My Saturday hike and fish was a success. Finally a day without thunderstorms, wind and rain. I must admit that hiking in alone and bushwacking, wet wading, slipping on the rocks, and wondering about lions, tigers and bears is weighing on my mind more the older I get. Here I was, however, 3 miles in on a creek with perfect flows, clarity, and numbers of pan-sized trout.
I don't think it would matter what fly is used. These fish as far as I can tell don't see a lot of pressure. They are easily spooked, but are not particular about the food they eat. I used a cicada pattern: black foam body, elk hair wing, orange foam head, and black rubber legs, tied on a size 12 Tiemco 5212 hook.
As stated in a previous post, I went to not only get out of town and into some wild country, but to also bring home dinner. I also wanted to see what type of trout I would catch and if any of them were rainbow/cuthroat hybrids (cuttbows). All fish caught were rainbows with the exception of two. One was a pure cutthroat and one was a cuttbow. This surprised me to a degree. It seems like last year when I went into this area, I caught more cutthroat. I didn't keep an accurate count but in the three hours I was fishing, I brought about fifteen or twenty fish to hand and missed hooking about ten or so. Most of the fish were in the eight to ten inch range with four or five pushing twelve or thirteen inches. I had a small pack on my back which I carried a frozen water bottle. When I was ready to leave, I cleaned the fish and put them in a palstic bag and placed it in the pack with the frozen water. The fish were then taken home, cooked and eaten. They were fresh and good. I offered to share them with my family and they declined. My family usually loves fish so it was a bit of a shock when they didn't want to share in the feast.
When I hike into and out of these areas, my mind almost always wanders. I think about the history of the area. I wonder about the early inhabitants of the area. I dream about being more knowledgeable about the plants, trees, and wildlife. I listen to the birds sing and only recognize a couple of the songs. Again, I think to myself, that I need to learn more. The view coming out was nice. Looking out through the opening of the canyon I could see part of the small mountain valley below and the backdrop of tall peaks with just a few specks of snow left in the highest cirques. My last thought was that I probably will not return to this water again this year. I give it one trip a year. Time to move to other waters that seem to call to me---come here and seek my trout, soul of streams!