The canal systems of the Phoenix area are complex. They house plenty of fish from largemouth bass to carp and as long as you have a license you can fish in most of them. The ones closed to fishing are well marked or in the case of CAP canals, even gated. But the rest are part of an intricate manmade river system quite unique to a guy like me from Victor, Idaho.
I was really baffled. I didn’t even know what fly to go with. Normally I fish grass carp with dry flies resembling grass. While some anglers sport some pretty fancy grass flies, I have had great success with green, chartreuse and olive foam grass hopper patterns. But conditions looked wrong for dry flies.
We fished our way all the way to the rising grass carp spot. That meant about a mile of walking; crossing a few bridges and dodging speedy cars on a major roadway that made me feel like the frog in Frogger. All along the way we slung our nymphs over many grass carp as well as some commons and some of the local chub and sucker populations. Not one fish specie made an effort to swerve to my nymph. The only action was when a koi rose to my hopper but only nudged it with his nose.
It was obvious when we got to the good water. I looked downstream of the canal and began to see snouts breaking the surface. They were grass carp snouts and they were feeding gently. I grabbed my camera and Cinda snuck below them and then crept into position to cast to them from below. The situation looked easy. Just toss a dry up to them and they’d munch it right? Not! These are grass carp, one of the spookiest of all freshwater fish. Although they tolerate passing bikes, fast walkers and construction trucks, the raising of your casting arm 50 feet away puts them down instantly. After Cinda's first cast it was game over – ten rising grass carp vanished.
That pretty much sums up day one. While Steve was smart enough to kick back, relax and watch, Cinda and I fished relentlessly till dark. We were brutalized by the grassies. I spooked more fish today than I have in my entire life. Schools of carp ran from me and as they ran they spooked the next school and the next and the next. It was the most extreme domino effect of spooking fish I’ve ever seen. Yet remarkably both Cinda and I would end up hooking a fish.
During the afternoon I focused on another group of risers and instead of setting up on them from a 100 feet away, I set up on them some 200 feet upstream. Then I shook out over 70 feet of fly line and crawled down the edge of the canal following my drifting fly. I wasn’t taking any chances of them seeing me or my rod. And by miracle my system worked. I had three grass carp consume my hopper. The bad news however, is that the take of a grass carp and the shape and location of their mouths is not made for a downstream hook set. I watched my fly disappear into the mouth of all three yet when I lifted and set on the first two, my fly, leader and line flew right back in my face. It was so frustrating!
Cinda and I fished as hard as we could. I tried every trick in my book and I’m sure Cinda did too. And we got still got skunked. I can’t think of many fish where the same effort towards the same number of seen fish could end in a skunk. Today was absolutely awesome and it’s going to be hard to sleep tonight. Not because I’m derailed. Not at all. But because I’m pumped to try and solve the grass carp of the canal puzzle tomorrow. Good stuff!
One of my favorite trips to do in late September with friends is an overnight float trip through the canyon of the South Fork of the Snake River. This normally busy river has little traffic, the mahogany duns are hatching and the colors of the changing leaves scattered up the canyon walls is as stunning as it gets. The problem however it that my drift boat only takes three, me as the rower and two friends, so when I have a crew of college buddies like I do this week, the South Fork isn’t feasible – unless we rent another boat. 
Renting a boat isn’t often a smart idea either because rowing the South Fork is about as demanding as float fishing gets. This river cranks out the water flow. This September is especially high flowing at nearly 9000 cfs. Of course, every angler says they can row. And many can row. But honestly, there’s a big difference between rowing lakes and small slow flowing rivers vs. the South Fork. If you don’t know what you’re doing you can get killed out there in a blink of an eye. So before I threw out the idea of renting a raft so all six of us could do the overnighter I really thought it over. 
Mike Birmingham, one of my college pals on this trip, is one of those guys that is good at everything. One night over the campfire I mentioned the South Fork float and quizzed him on his rowing skills. My gut feeling was that he could handle the challenge and when I tossed the idea out he was all about it as were the rest of us. On Monday morning we found ourselves pushing off from the Spring Creek Highway Bridge beginning our 26 mile float trip to Byington on the South Fork of the Snake. 
