Tailing Carp Dreams

Yes, that’s my old car almost completely buried in snow in mid March. There’s some absolute garbage falling from the sky today here in Victor, Idaho. It’s been warm so the snow is soggy. It rained all night. Then it turned to sleet this morning and now it’s dumping snow. It’s just lovely! But, it’s a perfect day to paint a jumbo Snake River Cutthroat, do a little writing, continue packing and researching for Madagascar and . . . watch a little NCAA – absolutely perfect!

For some odd reason I’m craving mirror carp fishing over at Blackfoot Reservoir here in Idaho. You can’t even drive to Blackfoot at the moment because of deep snow and even better, the lake is covered with three feet of ice. Nonetheless, I sit here daydreaming about tailing mirror carp.

In case you’re not up to speed on your carp you should be aware there are many different types. Carp are natives to Asia and Europe, where there is a variety of species. They since made their way around the globe carried by settlers for food. Here in the US the most prevalent and widespread is the common carp (Cyprinus carpio), (top) which is so common that it is found in 48 of the 50 states. The mirror carp (bottom) is a mutation of the common carp and is so different in appearance that one might incorrectly assume that it is a separate species. But it’s not. It is actually descended from common carp bred by monks back in the 12th century to have few or no scales, making them easier to prepare for eating (Although we’ve tried, my friends and I haven’t had much success making them edible!).

The mirror carp’s shape is similar to that of the common carp, but its scales are fewer and significantly larger. Usually, the scales are arranged in linear fashion, with two rows on top of the back, one down the lateral line of each side, and a row along the belly, all separated by golden brown skin. Some mirrors, however, have completely haphazard scale designs, and others are fully scaled. No matter how many mirrors you catch, no two will be the same, but all will be beautiful.

Like most invasive species, all carp are harmful to our shallow lakes and wetlands. Their feeding disrupts shallowly rooted plants muddying the water and they compete for food and spawning habitat of the native species. But like the cockroach, house sparrow, starling, and the red fox to name a few harty species, carp aren’t going anywhere. With that in mind, I hope you do or will learn to enjoy fly fishing for them as much as I do!

To learn tactics, fly patterns and more on how to catch carp on a fly, here’s a link to my past article in American Angler Magazine. And learn about other warmwater fish from my book!

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing Website

Wildlife Viewing Turns to Fishing

October 5-6, 2010

Granny and I had big plans of doing a two day float this week. However, the weather called for cold temperatures and a mix of rain and snow. That’s not exactly fun floating and camping weather so we bagged it. We decided to do our annual fall trip to Yellowstone National Park earlier than normal and perhaps in two weeks Indian summer will return so we can do our two day float.

Despite great fall fishing in Yellowstone, our fall trip is really about the wildlife. I always pack a rod but it’s a great time to watch and hear the bull elk bugle and observe a grizzly or two fattening up for hibernation. We left the house late yesterday and didn’t even enter the Park until noon. We entered through Yellowstone’s South Gate and made a quick stop on the banks of an old favorite river of mine to eat some lunch. At this point the weather wasn’t so bad. It was overcast with a light drizzle but the temps remain unseasonably warm so we broke out the camp chairs and ate on the bank of this great river.

When I used to fish this river religiously, fall fishing was never worth it. I rarely found risers and that’s what is what this place is all about. But naturally as we chomped away on our sandwiches I instinctively watched for rises. Twice while I was looking away I thought I heard one. My head turned quickly and the surface was broken. But on this river, thermals, common in Yellowstone, often create these sounds and appear like a rise. I wasn’t sold that this disturbance was a trout.

I kept a watchful eye and sure enough I witnessed the disturbance. Indeed it was a rising trout. Naturally I had to try and catch him. This place is tough to fool a trout on a summer day with high water. In October the water is low and clear and yesterday the surface was like glass. Granny saw me stuff my last four bites of sandwich in my mouth as one and as I trotted to the car for my rod she rolled her eyes and told me I was wasting my time.

Getting humbled by a trout has never been a waste of time. If I failed I’d only be better next time. It was warm enough I didn’t need my waders and my 4-weight Ross still had the 18-foot leader and Mahogany Dun fly from Friday on the Henry’s Fork. I was ready to go with hardly any effort needed.

On still water like this, the trout has all the advantage. One bad cast or even a hasty false cast for that matter will send the trout running. With that in mind, I measured my distance with some false cast far away from the occasionally rising fish then crept into position. Then as I held my fly with the line stripped off ready to cast, I waited for the trout to rise one more time. He did and with one swift false cast I landed my fly exactly a foot above the rings of the rise. I held my breath as my fly drifted to the trout’s location and sure enough he munched it. I lifted gently and the battle was on.

Granny seemed very impressed and quickly fired up the camera. We had it handy because I was taking some pictures of October caddis flies during lunch. Then after a several jumps and a solid run I beached the sizeable brown trout. I was really surprised. A lunch break turned into a one cast one fish deal on a normally difficult river. Very cool stuff! After I released him I plopped back in my chair for desert, dark chocolate.

