Torrents of Spring

I don't remember shoveling a lot of snow this past winter, yet the Utah mountains received over 150 percent of normal snowpack. Most of it is still in the mountains. Spring storms were cold enough to add to the snowpack when in most years April is when it starts to melt. Rain showers through much of March and April have brought the rivers to flood stage. Rivers like the Blacksmith Fork are at flood stage naturally, while others are experiencing high waters from frantic releases from reservoirs.

This wet season has taken away many of my early season fishing adventures. The peaceful slow flows and warm afternoons have been replaced with turbulent, off color flows, and wind and wet. The opportunity to fish one of my favorite early season hatches, the baetis or Blue-winged Olive, is gone. Missing this hatch and not being able to get near the water has added to the feeling of cabin fever. The few times the weather has been good enough for me to get in the yard and mow the lawn, or piddle in the garden, are not much of a cure.

I'm hoping the sun comes out. I'm hoping for some heat. I know that's not the scenario those who live along the rivers want, but I do. I want to get that snow out of the mountains. I want the run-off to blow out and then subside so I can fish. My plan is to hit some of the small creeks right after they drop from peaking. At the right time, they will be very fishable, and the water will be high enough that the larger trout might just come out to play. That's the plan. Until then, I'm going to try to enjoy the other outdoor opportunities the second driest state has to offer.

Codgers

Codgers
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.