Fish of a Different Color

I am always amazed at the variety of patterns and colors on trout. I am even more impressed when a fish decides to break with the norm and take on some colors of their own. A typical Utah Rainbow Trout varies in shades of green and silver, whereas a Brown Trout varies in shades of browns and greens.

One of my recent trips out fishing a stream that is primarily a Rainbow trout stream, with the occasional Brown trout mixed in,  I could see a tail jutting out from behind a rock, lazily fanning the water. It took me a few casts to get the fish to take a fly, but I managed. My first glimpse of the fish was a yellow streak shooting out toward deeper water. I was certain I had hooked into a Brown. Imagine my surprise when I land the fish and see that it was a Rainbow wearing the wrong colors.

One of the prettier Rainbows I’ve caught, it had the right markings, but the colors similar to that of a Brown. Is there a reason for the color change? Maybe in today’s society, the poor thing was having an identity crisis. Do I care much? Only enough to share the pictures. Out of the dozen or so fish caught that afternoon, this is the only one that got a snapshot. Hats off to Mother Nature for keeping things interesting.

Fishing a Small Stream in the Fall

With winter being in full swing, I look back on my fall and summer exploits, picking out the days that really stand out as great days spent fishing. In my case, pretty much every fishing day is a great day. However, there are always ones that seem to stand out. One such day didn’t even start out as a fishing day. I was on a job site that happened to be next to a small stream. When I was finished penciling an estimate for the customer, I asked about the stream and what kind of fishing was to be had. What he said nearly struck me dumb.

“I have no idea,” he said. “I don’t even know if there’s fish in there.”

What? No idea? It was like he was suddenly speaking a different language. I felt very much the wizard talking to a muggle about cars vs. flu powder. We were just not on the same page. My priorities, being what they are could not allow me to leave his property without doing a little recon for future reference. As it was a sunny day, I walked the banks looking into the eddies and slack water trying to spot some sign of life. The beauty of the river soon captivated me and for a time I forgot the fish and stood still. A gentle, but firm, breeze stirred the treetops raining down the yellowed leaves of the fall Quakies.

And what about the fish, you may ask. Of course there were fish. And of course, I managed to catch a few in the short time that I had. I also was smart enough to snag a personal permission slip to fish the property anytime I wanted. To look at him, he seemed to have no idea why I would want to do such a thing. To each his own, right? Fishing aside, I keep looking at the video and pictures and hope that winter leaves in a hurry so I can get back to doing what I love.

My 5 Tools For Successful Day On The Water.

Most of us carry an obscene amount of tackle when we go fishing. As we have all experienced, the fish don’t always behave in the manner we are expecting so it’s essential to be prepared for this. However, regardless of the conditions, there are 5 things I never fish without.

Nothing screams ‘good fishing’ like a trout stream in the warm summer months. A fly rod should be used in accordance with the type of fishing one is doing. My ideal water is a small stream. For this I rely on my 7’6” Redington Classic Trout 4pc, 4wt fly rod loaded with Cortland Fairplay floating line, mint green in weight forward floating. Why you ask? Small streams are abundant in Southern Utah making a lighter rod ideal. The Classic Trout offers the backbone of a heavier rod with a light action tip to finesse the small trout from their rests.

When fly fishing, mid-summer months are the opportune time for topwater bites. Nothing will excite an angler more than watching a fish break the surface after a fly or bait. It’s necessary then to carry my Caddis fly box loaded with several dry fly patterns such as Stimulators, Hoppers, Elk Hair Caddis, and Adams generally tied on a Mustad standard dry fly hook sizes 18 to 10.

As the day warms and the sun beats down, the fish tend to tuck under the banks and behind submerged rocks and trees looking for some protection from predators and the heat. For this reason, I like to use a dry fly, wet fly combination, aka a dry and a dropper. For this I carry another fly box full of wet flies and nymphs like a Gold Bead Head Prince nymph and Pheasant tail nymphs tied on standard Mustad wet fly hooks, ranging in size from 18 to 14. To round out my arsenal I also have some small Zebra Midge patterns tied in various colors tied as small as 24. The idea behind the dry, dropper combo is to still take advantage of the surface bite, and to entice other fish that have taken refuge from the sun, invariably upping the odds of catching fish.