Although I was confident in Mike, I believe Travis and especially Mark, his passengers were a little uneasy as their fishing raft took off in the heavy current of the South Fork. But Mike was good. He simply floated behind my boat and followed my every move and my advice that I gave him on the drive over. My best piece of advice to him was to avoid danger from afar. Basically, rowers should be looking downstream (rather than staring at their friends fly) and always have that boat pointed towards anything that can wipe you out – rocks, rapids, overhanging trees off the bank, sleepers and strainers. By pointing towards them you can always in an instant begin back rowing away from them. What gets every rower in trouble is not seeing these dangers soon enough and then rather back rowing away from them; they try to push forward and away. Pushing forward to get away often times gets you to the 
danger faster. Most humans are much stronger back rowing rather than forward rowing so spin the boat and back row. After about three hours of following our boat, Mike was rowing excellent and everyone was at ease.
current that the fish actually move more to the inside turns and shallow gravel bars. It didn't take long for Howie and Rieser to become believers as they each pulled fish from literally 8 inches of water. 
slough well out of sight that perhaps that little trickle I saw leave the river might enter. Anywhere there’s current there is usually a fish. So I rowed us up there. Sure enough before we even saw the trickle enter we could hear it. I told Howie a big fish lived in there. I rowed the boat forward and Howie methodically dropped his dry flies in every inch of the in flowing water. Then just where the shallow met the deep, wham! A beautiful cutthroat inhaled Howies fly and soon after I netted a nice 16 incher.
best they could. At 5 PM we settled into a campsite in the upper canyon near the entry of Pine Creek. During cocktail hour we enjoyed watching a group of moose including two huge bulls. They were across the river feeding on willows and silver berry. There is no more velvet on the antlers of the bulls.
I got the boys up early on Tuesday. Sometimes streamers and enormous dry flies can be deadly before noon. We made our coffee and skipped breakfast altogether. As we broke down camp we had a crazy cow moose meander right into us. I say crazy because she gave us the “google” eye with her ears back – something they love to do before they charge you. I was a bit uneasy but she finally moved on out. Then once on the river the fish were biting as expected. 
We had great action for about two hours. Howie and Rieser each landed a handful of nice 14 to 16 inch cutthroats and a scattering of browns and rainbows. By 11 the sun was high and it was hot like a summer day and unfortunately the fishing slowed down miserably. Our boat probably landed less then three fish from 11 till about 3 PM. It was really surprising. Luckily, at about 3 the hatches started and I mean big time. There were pale morning duns, mahogany duns, tricos and a few stoneflies out. Once again the fish returned to feeding on the riffles and even on the slow banks. Howie, who has much less fly fishing experience than Rieser, put on one of his best fly fishing performances of his life. While fishing from the back of the boat he threaded the needle and dropped his flies into nooks and crannies that trout don’t expect a fly to land. The result, Howie beat the heck out fish in the final hours of the trip. I’m not sure if he just drank the perfect number of beers or what, but Howie was in the zone that anglers get in only once in a very rare while.
The highlight wasn’t Howie putting on a clinic however. The highlight was watching Rieser land two brown trout on one cast. Rieser was in the front of the boat fishing two small dry flies. I saw some shallow water towards the middle of the river and suggested he drop a cast over the gravel. His flies drifted along about ten feet then one got eaten. He set the hook and a small brown leaped. He was hooked on his upper fly. Then Rieser said there was another trout chasing the one and acting very strange. After a few days ago when I had that huge trout eat a trout off my line I stood up hoping we were about to have some similar excitement. But this was different. The chasing trout was the same size and he wasn’t chasing the other hooked trout at all. He was chasing the trailing fly. And he got it. “You have a double!” I shouted. 