That was the only fish we saw from the lunch spot and being that fishing was not our priority I didn’t look for anymore. Instead we continued our journey north towards Lamar Valley and Cooke City, Montana, our final destinations for the day. Of course we did peek at a couple more rivers along the way. One was the Yellowstone River at the once called Buffalo Ford area. For more than twenty-five years I’ve never drove passed this spot without stopping to look for rising Yellowstone Cutthroats but yesterday there were none. Unfortunately the Yellowstone River in the Park has its problems these days and can often resemble the Dead Sea.

An hour later we made our turn from the Tower Falls area up towards Lamar Valley. Five miles into it after navigating through herds of bison you pass the turn into Slough Creek. This is another spot I don’t drive past without a stop. We drove the dirt road up towards the Slough Creek Campground and stopped at every spot where you can see the river. It was close to sunset. The temperature was dropping and there was a stiff breeze. It was far from ideal conditions for seeing rising fish. Then, unexpectedly we viewed a pool that had several feeding fish in a sheltered slick. There was just enough sun poking through the clouds that you could see we were in for an amazing sunset. Granny wanted to set out the chairs to watch it so I opted to wader up.

My rod was still rigged perfectly so I set out. Like the fish at our lunch spot, Slough Creek trout don’t give in easily in October. They have had tons of pressure and are skeptical of even the real bugs hatching from the water. Nonetheless, yesterday was obviously my day because on my first cast I hooked up. My fly simply bobbed in the wind chop for about five seconds and then got devoured by a nice Yellowstone Cutthroat. I landed him while Granny watched and shook her head with a smile. Wow! I released him then cast it out again and to my disbelief hooked up again. This time I landed a big cuttbow (cutthroat/rainbow hybrid). That was it. Three casts and three great fish. No sense in pushing it. I reeled in and grabbed a seat next to Granny for the sunset.

We finished the day by watching a black bear forage amongst some logs and then during the last glimmer of daylight we watched a grizzly sow and her cub along Soda Butte Creek. We grabbed some dinner at the Miner Bar in Cooke City then camped just outside of town. Due to the numerous grizzlies in the area there is no tent camping allowed so we slept in the back of the truck.

We got an early start this morning in hopes to view some wildlife but it was so foggy we could barley see the road. The morning remained foggy until 11 and by then we were long past Lamar Valley (our favorite bear area) and all the way to Gibbon River meadows. This is another favorite haunt of mine so I parked and walked out to the river. I couldn’t believe it. There was a blue winged olive hatch and fish rising everywhere. I ran back to the car and for a third time grabbed my already rigged 4-weight and headed out for a few fish.

I fished for about two hours. I must have caught twenty gorgeous little brown trout all on the same Mahogany Dun I’ve used all week. It was some of the best dry fly fishing I’ve had all season long. Granny and I finished the day with our three hour drive home through West Yellowstone and down through Idaho. In case you didn’t know by now, I’m a hard core baseball fan and the drive went quick as we listened to Roy Halliday's historical no hitter. Sometimes it’s the unplanned fishing days that are the best. Not just the fishing but everything that occurs during the day. This weekend was a prime example.

Expect me to be idle the next few days as I prepare to speak at Desert Fly Casters in Arizona next week. The good news though is that I will be fishing while in Arizona and should have some good bass, carp, crappie and etc fishing stories and photos to share soon.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

One Huge Rainbow, One Huge Patch of Weeds

October 1, 2010

I worked in a fly shop for twenty-three years. Most of my fellow employees worked a season or two to experience Jackson Hole Wyoming then moved on with their lives. If you add it up, I probably worked with over 100 different people during my time. Amazingly, I’m still good friends and keep in touch with more than half of these great people. Most of them are “grownups” and have families and don’t spend much time fly fishing anymore. However, when they make it through Jackson, we always try to squeeze in a day of fishing together. This week Chris Reinking of Atlanta, Georgia was in range and we met at the Harriman Ranch on the Henry’s Fork. Reinking worked for me during approximately 1997-1999.

Chris fished with another former employee of mine, Mike Patron (now from Bozeman Montana), on Monday. They fished on the upper Ranch just below the log jam and although they caught small fish, the big ones that bring you to the Ranch weren’t around. I’d had slow fishing on the upper Ranch last month so we decided to try mid Ranch and access it through what it called the Mail Box.

Whenever you fish the Ranch look forward to more than just fishing. Usually in the fall you hear bugling elk and expect a moose or two to cross the river while you cast to a fish. Today we had not only that but we ran into some cowboys herding cattle. Reinking and I were rigging our rods at our cars when we heard a stampede heading our way from the forest behind us. We kept a watchful eye and sure enough out came hundreds of head of cow fleeing from six cowboys on horseback. What appeared like total chaos to Chris and I was completely organized by the skilled wranglers. One cowboy left the pack and bravely stopped traffic on the busy Route 20. Then in less than five minutes they forced every single cow through the tight Mail Box entrance to the Railroad Ranch.