A spool of 6lb Lost Creek Freshwater tippet in 5x. The heavier pound line is overkill at times on smaller fish, but it can save a wayward fly stuck in a tree more often that using the lighter poundage. And if any of you have fished small streams, you know that trees and other foliage are always hungry for a mis-cast fly. Over the years I have tried an assortment of different leaders and tippets and found this size to be a perfect balance of finesse and strength for almost any condition.

A good sharp, pair of nippers are an essential part of my fishing. Conditions on the water are constantly changing as the day moves on. Adaptability is key in successful fishing. In fly fishing, this means a constant changing of flies, whether it be different styles or different sizes. Sharp nippers are key in getting clean cuts and faster turnaround time getting the new fly back to the water. Nippers don’t need to be brand specific to get the job done. I have had the same success using dollar store clippers as I have spending upwards of five dollars a pair. What does matter is replacing or sharpening them when they become dull or chipped.

Lastly, no fishing ensemble is complete without a good pair of polarized sunglasses. The same with polarized glasses, being brand specific is more of a personal choice. I have had 100-dollar Oakley’s from Cabalas that were no different than the 20-dollar Strike King’s from Walmart. More important is the fit. Polarization reduces glare from the water making it easier to track your fly, but also gives the ability to site fish on many occasions. I’ve never known an angler who didn’t like to sight fish.

These five items together give me the best chance for success on any water. If there were room for a sixth item, it would be to always take along a good fishing buddy. Doesn’t matter if that’s your favorite dog or neighbor. It’s just nice to have someone else to compare fishing stories with. My advice…take the dog. At least the dog won’t call you out for being a liar.

 

The Little Things That Count

Sometimes things don’t always go according to plan. For weeks we had been planning a family campout. It’s fall, so we expected the weather to be chilly so we chose a place in the valley, yet close enough it still mimicked the mountains. I was personally stoked. It had been a busy year and I was looking forward to some R&R. I realize that putting relaxing and family in the category of R&R might seem a little self-contradictory, but love’em or leave’em, my family is my life.

I just happened that Mother Nature planned a hurricane that same weekend. Well, the only thing to do was to share space and hope we didn’t step on each other’s toes. The weekend was cold. And of course, it was a constant barrage of rainstorms and low lying clouds that kept us in a constant state of damp. What could we do but make the best of it? The family gathered under canopies and umbrellas as close to the fire as was possible. Although the weather was poor, it didn’t stop us from having a good time. Pork and beef roasted in the dutch ovens, crisp fried bacon, and eggs on the hot griddle and ice cold Mountain Dew to wash it down.

During a small break in the rain, I busted out the fly rod to take advantage of the small respite. A small stream trickled through the campground with some planted Rainbows and some wild German Browns. I was rewarded with one of the best half hours of fishing I’ve had this year. The rain had pushed plenty of food into the river and the fish knew it. I cleaned up, catching several of each using a size 16 Elk Hair Caddis on the surface. The last fish I caught I decided to take a picture so I would have my necessary bragging rights. Without a doubt, one of the smallest, but prettiest fish of the year. 

It’s important to take stock of the small things in life that really matter. Too often we get so caught up in the struggles of life that they threaten to overtake us, burying us in stress and unhappiness. Every once in a while, you need to get out of that mindset and remember what brings you joy. And it never hurts to get out and do a little fishing.

Kindred Fly Fishers

Let’s face it folks, I’m not a people person, and most of the time I am downright grumpy if I have to deal. However, a day out fishing seems to curb my angst and prejudices, for there is always the chance there may be someone out there just like me. For everyone else’s sake I hope not, but similar to me, society can probably manage that. Here’s a “for instance” for you. I met a guy through work that loved to fish. For now, and probably hereafter, we’ll call him Tony. Tony loved to fish so much that he would travel from Arizona to Utah every 4 to 6 weeks, just to fish. Every time he would make one of these trips, he and I would spend a few minutes telling our most recent fish stories and then go our separate ways. Him being an avid fly-fisher, and me being a “never turn down a fishing trip” fisher…it was destined that at some point he and I would end up fishing together. On his last visit, I suggested we do just that. Although we were both familiar with and fished many of the same waters, I wanted to show him some new country.