We woke up to clear skies and the thickest frost I’ve seen in years last Thursday. In fact, remember that wet meal we ate Wednesday night? Our plates were solid ice blocks when we woke up. Even the flies on our rods were frozen popsicles for fish. We had to chip them loose from the rod guides. But the sun was out and things could only get better for the rest of the week.
in one blog, but with more camping and fishing days ahead without internet access its best I get this done tonight. All I can say is these last four days far surpassed my expectations. I simply wanted to show my Midwestern college friends a good time with some reasonable fishing in a gorgeous place. On the very afternoon we arrived at our new camp we had great fishing. This is a camp I’ve stayed at before and it’s absolutely spectacular. It’s right on the river, there are peaks in every direction, the elk are bugling and fish rise all the time. This week was no exception and before we even set up the tents we observed several nice rainbows feeding. Travis of Iowa was first to pursue the risers. He waded right out and on the third cast he hooked and landed one of the nicest trout of his life. It was a thrill not only for Travis, but the rest of us 
enjoyed watching the whole experience unfold before our eyes as we sat in our lawn chairs sipping beers. Fun!
him beached I couldn’t help but stare at how pretty he was. His speckles were amazing to say the least. There were millions of them and they were all over his body including his pectoral fins.
likely a brown but possibly even a monster cutty, ripped him off my fly and ate him. Just seeing this massive trout whirl effortlessly through very fast shallow water and maneuver so easily will leave an impressive little memory in the back of my mind for a long time. What I’ll never forget was that his eyes were as big as nickels and his tail like a broom. He was so focused on stealing my trout off my line it was incredible!
accidentally on purpose! 
overnight trip through the Canyon. Expect a good report as I believe these college buddies have really brought along some fantastic luck!
While I was rapidly stripping in an 8 inch trout that I had on, a huge trout, likely a brown but possibly even a monster cutty, ripped him off my fly and ate him. Just seeing this massive trout whirl effortlessly through very fast shallow water and maneuver so easily will leave an impressive little memory in the back of my mind for a long time. What I’ll never forget was that his eyes were as big as nickels and his tail like a broom. He was so focused on stealing my trout off my line it was incredible!
through my fly boxes in search of some sort of massive streamer. I didn’t have one. My streamer box was nowhere to be found. So instead I put on two huge Polish nymphs and started dredging the run in hopes I’d hook up with him. But no luck. Evidently, once this big guy showed himself in the area, all trout went into hiding. For the rest of the day I found myself doing terrible things like really taking my time to land the all the small trout I hooked and I may have even dangled one through a deep pool accidentally on purpose! 
up and ready for a night on the town. Remember, this is a celebration with college buddies. We graduated from Northland College in Ashland, Wisconsin 25 years ago and we are still great friends. The plan is to search out a big dinner in a warm room under a roof after our four nights of camping in the cold and good bit of rain. Then it’s up early in the morning so we can head to the South Fork of the Snake where we will do an overnight trip through the Canyon. Expect a good report as I believe these college buddies have really brought along some 
fantastic luck! 
Day 2 of the 
It took less than three minutes to land my first fish and an hour later, I had nearly a dozen and Phil had a big fish, a 17” brown that gave him considerable bonus points. Things were going exceptional. What was especially great for us was that morning fishing on the South Fork is considered poor because the hatches don’t start till about 1 PM. So here we were doing well early and the good fishing had yet to start.
Little did I know it, but that spirited rainbow damaged my fly. In the next ten minutes I hooked and lost three more big fish. I hooked them, fought them for about ten seconds and they were off – talk about frustrating. I flipped my fly to my hand to check it and the hook gap was opened slightly. It was from the massive pressure I put on the “not ready to land” rainbow. Not cool, but a situation that happens and you simply bend the hook back. So, I pulled out my forceps and delicately began the procedure and with hardly any pressure at all my hook snapped. My hook snapped! I was finished!
Granny and I just got home from the One Fly celebration party. The One Fly is now officially over. I’m so exhausted I can’t explain it. Competitive fishing is as fun as it gets but it really takes it out of you. And it’s not just the fishing. I get so amped up with the fun of seeing old friends that come to Jackson, Wyoming just once a year for this great event. What a great time. I will work and rest for only a couple days, then on Wednesday my best friends from college arrive for a week of camping and fishing. Stay tuned. . . 