Needless to say it was a dusty walk to the river through the noise of hundreds of mooing cows. It was hotter than a normal day in August and there wasn’t an ounce of wind. This has been the hottest fall I can remember. When we got to Cattleman’s Bridge we opted to cross and walk downstream to where I saw several big fish way back in June during my Marathon. We grabbed a seat in the tall dying grass and observed while we caught upon the happenings in our lives. Slowly, the Henry’s Fork came to life. First just a couple Mahogany Duns appeared. Then before we knew it there was a steady flow of them. I love the Mahogany dun hatch because they are easy to see. After months of tiny PMD’s and Trico’s down to size 22, Mahogany Duns seem huge.

Numerous small rainbows began to rise. Then the occasional medium size rainbow showed and disappeared. A medium size rainbow in the Ranch is in the 14” to 16” range. While a great fish, on the Ranch I rarely get up to cast until I spot a fish that I think is 18” or over. Reinking said screw it. He doesn’t have time to watch a bunch of fish rise and he wandered out and set up on some medium size trout. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore either. I was just about to make my first cast with my CDC  Mahogany Dun when out the corner of my eye I saw a huge head break the surface on the far bank. Then I saw the fish again. I could tell from the size of his nose and the push of water he created when he rose that this was the fish I was here for. The massive rainbow was slowly moving upstream feeding on every dun that drifted his way.

I waded right over the top of the medium sized fish I was going to fish too. Many times on the Ranch, these big fish feed aggressively for a few minutes then disappear. I wasn’t waiting around. I wanted to make my first cast on him within the minute. I came within inches of flooding my waders twice before I was in position to make a cast. Once there I delicately placed a cast upstream to him with my 4-weight Ross. Casting upstream over the top of a rising fish is risky business. You must have a long leader. My typical Ranch leader in the fall is nearly 18-feet long! And you never want to cast so far that your fly line goes over the trout. While a delicate leader usually goes unnoticed, even the light weight of the tip of my Rio Double Taper Trout LT line can be enough to send the trout running.

My first cast was on the money and I collected the slack from my leader as my fly drifted towards me. I knew the large rainbow was looking. Then I saw the water below my fly displace and as I took a deep breath expecting the trout to break the surface and eat my fly, he refused it. S . . . I thought to myself! Not only did he refuse my fly but I didn’t have another on me to change to. My flies were on shore in my pack all the way across the river where Chris and I were hanging out. If I took the time to go back and get them, surely this trout would be gone. I had no choice but to keep presenting and hope I could force feed this selective giant. Over and over I dropped my fly while the fish dodged it and rose to every natural that went by. It was unnerving being so close to this hungry brute with the wrong fly. I was just losing hope when he refused my fly again. This means he’s still thinking about it and if you keep up what you’re doing the trout eventually gives in. I knew it was just a matter of time. Sure enough, twenty casts more and our standoff ended when he gently sipped my fly.

My tippet was a mere 6X. Thank goodness Rio 6X Powerflex is a heck of a lot stronger than tippet was in the past. Still, rather than a violent hook set, all I had to do was raise my rod and the game was on. At first the rainbow thrashed and made some short runs. That lasted about 30 seconds before he was off and running upstream. The biggest fear now is getting broke off in the weeds. Like most spring creeks, the bottom of the Ranch is an entanglement of vegetation. Fighting trout love to go under weed beds and out the other side and then the same in the next patch. Your fly line and leader have no choice but to follow. Usually you get tangled and the trout breaks you off. This fish was unwisely staying high in the water column. As he charged upstream I followed keeping as close as I could. Finally he used the weeds to his advantage and everything stopped. Somehow I felt he was still on. I was sure the trout himself was buried in the weeds. I reeled and waded to exactly where he was. There was my leader and tippet leading right into a thick patch of weeds. I reeled to within a foot of my leader butt and stuck my foot in the weeds  where my tippet led. He was there. While creating slight pressure by pulling the leader by hand and shuffling my feet in the weeds at the same time, out came the monster rainbow. He was easily 20 inches and he was tired. I let go of my leader and lifted my rod tip to bring the trout to the surface where I intended to tail him. That’s when he let out one last surge. This time I wasn’t so lucky. The amazing rainbow that I could have touched seconds ago took off down stream and through the weeds again, this time he broke me off. Dang!

It would have been nice to have a photo of the rainbow trout of the year up on the blog today, but it doesn’t always work out that way. Although I came close, the usual happened and I got weeded before I could celebrate. Reinking was just heading my way with his camera in hand when he stopped to hear my words of dissatisfaction. Then I followed those ear  burners by shouting, “Beer Break”. No matter how the fishing is there’s nothing better then time with old friends. Chris had his own chance at a nice fish later but he too lost the battle. We each caught a handful of little guys and at sunset we headed for Trout Hunter for dinner and beer. No fishing for a few days, it’s time to get some work done.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

Nothing but Yellow Belly

September 26, 2010

What a September! Today was in the 80ºs. The sky was cloudless and there wasn’t an ounce of wind all day. The willows, aspens and cottonwood trees are glowing with gold and the hillsides are vibrant red from the wild roses, mountain maples and hawthorns. Hardly a single turned leaf has fallen yet. September is truly the best time of year in the Yellowstone area and this year we are having the best of the best.