We put tires to pavement as the sun was creeping over the horizon, our destination, a couple bigger reservoirs at the top of 12 Mile Canyon. There were two purposes for this trip. One was obviously the fishing. The other was to show him some parts of the country that hold some meaning for me. It was a long, slow ride—the washboard road determined to rattle some sense into us. Once into the Quaking Aspens and the sprawling mountain meadows, the true beauty of the canyon began to unfold. Each little lake we passed, every off-shoot of a road, had a story to go with it. Some of these I shared, some I kept for another time. As we crested the Skyline Drive we pulled over for a chance to take in the view. Sitting as we were, we could look to either side and see the vastness of the Utah mountains. To the west, far below, lay a patchwork of farms and townships. A hundred miles to the east, the great plateaus of the San Rafael Swell. A few quick pictures and we were soon winding down the steep dugway into Ferron valley.

Our goal was to head straight to Duckfork reservoir, but the calm water of Ferron reservoir and the dimples of rising fish gave us reason to pause. Between us, we figured we might as well make a cast or two, so at least we can say we did. Ferron reservoir was once home to some trophy Cutthroat trout. Several years passed the reservoir was illegally stocked with Brook trout which tend to thrive in alpine lakes. This lake being no exception, the Brook trout flourished and all but starved out the other fish. Although there are still big Cutthroat stalking the deeps, they aren’t as abundant as they once were. We did end up hooking into some decent Brookies varying from twelve to fifteen inches, and some smaller Rainbows and Cutthroat. The catch of the day, at least for that lake, was a three-pound monster that took us both by surprise. A hefty, football-shaped Rainbow that gave Tony a good run for his money. After that big boy, we figured we’d done enough damage at Ferron and struck out for Duckfork for the promise of large Tiger trout and Cutthroat. Plus, the additional bonus of fishing the small stream that flowed from the base of the dam and offered a great opportunity for some dry fly action.

The reservoir didn’t disappoint. The bite was a bit slower due to the hot weather keeping the fish in deeper water. There were still enough sixteen-inch trout cruising the shallows to get the blood pressure up. I warned Tony on the way up that the fishing at Duckfork is work, but every fish is a potential trophy. Therefore, it was no surprise that the bite was hit and miss. When we did catch them, each fish was more beautiful than the one previous. We hit several fish, but it was slow. We decided to go try our luck at the river. That was the big downer of the day. According to a sign posted, the Utah DWR decided, for reasons unknown to me, that the river needed to be killed off. Needless to say, we were both disappointed. That, however, is a rant best saved for another time. No river, and slow lake fishing, we made the move back to Ferron. Every decision we make in life has the result of being good, or bad. This decision ended up being spectacular.

When we left Ferron earlier the fishing had slowed. That was not the case anymore. Tony found the spot and began to haul out hefty Brookies with every few casts.  Big fat fish decorated with the intense reds and oranges of their spawning colors. He finished out the day in style, catching more fish than could be counted. On the drive home, we recanted the story of each catch, reliving the moments before we were forced back into the realms of the civilized world. The sun was just setting as we pulled into the hotel where he was staying. We bid our farewells, both of us making promises of another trip in the near future.

So, back to where this little foray into my brain started, Tony and I may not be alike in all things, but when it comes to the love of fly fishing…we are indeed kindred.

Discovering The Past

I love to fish, as you already know, but sometimes I take a break from my normal routine just to change it up a bit. My brother and I took an afternoon to go looking for the fossilized remains of plants and fish. Hop, skip, and a jump from my front door we set out into the foothills without a clue what to look for. Over the years I have discovered that this is the way of the rockhound; spending a few hours with your eyes to the ground in the hopes of finding treasure from the past.

Well, we didn’t find any fossils of fish or plants. What we did find was, in itself, amazing. My brother called me over to look at a small patch of ground that was littered with chippings left over from the Paiute Indian tribes that once thrived in the area.

Notice the white flakes or chippings. 

Although the first documented contact with explorers didn’t occur until the mid-1700’s, research shows that the  Paiute lived in the Great Basin region covering Nevada, California, and Utah as early as 1000 A.D. Therefore, it was no surprise to find evidence of their presence in the area.

We scoured the small patch of land for an hour and found a few small treasures. The broken arrowhead on the left is a known Paiute design recognizable by the notches cut at the base used to secure it to the shaft of an arrow. The point on the right we weren’t sure if it was from an arrowhead, a spearhead, or a different type of cutting tool.

 

The bigger stone below is referred to as a hammerstone. This is one of the stones used to knock smaller flakes off a rock so it could be later used as an arrowhead or another edged blade. Just as with the arrowheads, you can see where this hammerstone has been chipped and worn from repeated use.

Plans are already in the works for a return trip. Discovering these pieces of history is one of the many reasons I have for venturing outdoors.