was secondary. Logan River is not my favorite place to fish in the winter because there aren’t many reliable hatches. But I really didn’t care, I just needed a reason to get out.

I made my way to the Dugway. One of my favorite areas to fish in the summer, I had never fished it in the winter. The air was crisp. The sky a vibrant blue—much better than the dusty gray smog of the valley.

There is a large (1/4 mile?) sweeping bend and the sun was only lighting the upper half, my favorite hole still in shadow. (You can see the canyon section on this Google map which is set up to follow along the road with their “street view” feature.) I geared up and walked along the shoulder about 100 yds. then bailed over the safety railing and down 150′-200′ below the road at a fairly steep angle. Enough snow was there that I could posthole my way down without slipping or sliding.

At 11:00 the temp, in the sun, was about 30°F. When I left home 35 mins. earlier, and 2000′ lower in elevation, it was 9°F. The river was exceptionally clear. The air fresh. The fish hidden. But I did catch a moose for you.

After an hour I struggled back up the steep slope an 1/8 mile further upriver from where I hopped in. I drove downriver to a place called Wood Camp. There are some springs along the northwest bank of the river where I have caught a few fish in the winter before.

The temp was now around 40°F and I was in my shirt sleeves (okay, a thermal top and long-sleeved turtleneck t-shirt). Still no fish. But I did  catch some nice chunks of lose ice in the shins and saw lots of anchor ice forming on the bottom of the river when I got past the springs.

I could have gone several places in the canyon, strapped on my x-country skis to get some fresh air. But I find myself doing that less and less the older I get. Same with hiking in the summer. It seems that when given the chance, I’m pulled to the water (I blame that on having been born Aquarius – the water-bearer; or maybe because my dad was in the navy; or maybe from so many months in the embryonic fluid—okay, I’m reaching a bit here). Whatever the reason, I am indeed pulled to water and would rather spend my time in it not catching fish than skiing or hiking (whether near water or not).

I spent time leisurely changing flies as the sun warmed my shoulders. I leisurely changed flies—so different from the frantic changing that comes when a hatch is on and the fish are rising to everything except my fly. It doesn’t matter how many times I switch or how long it takes on these kinds of days.

When I don’t expect to catch anything, I spend time practicing my very lacking nymphing or streamer skills.  There’s a control to my casts that I usually don’t get when I’m actually trying to catch fish. When I’m rigged up for nymph fishing at those frenzied times, I often get incredible knots as my fly and bobber strike indicator (and sometimes weight) tangle together. Not so when I’m strolling the river.

I kept looking into the blue sky to remind myself what it looked like, having missed the unsullied blue expanse for so long. I swigged the air, alternating inhaling through my nose and my mouth trying to coat as many sensory receptors as I could with the vestal air.

It was a fine day to resuscitate mind and lungs.

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.

For text about this area, try Sleepless Autumn Night.

Get the latest fishing/water reports here. Updated Blacksmith Fork River (May 29, 2008). Logan River (May 17, 2008) and