Codgers

Codgers
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They get together in fly shops
worn and washed up like
driftwood on the banks of
the rivers they've strolled.

They talk of huge stoneflies,
and how they hit the hatch
prime-time perfect one year,
and how big trout went crazy.

Someone says, "It just isn't the same
anymore; not as many bugs,
and the trout are smaller."

Heads nod in agreement
as another voice cracks,
"I remember when..."

Out on a river, migrating nymphs
invade the banks like an alien army.
Split shucks shimmer and dry,

as clumsy adults clamber
up willows and rocks,
trading water for earth, again.

March

I've made it through the two months I dislike, and March is here. Even when it snows in March, I know it will melt soon. We have a lot of snow pack this year so the rivers and streams will be blown out with run-off.

One of my favorite times to fish the small creeks and streams is right after the run-off drops to a reasonable level. The water is still high enough that the larger trout are a little more comfortable in moving around. The water is clear and very fishable a this time. I have my eye on a couple of waters already.

The other thing that is fun to do is fish tail waters below the dams before they start releasing flows. Some very good Blue-winged Olive hatches can be found at this time.

Spring is almost here. Life as I know it will soon awaken. See you outside.

Daydreaming of Summer

That's right, this is a picture of one of my summer fishing trips. Notice the nice lush green grass and short sleeve shirt and shorts. I'm in the daydreaming stage. I can't wait for spring.

 I shoveled about three inches of snow off my driveway this morning, then I went and shoveled two widow's driveways. I just looked outside and it's raining. The winter storm is coming out of the west riding on just enough warm air to keep it from snowing. That could change if the evening cools down enough to produce snow. The mountains are loaded with snow. It's about 130 percent of normal for this year. That will be good for the rivers and streams. A good brisk, run-off will help keep the waters clean and fresh.

As I posted earlier, I will go after some winter whitefish to get me outside and then I will dream of summer like I always do. December 21st, the days will get longer and the sun will start its migration to the north. For now, I will look at some of my summer pictures and remember those nice hot days.

Whitefish Politics

I've made a mental commitment to go out into the winter wonderland of Utah's wild Weber river and wrangle up some whitefish. As soon as I get through the holidays, I'm going. I remember how to nymph fish. Let's see, it was a prince nymph, a split shot, and an indicator; lob this up into the head of a nice deep run, control the drag with a mend or two and when the indicator pauses, set the hook.

I promised a co-worker a few whitefish for dinner. He loves them. Back when I used to fish all winter long, I would take him a limit of whites. The arrangement is that I don't have to do anything but put a limit in a bucket and take them directly to him. He fillets them, coats them with fish Shake-N- Bake, throws them in an oven for a few minutes and then serves. It actually sounds good, although, I have only eaten whitefish smoked.

I know a few areas on the Weber to visit, but my favorite places are on private property and with the "new" law passed by the legislature last session  it will keep me off that water. I had made a deal with the landowner about ten years ago and had verbal permission to enter his property from a public bridge. A couple of inconsiderate fly fishermen ruined my access by blocking his gate with their vehicle one day. He left them a note telling them that he needed to use the gate to haul feed down to his cattle and to please not block it in the future. He told me that he found the note hooked to his gate with a note on the back telling him where he could stick his feed and his cattle using some colorful language. He decided to post his property after that. Even with the ruling to allow access from public easements, I never went back on that property. His stretch of water has some nice whitefish, the biggest I have tangled with on the Weber. It also had nice browns and a few cutthroat.

I will venture out into the waters that are public. I'll be the one with the plastic bucket. Hopefully, I can place a few whities in it for my friend. He keeps hinting about going out with me and learning how to catch them. He's approaching 80 years old, and I don't really see it happening. The smile on his face when I bring him a bucket of whitefish makes me happy. Thinking about him fixing them and eating them makes me smile.

Maybe sometime in the near future the two smiles will be between the private landowners along the rivers and the fishermen who would love to fish the public waters flowing through those properties. First, we have to learn to be civil and charitable human beings, and that goes for both fisherman and landowners.

Burning a Few Hours on the Blacksmith



Mark with little brownie.




Matt studying a section of water.








Blacksmith Fork is loaded with little brown trout.



Simple Pleasure: An Autumn Day on a River



Trying out Mark's polarized sunglasses.



Mark was catching cutts like this all day.



Boulder strewn water. Picking the pockets.



Another colorful Bonneville cutthroat.



This was the only brown of the day. I watched it take a Green Drake and then offered it a hopper. It went airborn, landed and then off to the races. Very wild!



Mark took this one with an excellent cast under overhanging willows.



This was my last cutt. Nice way to end an enjoyable afternoon.



Some fly fishermen get so good they catch them with their eyes closed!



Sweet!



Nice and handsome.





