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

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

Repeat Today!

September 9, 2010

The 2010 Jackson Hole One Fly Contest is underway! The actual competition fishing part didn’t start yet (the fishing is Saturday and Sunday), but the stream of events started tonight. We had the kick off cocktail party and all contestants learned where they will be fishing, who their guide is and who they will be competing against in the boat. On Saturday I will be fishing on the Snake River from the Wilson Bridge to South Park Bridge. My guide is Charles Kempe and my boat partner is Joe Debryan. Although I’m not too excited about that stretch of river, both the guide and boat mate are friends so it should be lots of fun. On Sunday I’m fishing the Lower South Fork Canyon. I lucked out on my guide draw getting Mike Bean whom ironically Gary and I fished with today. My boat mates first name is Scott but I don’t know him and couldn’t not find him tonight. I’m sure he will be fun and we will have a great time.

Before the party, Gary Eckman and I fished together to get in one final practice day and to celebrate Gary’s birthday. You would never know it but Gary turned 70. Just like last week, Gary booked Mike Bean to guide us on the South Fork and I had the good fortune to go along. Since about the beginning of August Gary Eckman and I have fished at least one day a week on either the Snake or the South Fork rivers to sharpen our skills and get tuned in to what flies and tactics are working best this season. Some days we floated and fished on our own but the last three times Gary hired us a guide which I can tell you is quite a treat for me.

Today’s weather signals that fall is right around the corner. We awoke to a cold drizzle. Gary picked me up at my house at 7 and when we went over Pine Creek Pass it was actually spitting snow on top. All I could  think about was the fact that I didn’t bring my waders! Mike met us in Swan Valley Idaho and we were floating and fishing before 9. This was kind of a reconnaissance mission for him too. Guides also want to do well in the One Fly because they are awarded for having top scores from their boats.

I am torn on what fly to use in this contest. Remember, you are only allowed one fly each day. If you choose a lousy one you’re stuck with it. On that note, today I switched each hour to test a variety of bugs. I have come to the conclusion that as far as the South Fork goes I can fish a streamer, a size 18 PMD or even some type of Chernobyl ant and do well. The way the contest works is you really need to just catch six fish that you measure and get good points for. If they average over 15”s then you will get enough bonus points to  do well. I felt that today I could do that with any of these flies. Gary and I absolutely destroyed the fish. Honestly, I’ll bet we caught twenty fish over 16”s EACH! And several were over 18”s. Our scores would have been through the roof!

Today’s weather had a lot to do with it. It stayed nasty, cold and rainy all day. Really it was the kind of day most guide trips get cancelled. That’s a big mistake around here. Rainy weather always means good fishing in the Yellowstone area. The hatches today were the best I can recall and the fish were border line suicidal to eat any fly. The weather for the contest is predicted to be warm and sunny. Fishing conditions will be much different. However, I think that the Good Times Team is ready to rock and perhaps we can repeat today when it counts this weekend!

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

A Last Day Crushing!

Today was my sister Becky and brother-in-law Don’s last day in town. It didn’t look like they were going to go back to New Hampshire with any great fishing stories from this visit. Last week our jaunt to the Henry’s Fork was a near bust (although Becky pulled a hopper away from a beast). Then while they were in Yellowstone Park this week they were blown off Slough Creek by our windiest day of the season. And although yesterday was certainly fun getting three year old Sierra hooked up to some fish at the Victor pond, it wasn’t like Becky or Don got to wade a river for wild rising cutthroats. With that in mind, for their last day I wanted to take them to some place that they were almost guaranteed to catch a few fish. And not just little fish either. I wanted to see them catch some big beautiful fish on dry flies. Piece of cake – right? Well, such a request might be a piece of cake in my boat, but with a three year old and four adults the boat wasn’t an option. We had to walk.

I thought pretty hard about this and last night I came up with an idea – drive as deep into the Canyon of the South Fork as possible and hope to find at least a few cuttys feeding on a riffle. I’ve floated the Canyon several times this summer and the fishing has been no less than spectacular each time. And as long as you don’t mind driving your car up a dirt rod for twenty miles you can access some of this water on foot. By 11 am this morning we found ourselves at the end of the road on the banks of the South Fork Canyon.

We weren’t even out of our cars when Granny spotted a nice cutthroat nymphing. She was leaning out the passenger window staring at a fishy looking spot under a leaning river birch with leaves beginning to turn yellow. “There’s one!” Granny shouted. “Get over here Donald”.