Today I floated the Moose to Wilson section of the Snake River in Jackson Hole Wyoming with Gary Eckman and Cooper. Cooper you should remember from previous blogs is Gary Eckman’s fourteen year old son that has become quite a proficient fly fisher. We got an early start today of about 8 am. Right now, 8 am is about sunrise here. It should have been freezing cold but instead it was a balmy 50 degrees. We all wet waded from start to finish.

Fishing started surprisingly slow despite the seemingly perfect conditions. I rowed the first hour while Cooper practiced his streamer fishing and Gary plopped an ant pattern along the banks. Other than a follow on the streamer and a small swirl behind the ant the cutthroats were asleep. Wildlife always seems to make up for lack of fish. We saw a gigantic bull moose tearing up some willows, a mule deer and her nearly full grown fawn, numerous elk, eagles and a long tail weasel along the banks as we drifted. Just to spice things up even more we floated into the famous “Bourbon Channel”. I’m not a big fan of the channel as it is one if you are the oarsman you row and that’s it. You can’t relax and enjoy your surroundings for even a split second or you’ll sink the boat. The Bourbon Channel is small and winding. The water moves fast and there are boat flipping snags and debris every inch of the way. It’s probably one of the most treacherous sections of all the Snake River. Take your eyes off what’s ahead of you for a second and your life is in danger.

We successfully navigated through even the most hair-raising mazes of the channel. There was no doubt that my workout for the day was complete. Once we got back to the main river the fishing turned on. It could have been the time of day but I think it was the slower water. This time of year the Snake River cuttys like a steady flow along a rocky ledges and the drop-offs just below riffles. There were plenty of bugs hatching. This late summer weather continues to deliver PMD’s. It’s late for PMD’s but we saw some. Then there were numerous Mahogany Duns and the occasional Snake Drakes, a large mayfly about a size 12. Fish began to rise and we all fished dry flies for the remainder of the day.

Today’s highlight, was watching Cooper catch his biggest fish ever on a dry fly on the Snake. The catch occurred during a time when he was getting a little distracted. The Snake River has one of the best sucker populations you can imagine. If you look into the water from the front of the boat while drifting you notice huge fish moving along the bottom all day long. While many anglers freak out thinking they are all huge trout, most of us know that most of these fish are actually suckers. Naturally, the fact that they are so much bigger than most trout in the river, Cooper wants to catch one bad. And while he should be carefully mending and watching his drifting dry fly, he’s often in a trance staring into the water ahead of the boat. I always watch his drifting fly and find myself constantly telling him to mend, dry your fly, recast and when we are lucky, set the hook. I must sound like a broken record.

Fortunately for us, not the cutthroat, Cooper was watching his fly when a big yellow belly slowly elevated from bottom to the surface and ate his Mahogany Wulff. You could see that this was a big trout and somehow Cooper kept his cool and set the hook on him like a pro. But once the fish was on, Cooper got very nervous. Now he truly knew how big this trout was and like any kid he wanted this fish in the net. He wisely asked for advice on the best way to get him there. Gary and I were thrilled and did our best of coaching Cooper through the event. He handled it beautifully and a few minutes after hook up I netted Cooper’s gorgeous cutthroat trout.

It was another great day on the Snake River in Jackson Hole Wyoming. Cooper relished in his success for an hour or so before going on a full time sucker hunt. Gary and I  enjoyed the weather and scenery and took turns fishing and rowing. We caught plenty of fish but today was by no means as good as it has been in previous weeks. As much as I’m not ready for it, what we really need to trigger our fall fishing is fall weather. Next on the agenda Granny and I will be chasing some big browns and brookies on some secret lakes. Stay tuned . . .

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

Slow Fishing Couldn't Be More Fun

September 18-19, 2010

Five days in a row without fishing breaks that four day record I set a few weeks ago. But I had work to get done because from here on out I need to be ready to enjoy the fall and some of the best fishing of the year. The last two days I fished with friends Ben Brennan, Doug McKnight and Micah Kruger (Meeks). All three guys worked for me in the Jack Dennis fly shop years ago and unlike most of my former employees they are still in the fly fishing business. Ben lives in Jackson, WY and is a fishing guide for Snake River Anglers. Doug lives in Livingston, Montana and just quit working at the Yellowstone Angler Fly Shop to pursue his art and fly tying. Doug is a contracted fly tyer for Umpqua Feather Merchants and is the man behind patterns such as the Home Invader, Sweetgrass Hopper and the Pigpen Leech. These are great flies and if you don’t have them in your box you need to get some. Meeks lives in Bend, Oregon and is a representative for fly fishing service products including Fishhound, a fly fishing information site and FLyBOOK, a fishing guide and outfitter reservation system. When you get a chance, definitely check out the Fishhound website.

