There Isn't Always a Santa Claus

My Christmas morning.  I overslept, but there were already 5 vehicles ahead of me when I pulled into the lot a 6:30am.  I saw nobody in the river.  By 6:55, I was on the bank where I needed to be at the little island.  And there he was, one rise, right where he was supposed to be.  There were no bugs I could see, though the mosquito hatch seems alive and well.  Even the birds were gone except for a few gulls.  Maybe somebody ahead of me had done the dirty work of getting the ducks and geese out of the way.

I get in position at the tip of the island and cast a few times over the sunken log still there and showing in the ankle deep water.  I had a spinner still tied on from the MO yesterday, so I threw it.  He ate it, and just like that, the Ranch is open.  Its all ankle to shin-deep, the whole dam river.  I like that, easy walking. (its not really "wading" when its this shallow)  Two more fish spook and leave wakes as the hooked fish starts running all over the place.  I net it, and that was that for the early morning fishing.  No bugs, no risers.

0830, and here comes the wind.  Its one of the warmest opening mornings I've ever experienced.  Maybe the warmest.  Mid-50's to start.  Warm before the storm, there's snow in the forecast in two-three days.  I wait, and walk, and wait some more until the flag at the Ranch is whipping straight out and white caps cover the river.  I get out intending to go get some breakfast and do something else.  Looking down from the volcanic cliff, I see a sort of flat strip of water 10-15 feet wide and 150 feet long right where the fish like to hold and feed.  I decide to get in and give it a look, just for the hell of it.

Now pushing mid-morning, I spot a pmd here and there.  A spinner floats by every couple-three minutes.  As I get closer to this flatter strip of water, with "diamond" rough water all around it, I see a nose.  Then some nervous water.  Then a couple little rings.  Sure as shit, there's a few fish working in this narrow strip.  I cast between gusts, and get close enough on the foot-deep flat to see the fish.  I hit a few of them, and bring three more Millionaire rainbows to the net, and unbutton another.  I'm finally blown off around 11, and the flat spot is gone.  It's not like last year, when I was the only fisherman on the whole run and fish were up in calm conditions.  Nope, there's no Christmas this year, but I opened the Ranch.  

Dropped right down.  500-ish.  Easy wading. Fun fishing.

New deadfall at the Millionaires overlook

I give you . . . The first fish on the Ranch, or very likely, of the 2024 season. Pretty good lookin' too.

Something about the clacking of the cleats on the asphalt trail that means something.  A little out of place, but part of the experience here.

When Old Glory is straight out and flapping, its not good for fishing.

That little sliver of smooth water is where they were all at!

Just in that one strip of smooth.  I don't know why it was smooth there, and no place else.  The current was the same.  ??

Fine spotted rainbow.

They got little ones here too

When in Last Chance,  . . . 

That's the pine pollen blowing in the background of these two geniuses die-hards.

The pollen was so thick you couldn't see too much past Last Chance

Never tire of this view

The Boxer

Vacation launch.  No bugs in town on the Fork, but plenty of regulars watching and waiting.  No bugs on the Beav. to speak of.  That usually means one thing.  The best trout river in America, of course. 

The week of fishing reminded me of a great journalism professor I had for three years.  Dr. Pearson (he hated that, wanted us all to call him Greg) said feature writing was like a boxing match.  You start out with a big blow, hit 'em hard, and get their attention.  Then you punch and jab your way through the middle. Fight and battle every word, sentence, 'graph, and punctuation mark.  Then at the end you knock 'em out, and the reader says, "I want more!"

Sunday evening was the first punch, a good right hand reach cast.  Cloudy and calm conditions with fish up for several hours, and they weren't even close to picky.  Just enough bugs, just enough heads.  Get something in front of a riser, and it was an eat, every time.  Man, is this gonna be easy, I thought.  

Monday morning I returned to the Lone Tree flat only to find no bugs and very few fish up.  I managed to scratch out a few, then the big wind started about 9am.  I fumbled to some higher less-windy banks upriver and picked up a fish here and a couple there, but it was a struggle.