It appeared Becky would be first on Sierra duty as Don already had his vest on and was speeding our way. By now I too was observing the cutty and was glad to see he was also rising to the first of the days hatching PMD’s. He was a hefty trout. He was easily pushing 15”s and thick around the belly. I could see his beautiful orange colorings as I looked down from the dirt road we were perched on. Catching this cutty would make anyone’s trip a success. For starters I had Don tie on a small Chernobyl Ant and wade into position. The trout was weaving in and out of some very strange currents but when I saw the opportune time I told Don to cast. He made a perfect presentation but the cutty had no interest in the ant.

I advised Don not to make another cast and to immediately change to a PMD. I had a feeling we would end up going this route, but it’s so much easier to see a Chernobyl on the water for someone who rarely gets to trout fish we had to try it. Often times the Chernobyl entices the strike. But the Chernobyl is also the type of fly that if the fish wants it he’ll eat it on the first cast. If he doesn’t and you keep trying, he quickly figures out that there’s an angler around and may stop eating everything altogether.

Don tied on a size 16 PMD and began to cast. By now there were two nice cuttys looking for PMD’s and I knew we had a good chance. As expected, the smaller sized fly was difficult to see and Don had trouble landing it where it needed to be. These fish really were in a technical spot and in order to get a good drift the cast needed to be right on the money. Once Don had a feel for the drift he laid the fly right in there and one of those gorgeous cutthroats ate it.

Unfortunately, the cuttys of the South Fork have and uncanny way of not getting hooked. We all saw the mouth close on Don’s fly but when he lifted his rod there was nothing but air. Unbelievable! Now the trout were wise to us and other than a few refusals we didn’t get hooked up.

Then it was Becky’s turn while Don watched Sierra. Granny, Becky and I walked down through some willows to a back eddy where some fresh fish were feeding in a bubble line. Becky is much more experienced than Don so Granny and I just grabbed a seat on a fallen cottonwood tree and watched. As Granny and I fought off some angry ants Becky presented the fly where it needed to be and a cutty ate instantly. But she too missed her first fish. I tell you, these guys really can be tough to hook. Becky was a little frustrated but she threw right back in there and hooked and landed one of the smaller risers of the pool.

Becky caught a few of the smaller trout before hooking a big one. I saw his large jaws close down on her fly  and the surprised look come over his face when he felt the hook. Then I watched him take off frantically and bolt from side to side in the pool. Becky’s 5-weight was bent and the game was on. By the time I scurried down to her to prepare to take some pictures the brute had worked his way to the main river. As we all know, the current and power of this river is amazing and the cutthroat had a huge advantage. I instructed Becky to put some heat on him and boy did she ever. Unfortunately it was too much heat and she broke him off.

Becky was bummed to say the least. So were Granny and I. There were plenty of fish but there was little to show on my digital. While Granny and I brought along our rods to do a little fishing, we decided that it was best to leave the good fishing opportunities for Don and Becky. We had some errands to do anyway so we headed back to Victor and they stayed.

Becky, Don and Sierra returned to Victor this evening with big smiles. I knew if we left them on their own they would find a way to outsmart the big cuttys of the South Fork. It turns out that Becky landed several more trout from her pool including one nice one like the one she lost. Don also landed two cutthroats. What made one of Dons catches so rewarding was that one was the first he missed to start the day!

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

Sad Day on the South Fork

The minute I got in the truck with Gary Eckman today on the way to the South Fork he gave me the somber news that a fishing guide drown on the river last night. He told me the few details he heard, one of which was that the guide was from Driggs, Idaho.

It was too early for such information. The whole thing hit me so fast that it took me a few minutes to process. Then like and siren sounding off in my head I realized what the likelihood was that this was a friend. The fishing community in Teton Valley is small and close. Everyone knows everyone and I am friends with most the fishing guides from Driggs, Idaho to Pinedale, Wyoming. Many are fellow employees whom I saw nearly every day for years. They’re like family. I urgently flipped open my phone and made some calls.

I didn’t find out much. I was just glad to hear some voices. I thought perhaps I’d be lucky not to know this person. But when Gary and I got to the South Fork I wasn’t so fortunate. The guide was indeed a friend, not from Driggs but rather Victor.