We don’t see enough of each other these days so we wanted to make sure we did something exceptional. Our choice, an overnighter in the canyon of the South Fork of the Snake River. Even though I’ve been on the South Fork weekly all summer long, I loved the idea of doing it again. As you know by now from my previous reports the South Fork has fished its best in over ten years.

We launched our two boats at Husky (two miles below the Palisades Dam) Saturday morning and pulled out at Byington, some thirty-four miles downstream on Sunday night. When we pushed off, the boats were heavy and low in the water due to our camping supplies and an excessive amount of food and drink. One thing we all love to do is eat like kings on a camping and fishing trip. We had bratwurst, steak, chicken, a heap of veggies, cookies and chocolate bars along with a few tasty brews to wash the delicious food all down. Regardless of the weight, we started fishing immediately. I rowed Doug in my boat and Ben rowed Meeks. Doug busted out of the gates with a healthy brown on his Home Invader streamer pattern. Things were looking good but that brown actually turned out to be the only fish for the first few hours. At about 2 pm I took a small side channel and Doug twitched a big ant pattern on the  surface and caught a big cutthroat/rainbow hybrid. Shortly after we met up with Ben and Meeks for lunch and unfortunately they had not landed a fish yet.

It was obvious the South Fork was not fishing like it had all summer. It finally slowed down. I often wonder how a river can simply shut down like this. Perhaps it’s from the fishing pressure or simply a slow down in hatches. The South Fork typically shuts down in August then picks up again in September. But not this year. It’s been good since the season started. It was no wonder it finally got tough.

Tough fishing was not going to put a damper on this trip. The weather was a toasty 75º degrees. There was very little wind and the bratwursts made for a scrumptious lunch. We had a ways to go before night fall so we turned the next few hours in to a joy ride out of the civilization found on the Upper South Fork stretch and floated into the wilderness of the Canyon. Entering the canyon at sunset is a sight to behold. Making few casts at the same time and you may as well have died and gone to heaven. Doug racked up a couple nice cutthroats before we rowed into camp near the mouth of Pine Creek.

Preparing camp was simple. There was no need for tents. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. We just threw down our insulate pads and sleeping bags and set up our camp chairs. Then we watched Meeks make a kitchen and prepare about twenty shish kabobs. My mouth was watering at the shear sight of them. It was all I could do to hold back. Luckily the talk and drink kept us all in check. By the time our feast was over the sky was full of stars. We brewed up a nice fire for warmth and kicked back. Just as all was perfect,  Ben’s dog went crazy barking up a tree. I whipped my light into the tree expecting to see a raccoon and was surprised to see a baby pine marten. He was cute as can be gazing down at us from the cottonwood tree. I’ve seen quite a few over the years but it was a first for the boys. We watched him a few minutes then the dog lost interest and it was back to the fire.

It’s amazing how fast these weekends go by. We had a relaxing morning warming up in camp with coffee then fished hard all day. Today Meeks hopped in my boat and Ben and Doug fished together. The fishing was slow again. We caught a few nice fish but it was nothing like the fishing I’ve been spoiled with all summer. However there were no complaints. Today was an unusual 80º degrees and anytime you get a bonus day of summer in September you smile. We pulled the boats and empty coolers out at the Byington Boat Ramp at 7 pm and made a dash for burgers at the Knotty Pine in Victor Idaho. A great trip with friends came to an end.

Ben has to work tomorrow but Dougy, Meeks and I might wet a line somewhere special for a few hours tomorrow. We’re pretty beat from our two day adventure so we aren’t committing to anything. We’ll just wake up in the morning and decide on fishing over coffee on the back porch.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

The Grind

September 12, 2010

Day 2 in the Jackson Hole One Fly is where you need to make things happen. With our team in 2nd place we wanted to make the move forward and win the One Fly. Realistically, all each of us needed to do was have a slightly above average day. This sounds easy, but isn’t. Out of four anglers one could simply lose their fly, pick the wrong fly or just plain and simple, have an off day. I had pressure on me to perform. I drew the South Fork and it typically produces higher scores. While average on the Snake River is about 250 points, average on the South Fork is about 350 points. I really needed to make sure and break 400.

Deciding what fly to use was difficult again. Originally I planned to fish a streamer, but streamers are risky. Indeed the streamer paid off yesterday, but risk wasn’t such a factor as our team wasn’t in 2nd place yesterday. You can easily snag a streamer on unseen sunken tree branches or a rock and your fly is gone. The other thing about streamers is that when the fish aren’t on them, you could get skunked. Either way, if I didn’t come back today with a full card I’d hurt the team.

I arrived at the South Fork Lodge for breakfast at 6:15 am. This is where our guides and boat mates meet up for the South Fork. I had breakfast with good friend Mike Lawson. Mike too was in the One Fly and was also spinning about what fly to use. He also scored well on the Snake River yesterday and knew a good South Fork score would help his team and perhaps move him into high individual standings. Taking the pressure off us, we both decided we’d leave our fly choice up to our guide.