More big winds were in the forecast most of the week.  Tuesday morning had me at the big island below the pasture at 6am, before the sun came up, and there they were.  That flat was littered with fish, dozens, some rising to midges before the sun came over the tall mountain to the northeast.  I fished that flat for two mornings with constant action and fish to cast to.  The flotilla from the dam usually showed up around 8:30, but most went around on the wider side, and nearly all were gone by 10:30 or so. There still weren't many bugs, so the fish were grateful for a size 14 or 16 anything.  Cover a riser, that was it. The vegetation on the island blocked the wind enough to keep it fishable for both mornings. The afternoons were hot and really windy, and there was no evening fishing I could find.  None.  Zip.  But two pretty good, double-digit mornings on the pig-covered flat.

Wednesday night another dry cold front passed, and I got up at the crack of dawn Thursday, peeked my head out the door, and crawled back under the covers.  I hadn't even considered the furnace in the trailer, so the vent was sealed, and the propane turned off outside.  Let that sun come up.  Finally went downstream to my favorite little island, though I never reached it in 6 or so hours of fishing.  I had pretty constant risers to pmd emergers and spinners nearly the whole time.  Early in the hatch was easy.  Later on, some seemed to be eating the spinner, while others the emerger.  One or the other usually worked, and the soft hackle covered both just in case.

The knockout came on the last morning, Thursday.  I wanted to sort of pre-fish and fine tune for the Ranch opener, so I made it to the slower, flat water inside my favorite island.  Tougher fish.  Fork-like. I could just barely wade to it across the diagonal at 5400, suspenders cinched up tight, on my tip toes, and wet lower pockets in the vest.  But no leak!  It was finally calm, the bugs came, and the fish ate good all morning.  Hatch started at 8:30, but spinners before that.  I was first all the way down the first little channel, and the only one out on the island. Brown town, lots of 'em.  In fact, I caught more browns than rainbows this week.  That hasn't happened in a long time here, if ever.  I have no explanation.  This particular run was just full of them.  I quit at noon to prep, and drive to the Ranch.  The water was coming up daily, and had reached its high for my comfort, but I still wanted more . . . 

See what they did.  I got here on the 9th, left on the 14th at noon.  Perfect timing!!  I knew it was coming up, it always does.  

Arrived to this, calm with risers.

Last fish of the first evening.  

It still works.

Fish rising to midges by the dawns early light.

The first Pasture rainbow.  

You can't see 'em, but there's trout covering this flat.  Dozens of them.  I could see 'em!

Bows as long as my arm below the Pasture.

Browns in the Pasture too.

Tied this little number with one clump of dry fly yarn, plus the body and tail.  Loop wing, spent, crippled somethingorother. It floats, I could see it, and they ate it.  

More from Brown Town

Craven's Mole

Jim's wiggly butt cripple thingy

Jim's Mole variant-Organza body

Browns all over the place

CDC and Organza.  Can't miss.

This first channel always had rising fish 

This spinner was the overall winner

This guy was from the Beaverhead Sunday morning.  

Silver Princes

I've been waiting two years for the right timing and ability to double-haul the 8 weight again in my favorite salty place.  Finally got the chance, and did ok for a 60 year old last chance cripple.  Seven days on the bow of the skiff by myself, assuming all the responsibility of casting to every fish Juan saw at every clock angle imaginable, sometimes all at once if he had his way.  We made four long morning runs up to the wintertime land of plenty, and Juan had me around 'em.  One day stood out among the rest, shooting fish in a barrel, but we worked and hunted hard for the schools the rest of the time.  Reality check.  I booked the week that was available on pretty short notice, so I didn't have the morning low tides I love for Gurgler fishing, but I still got some eats on top.  The rest were still mostly visible.  Shoulders willing, I shall return to make up for some lost time.

The man, the legend.  I let him hold one of my big offshore fish!

Not enough Gurglers, a few too many dumbells, but a nicely rounded selection for the week.  The blacks aren't well represented, but really performed.

The Idaho guys, Dave and Brett, who lit the fire under me last month to book this trip.

The Resturante La Pigua cream of shrimp soup. Light tomato based, with a little cheese and a splash of sherry wine that I've copied at home for years now.  There was plenty of shrimp consumed nightly, and some grilled snook fillets to spice it up.