The friend was Rob Merrill. Rob was a fellow employee at the Jack Dennis Fly Shop and we carpooled from Victor to Jackson Hole Wyoming for several years. The last few years he has managed Three Rivers Ranch Orvis Fly Shop in Driggs. He made a great name for himself with his knowledge of the surrounding waters. Rob was as passionate about fly fishing and teaching others about the sport as anyone I’ve known.

Rob had more than enough experience wading and boating our fantastic fly fishing waters. Unfortunately Wednesday night his boat hit a tree and overturned. While his clients were lucky enough to swim to shore, Rob Merrill was wearing waders and could not. This type of accident can happen to the most qualified boaters but remarkably the possibility rarely crosses our mind.

Gary and I met up with fishing guide Mike Bean of Idaho Falls. Mike is highly regarded as one of the finer guides of the South Fork River. I’d never met Mike before, but I knew that even though I know the South Fork well, there was opportunity to learn a lot more from Mike. But although I should have been excited about this I couldn’t get my mind of Rob.

As we pushed off the Conant Boat Ramp to float the Upper Canyon section, police in jet boats, sheriffs on jet-skis and even a lone helicopter searched the river for Rob. Naturally on every cast I too was looking. Usually I found myself staring aimlessly in the water while other times I prayed to see him on the bank freezing cold just waiting to be rescued. As far as our fishing went, it was decent. I banged up a few nice trout on streamers and once the sun warmed Gary picked off some huge cutthroats with one of Mikes special ant flies. The fishing progressively slowed down and by 2 pm we had trouble catching any fish at all. We noticed that the water level was dropping. It was obvious that the Bureau of Reclamation reduced the flows at the Palisades Dam in order make the search for Rob easier.

Throughout the day Rob’s accident began to sink in. It was a challenging afternoon in many ways. Our fishing was tough while my mind raced with ideas on how Rob could be OK. We did have some high fishing moments. One thing about fish is, when the water drops they panic. But while it seems that most retreat to the deep, some quickly return to the shallows and feast like it’s their last meal. We managed to catch a dozen or so nice cuttys from the riffles on tiny size 20 Pale Morning Duns (PMD’s).

By the time we finished our float, Search and Rescue had retrieved Rob’s drift boat 1 ½ miles downstream of the accident, but there was still no sign of Rob. Deep inside I knew if Rob was alive on the bank he’d of been found by now. I was losing hope. The South Fork is a huge river and there are many pools that are far too deep to see bottom from standing in a boat with polarized glasses. As we left, divers were beginning to help with the search but as of nightfall they had no success. Tomorrow the search will continue.

As for me I’m going to take a fishing break for a few days. This will be a good time to stay around the house and catch up on many things. One of these things will be thinking about Rob Merrill and about life in general. What’s really important and what’s not? This is an accident that could happen to me or anyone reading this. What if? We all walk a fragile line and it’s unfortunate that it takes tragedies such as this for us to realize that.

Go fishing, spend time with family and friends and enjoy as much as you can.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

One Fly Contest Coming Quick

The famous Jackson Hole Wyoming One Fly Contest takes place this year on September 9 – 12. The One Fly is a friendly competition originally designed to extend the fishing business season of Jackson Hole for fishing guides and fly shops. Since the fly fishing boom of the 90’s that’s no longer the purpose of this fun event because anglers hire guides and buy flies year round anyway. What the One Fly does best now is raise money to improve fisheries nationwide.

In any event, it costs a lot of money to enter a four angler team and for that reason few fishing bums like me get to participate as an angler. However last year, Gary Eckman, the Captain of “Good Times” Team and a customer of mine when I worked at the Jack Dennis Sports fly shop, generously invited me on his team at not cost to me. To prepare, we fished together nearly every Friday and became great friends. Luckily, our team did well and I’m glad to say Gary is having me back this year.

Today was our first Friday fishing day of the season. We planned to start back in early July. That was before Gary nearly died of a blood clot after a surgery. He was very fortunate to survive and after six days in intensive care and two weeks in the hospital, today was one of his first days out. It was a special day to say the least.

We went to the South Fork of the Snake River here in Idaho. I’m not a big fan of the South Fork during summer months because of the enormous amount of boat traffic. You will undoubtedly see at least twenty other boats no matter what stretch you fish. But, like all crowded rivers, the South Fork is crowded for a reason – the fishing is spectacular and today was no exception.

Gary picked me up at my house at 8:30 am and we were on our way. It’s a short twenty-five mile drive from my house to the Irwin Slide boat launch. We were drifting down the South Fork before 9:30. Today was warm but by no means sunny. We’ve had thunderstorms nearly every day this week and this morning the sky threatened to deliver the first storm early.