When my fly fishing guide Mike Bean arrived at the breakfast table he didn’t exactly tell me what fly to use. He too was torn. He’s seen me hammer fish on streamers and would do anything to see it today, but today the weather was crisp and clear and temperatures were expected to reach 77º. Streamer fishing on the South Fork can be slow I such conditions. With a small Pale Morning Dun dry fly he was sure I could fill my measured fish card. That is if I could keep the fly all day without losing it and hope that it didn’t fall apart. Both are major concerns with a small fly. Then we met my boat mate Scott. Scott was set on fishing a small dry fly. That was it; I too would go with a size 18 Pale Moring Dun Parachute Cripple.

Mike Bean is one of the best South Fork River guides and he had a plan. He pushed us away from the Spring Creek Boat Ramp at 8:15 and rowed like a mad man so that we would be in a good dry fly spot at exactly 8:30. Like yesterday, it was cold as heck and thick frost blanketed everything. When we got to Mike’s spot it was too cold. Not a fish stirred and even blind casting to where we knew fish lived did not entice a rise.

Fortunately, as the sun rose so did the thermometers. Today was going to be another September day of dreams. Scott and I simply had to be patient with our small flies. If the trout weren’t awake yet there was no sense in casting them to the banks and risk loss and add unnecessary wear and tear. With the exception of a few riffles we relaxed, held our flies and waited for the first insects to hatch.

It took longer then we expected. At 10:30 neither of us had one point on our score cards. There were no bugs and no rising fish. It was plenty warm enough by now. I was in shorts and a t-shirt and I was hot. Where were the fish? Mike remained cool and rowed us to his next spot. Sure enough there was our first  rising fish of the day. Scott and I were rotating the front of the boat each hour and it happened to be my turn. I studied the fish’s rises for a minute then delicately landed my cast. My presentation was poor compared to a normal day. The reason being that I was attempting to fish my tiny dry fly on 2X Rio Powerflex Tippet. On any normal day of fishing I’d have a size 18 dry fly attached to 4X or perhaps even 5X. But this was the One Fly Contest; I wasn’t going to risk fishing with a light tippet this early in the day. I flipped a couple mends in my fly line to help my stiff looking fly along and to my delight up came a gorgeous Yellowstone Cutthroat to consume it. I set the hook and like a normal day in paradise the fish was on and I brought the 16” trout to the net. Yes, I had my first fish of the day.

I was set to measure the trout. He was easily 16 inches and would score me 60 points, but Mike had bigger fish in mind. Somehow he talked me out of measuring the fish and accepting him as a mere 2 pointer. Wow! I was hesitant, but I picked the fish from the net and released him without measuring him. Then I plucked my fly up from the net and was just about to drop it and roll cast it out again to start fishing when I saw my PMD was not attached to my leader. My tippet had broken in the net! My heart dropped and a feeling of near disaster overtook me. When I told Mike what happened he nearly went into shock too.

I had work to do. Somehow I damaged my tippet earlier in the morning and didn’t know it. I cut the entire piece off and carefully tied on another with a triple surgeons knot. It took much longer than normal as my hands were shaking. Then I leaned back in my chair with my fly tightly clenched in my left hand and took a breather while Scott made some casts to some more rising fish. That was a close call.

Ten minutes went by and Scott wasn’t getting it done. Several fish rose to his fly but he missed each one. Mike asked me if I was finally ready. I was still rattled, but I made my cast and quickly hooked up. I landed another gorgeous 16” cutty. And once again, Mike talked me into taking him as a mere 2 point fish. I was a little uneasy letting these 16 inchers go without measuring them for bonus points. I knew all I needed was 400 points to help my team. What if now after I let these guys go I didn’t fill my card, or worse, lost my fly?

I missed the next three quality fish that ate my fly. It seemed my luck was taking a turn for the worst. It was after 11 when finally I hooked up again. Although I was relieved, this wasn’t a gentle fighting cutthroat but rather a scrappy rainbow. The bow leaped twice and then took off for the middle of the river and dove for bottom. I had little control. I knew he was down deep looking for trees to snag me on and rocks to grind my tippet against. It was really gut wrenching. At last, the fish gave in and Mike netted the rainbow. Enough is enough I said to Mike, measure that fish. I was just too uncomfortable without a bonus point fish on the board. He measured the rainbow and sure enough he was 16 inches on the nose.

I continued to miss fish but managed to pick up two more bonus point trout so that by 1:00 I had two 16 inchers and a 17 incher on the measure card along with several two point fish. I had three more hours to reach 400 points. Unfortunately Scott still sported a zero. He just wasn’t connecting at all. When Scott returned to the front of the boat Mike worked hard by coaching him while he fished to a pod of risers. It went on for fifteen minutes or so while I patiently watched from the back of the boat. It just wasn’t happening for Scott. Then in one swift move Mike spun the boat and said Jeff take a shot. I whirled a false cast straight up in the air as not to hook anything in the boat and as I went forward I felt my fly burry into  something high above us. It was a cedar tree branch dangling a good 30-feet above the river. Disaster had struck.