DAZED on the GREY"S



Working some nice water.



I loved the blue tint to the Grey's River water. I glanced at it frequently as we (my wife and me) drove up the dirt road that paralleled it. Mountainsides loaded with pine forests rose on each side of the canyon. This is my kind of place; my kind of water. A fly fisherman with some experience will know what water looks fishy. This water does. I was excited to get to a place and give it a try. I was patient and drove for about 25 or 30 miles before pulling over to fish. The water looked so pure and clean. I was sure if I looked hard I would spot fish. The first hole I fished was a deep plunge pool that ran out into a nice choppy riffle and then a glide of very smooth water. I could spot no fish in the smooth water and quickly moved up into the deeper riffle. I place the hopper right on the seam where the faster water met the slow water on the deep edge of the run. There had to be trout holding along the seam. It was a prime area. Several casts without a look moved me up to the head of the plunge. Maybe the trout were holding behind the rocks. Nothing. I stood to the side of the plunge and cast above the rocks and into the next run. Sometimes the trout will hold in front of the rocks. It's a place that creates a break from the current and a place where trout like to hold. Again, nothing. I was taught that when the fishing is slow, I should move fast, and if the fishing is fast, I should move slow. So far, the fishing was slow so I started to move fast. I cast into some very fishy looking runs and came up with nothing. As I moved, I looked for signs of spooked fish and saw none. I was beginning to be a little disappointed. I mean, this was nice looking water.



Small, beautiful Snake River cutthroat.



I loved the look and color of this water.



This looked like a Bonneville cutthroat?



After a frustrating first hour of fishing and not seeing any sign of fish, I drove upstream to another likely spot. I walked down river and fished back up to the car. I saw one fish about 10 inches that slashed at my fly behind a large rock. This was nice looking water too. In my mind, I began to think of my familiar "home" waters and how I would have had several fish by now. What is so different about this water than the water closer to home? If it wasn't for the surrounding beauty and the company of my wife, I might have gone from frustrated to angry. In my younger years I think I would have been red in the face by now, but I have learned to enjoy my fly fishing for other reasons than just nailing a bunch of fish. Still, catching fish is high on the list for having a successful adventure. Reports from other anglers had led me to this river. What was I doing different than them? Maybe I needed to fish subsurface? I really wanted to get them on a hopper. Hoppers where in the area. The cutthroat trout should be all over a hopper.

I decided to migrate back down river and hit some spots on the way out. We pulled into a vacant campground and I dropped down over a high bank and into the river. I fished about four nice holes with nothing. I was stinking the place up. One the near bank was a downed pine tree that looked like it had been in the water for a couple of years. I cast up along the edge of it and just before the hopper reached the side of the sunken pine a trout flashed out quick and took the fly. It was a decent fish, strong, and full of fight. I worked it to the river's edge and estimated it at 14 maybe 15 inches. Finally a Snake River fine-spotted cutthroat trout!

I never caught another trout in that area and again we drove down river and to a new area. The next area proved to be a success. I caught several trout but nothing as nice as the first fish. Most of the fish in this are measured 8 to 12 inches. Not as impressive as I had expected or wanted. I wanted to fish the Little Grey's River so we drove down to it's confluence with the main Grey's. It was small water and I was able to catch a trout or two in each hole and run. The little cutts were aggressive and catching them in the small water was easy.

We had some places we wanted to visit in Afton and Osmond, Wyoming before it got dark so we left the Grey's and headed for town. After visiting a cemetery and looking at a great grandfather's grave. We drove up a small dirt road that led out of town and stumbled upon a small creek. "That creek looks fishy," I told my wife. "Well, we are here and you have your gear, see if there are fish in it," she replied. I don't have to get permission twice. I was pulled over and casting in minutes. I stood on the road and cast into some nice pools. The third pool rewarded me with a plump cutthroat. I moved to another hole and again caught a healthy looking cutthroat. These were nice fish for the size of the water and it quickly brought a smile to my face. I watched as several  fish fed in a smooth run taking emerging caddis flies. I couldn't reach them from where I was and didn't want to get wet or put on waders so I let them be. Those two trout satisfied my curiosity and because they were fine-spotted Snake River cutts made the feeling of satisfaction even better.



A pleasant surprise!



Nice, little trout from this creek.



Yes, that is a very satisfied look on my face.



I could catch trout like this all day.





The small creek was a nice end to a good day. I thought about hitting the Salt River and Salt creek on the way out of Star Valley but decided to get back to Montpelier, Idaho for dinner and then back to the summer home at Bear Lake. Even though the fishing wasn't what I wanted or expected, the overall experience, scenery, and time spent with my wife made for good memories. My pleasures are simple.



Young, bull moose checking us out.



This was the best trout of the day. Nothing to write home about but nice for a blog.