Normally I streamer fish on the South Fork. That’s because it’s usually October or November. In the summertime the best fishing results come by staking out one of the huge riffles the South Fork is famous for and waiting for the Pale Morning Dun hatch to start. Once the hatch starts you can spend hours fishing dry flies to rising cutthroats, rainbows and browns. Today we got in the boat and rowed directly to one of Gary’s favorite riffles. Lucky for us, the only one there was a moose so we shared the place and kicked back and waited for the hatch.

Even when there’s not at hatch, if you watch the shallows closely on the South Fork you’ll see fish. As I gazed into the riffle I quickly spotted two nice cutthroats swerving side to side, obviously feeding on nymphs. After watching them for about ten minutes I tied on an ant pattern to a 12’ 4X Rio leader and made some casts. The two trout ignored my fly but then a rainbow I didn’t see lifted half way to the surface as if to give my fly an inspection. While most anglers continue to cast in such a situation, I like to make the trout wait before he sees my fly again. I don’t want is for the fish to get another good look right away and also, South Fork trout don’t see huge numbers of ants drifting downstream. Two ants drifting by in a row could make any trout very suspicious. So, I relaxed about five minutes then cast again. Immediately the rainbow came up and ate the ant. He was a decent bow of about 16”.

Gary and I caught fish steadily from that point on. I even accidentally snatched a mammoth dragon fly from the air during a false cast. Because of the warm temperatures and overcast skies (we had one thunderstorm) the PMD’s hatched like crazy. I fished one of Vladi's CDC mayflies he designed for fishing his waters in Poland. It’s a fly pattern South Fork trout haven’t seen and therefore it fooled them all day long. In that first riffle alone I landed a dozen or so cutthroats from 13” to 18”’s along with two of the fattest rainbows I've seen this season.

Our day was superb to say the least. The large number of boats and fellow anglers didn’t get to me at all. In fact, we ran into many of my friends that guide the South Fork every day. Most I haven’t seen since the season got busy so that added to an already great day. I guess summer on the South Fork aint so bad after all and I hope to get back next week. Late tonight one of my best friends, Derek Mitchell arrives in town and during coffee in the morning we will plan a two day fishing trip that will begin tomorrow. We are thinking somewhere in the Yellowstone backcountry.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

Granny Puts on a Clinic

July 7, 2010

My legs were a little sore this morning. Granny’s were too that’s why she thought I should hook up the boat and float her down a river. And by the way, get my bike out so I could do an eight mile bike shuttle to start my day. So SHE could rest her legs! Ha!

I pretend to be abused but I love taking my wife down the river and I ride my bike nearly every morning anyhow so at least today I’d have a reason. My tackle is in disarray from my upcoming trip so even though it’s not the set up of choice, I grabbed the already rigged Ross Journey 7 ½ footer that I’ve been using small stream fishing. I packed it in the truck and away we went.

The bike shuttle was a dusty one but there was little wind and overall it was very enjoyable. When I got to Granny she had the boat ready to roll and we pushed off. The river, like most around here is too high to provide good fishing but nonetheless, it would be a nice relaxing float and perhaps we’d find a few hungry fish rising in the dirty water.

Things started very slow. The highlight for the morning was watching a family of magpies. The babies had just left the nest and were fun to watch exploring their new world. At about noon, I actually heard what sounded like a trout sipping a bug. There were some Pale Morning duns on the water. I stared in the direction of the sound and sure enough, the fish sipped again. It was game on.

Granny got a kick out of casting the short rod. It definitely took her a few false casts to adjust, but then she presented her thorax PMD beautifully in the direction of the sipping cutthroat. The way I was holding the boat, we were about fifty feet away so she had to really shake line and feed her fly to the fish. Then, as we hoped, the trout sucked down her fly and downstream he went. Frequently, the more subtle the rise the bigger the fish is. This was a prime example of this. When I first pointed the rise out to Granny she thought it was a little brook trout. I disagreed and when Granny felt the weight of this fish she admitted I was right. A few minutes later I netted a burley Snake River Cutty.

We only saw one more riser today and he turned out to be a rainbow. Granny got him too. He could be one of the best colored up rainbows of the year – truly spectacular! I plan to start painting him today. Most or our rivers are still at least week from coming into their own. When I get home from Europe the fishing should be incredible everywhere.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site