As the three of us tracked my fly line and leader up to the cedar branch there was dead silence. It was worse than initially thought. The branch was a snarled mess of twigs and needles high above the boat. You could follow my leader with your eyes but the fly was buried out of sight. By now Mike had the anchor dropped and was heading up the bank as if to just climb the tree and undo the mess. But it wasn’t so easy. This was a big tree extending off a cliff like bank and the first branch to grab for climbing was 10-feet up.

I handed my rod to Scott and headed up to the base of the tree where a bewildered Mike Bean stood with a very sad look on his face. I simply asked him for ten fingers and up I went to where I could grab that first branch. Using complete adrenaline, I swung my legs up and started to wiggle my way through closely knit branches high into the tree. Once I thought I was at the branch my fly was on, I asked Scott to pull tight to my fly. Soon I was scaling my way out over the river on this branch. But there was no way. I was out as far as I dared. The branch dipped down and swayed side to side as if it were about to snap. If the branch broke from under me I’d fall 30-feet onto jagged river rock. All I could see was my 2X Rio Tippet tightly wound and snagged deep in a cluster of branches about 8-feet from my reach. I was absolutely screwed.

Our first move was to try to reach it with the net. Mike threw it up to me and even it got tangled in the branches. This was not the tree to mess with. At last I got it and pushed it towards the end of the branch where my fly was. It was a useless operation. As I sat there uncomfortably and discouraged as you could be, I gazed at the anchor rope in the boat below me. That was it. If it was long enough I could tie it to this branch and from the ground we could pull on it until it snapped. It was a long shot, but the only shot.

Mike and Scott had to be shaking their heads by now, but Mike went through the trouble to disconnect his anchor. I hung like a monkey from my knees and Mike threw me the rope. I wrapped it around the branch so we had two ends of the rope to pull on and our last hope was underway. I climbed down and stood in the boat with my rod while Mike, a good sized man, pulled the rope. At first the branch was like a rubber band, it just wouldn’t break. Mike was actually getting tired of bouncing on that rope. Then without any hint at all the entire 300lb branch came crashing down on Mike and I. Once we realized no one was hurt we cheered and laughed. We had made a historic fly rescue.

My fly still wasn’t easy to find. It was tangled in there so bad that we never could have retrieved it by pulling my tippet. I was drained. I was scratched up, stressed out and plopped in the back of the boat and drank a beer. Now I had less than two hours to catch at least three more measurable fish. And poor Scott still hadn’t caught a single fish. Worst of all the trickle of a hatch we had earlier was all but gone. Things were ugly.

I felt terrible that I put my boat mates through such drama. I drank another beer and just sat and watched as Scott drifted his PMD along the bank while Mike back rowed. I wanted to fish but Scott needed to catch one first. There were absolutely no randomly rising trout. About then Scott buried his fly in the back of my neck. I let out a yelp. I don’t care what you say; even a small fly in the neck hurts. The One Fly is a barbless tournament so I reached up and carefully grabbed it and attempted to jerk it out. Unfortunately the flattened barb wasn’t flattened all the way and the skin on my neck stretched out an inch and snapped back putting the fly deeper into my neck. It was in there good. Scott felt terrible. I told him no big deal and Mike pulled over and with his forceps made a nice clean rip and the fly was out. Mike said it was time to check on his pets so while I soaked up a little blood with my t-shirt off we went to the cliffs of the South Fork Canyon.

There’s always a few cooperative fish at the cliffs. Scott tucked a cast into the first cave and wham, he had his first fish of the day and it was 15”. I was glad to see Scott on the board. As they measured I snuck my own cast back in the cave and I landed a 17” cutthroat. Things were looking up again. I only needed two more fish of 16 inches to rally for 400 points.

Let’s just say the last hour was a grind. Scott all but gave up on the day. It was hot. There was no hatch. Most of Mike’s pets were hiding. Things were bleak. I felt I didn’t deserve it, but Scott gave me the front of the boat again. For the last 45 minutes or so I made risky cast after risky cast. Sometimes I tossed my tiny PMD against the willows in fast water while other times I side armed so far back under trees that if I got hung we’d never find the fly. And it paid off. I went on to fill my card and my measurables included three 16” and three 17” trout. I also had sixteen two pointers and by miracle, kept my fly for another 25 point bonus. It was one of the toughest competition days I can remember but I grinded out 460 crucial points.

My poor boat mate landed only one fish. He wasn’t alone. Although there were a few fantastic scores on some fancy ant, many on the stretch did not fill their cards. This included Mike Lawson who hooked and lost a nice fish in the last minutes of the contest. When I arrived in Jackson after my near two hour drive from the South Fork Canyon, the scores were in. The Good Times Team had dropped to fourth place. Gary lost his fly before catching a fish today and our other anglers had a tough day. There was some good news though. Gary’s big 23 ½” brown from Day 1 earned him the big fish trophy and my grind of both days earned me third place individual. All our practice earned us something. It was a great One Fly and next year perhaps we can take the next step and the Good Times Team can win it all.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

A Good Start for the Good Times Team

September 11, 2010

While many fly fishermen still don’t like the sounds of competition fly fishing, I personally love it. I love when every fish has meaning and I love a day on the water when someone is keeping score. It’s an adrenaline rush that I used to thrive on when competing in the World Fly Fishing Championships. While the Jackson Hole One Fly Contest is not nearly as demanding as World Competition, it is competition nonetheless. And the Good Times Team is in it to win.

I awoke at 4:30 am without and alarm and meticulously went over my gear one last time. My stuff was ready three days ago but I just wanted to be sure. At 5:30 Rob Parkins picked me up and off we went to breakfast at the Gun Barrel Restaurant where the guides pick up all contestants for the day. I wolfed down a heap of food knowing there would be little time to eat lunch during the days contest. Then I met up with the competitor I fish against in my boat (It happens to be long time friend Joe Debryan) and our guide Charles Kempe and off we went to the Wilson Bridge Boat Launch.

The way the One Fly Contest works is each angler draws a random stretch of river and floats it with a randomly drawn guide and a person from another team. There are about 40 teams of four anglers each. Therefore there are 160 anglers spread out all over. The guide is the judge and measures and counts the fish caught. Every fish you catch is worth 2 points. It doesn’t matter if he’s 2 inches or 20 inches. He’s two points. Then, you are allowed to measure eight fish, six of which earn you bonus points. How many bonus points depend on the size of your eight measured fish. For instance a 12” trout is worth 10 points while a 16” fish is worth 60 points. Measured fish must be over 12”s and although it sounds easy to catch eight fish over 12”s, you would be surprised how many anglers don’t. If you don’t measure at least six, your score will be low.

Anyway, Joe, Charles and I had planned our attack on Thursday night at the cocktail party once we knew we drew each other. Even though Joe and I are competing for our own teams, it’s still advantageous to work together and fish similar flies. Per our discussion with Charles, we were set on making our one fly choice a dry fly. However, last night at the One Fly Dinner, I heard that the dries didn’t do so well yesterday on our stretch so I started considering a streamer. Now if one guy streamer fishes and the other dry fly fishes than each angler is hindered by the other. In other words I had to get Joe to do the same or stick to the dry. We discussed it and although Joe was a little reluctant, being the good guy that he is, he said he’d do it.

Our guide Charles Kempe wasn’t there last night so this morning we caught him by surprise when we told him we decided against the dry fly and were going with streamers. He had tied us each a bomb proof dry fly to use today. However he too knew the dry’s fished mediocre at best yesterday and was excited at the thought of a streamer. It was a done deal. I fished an olive weighted eyeballed streamer tied by Scott Sanchez and Joe fished his concoction that was browner in color.

It was cold as heck at the boat ramp at 8 am. There was a thick frost formed by the fog lifting off the Snake with the sunrise. It was going to be awhile before the cutthroats woke up. At 8:30 the tournament started and Charles pushed us off. Knowing the fish may not be eating yet, Joe and I each fished conservatively, not wanting to risk losing our one fly. Then at about 9:15 Joe landed a 14 incher. He wisely had Charles measure it and Joe was on the board. Joe went on to measure a 12 incher at about 10:30 yet I still didn’t have a fish. I hadn’t even rolled one yet and although there was plenty of time left (we fish until 4:30) I was ready for my first. Then finally I got one that was 15 inches at 10:40.

Our fishing improved as the day went on. Things warmed up considerably and soon it was one of those spectacular September days that Jackson Hole Wyoming is famous for. The sky was blue, the temps were around 70º and the Tetons were gleaming over the valley. Best of all, by noon, Joe and I each had four measured fish. I was very lucky in that one of mine was 17 inches and one was 18 inches long. It was obvious the streamer was the correct choice. There was little to no hatch occurring and we talked with competitors fishing dries from other boats and they weren’t doing well.

By 4:30 Joe and I each filled our measured fish cards and had a pile of 2 point fish to go with it. Our scores were excellent for that stretch of river. Joe scored around 380 points and I scored 450 points. Compared to most others, we were top scorers on Wilson to South Park. When I got back to the Gun Barrel Restaurant for dinner to catch up with my teammates, I found that everyone did well. Best of all, Gary Eckman, who was on the South Fork River today, caught a 24 inch brown. That trout alone earned him 300 points! He managed three other measurable trout and he scored over 500 points. With all our success today we are excited to say we are in 2nd place. Gary is in the top ten for individuals and I am in the top twenty. Best of all for me, I have the South Fork of the Snake River with Mike Bean tomorrow. I should be able to at least score another 400 points that should lift my standings and keep our team in the running. Things are good!

Sorry there are not more photos but you can’t put down the rod in competition too often. I can tell you there is a picture of Gary’s big 24” brown. I will get it posted as soon as I get the photo from Gary.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site