Hello Again

Made it.  Vicious head winds most of the way from Dillon.  Greeted by more high winds and increasing clouds, just ahead of the winter cold front.  Just rain down here, a light dusting of snow overnight on the Sawtooth peaks.  Really cold air was behind the precipitation.  Just fished a couple hours below Purdy's yesterday.  All afternoon today on the Preserve.

Fished here behind the cold front.   A little protected from the blow, and convenient.

There were some toads in here.

And a few in here.

I got one of 'em

It's 11am, frost still on the shaded grass where the sun's rays are blocked by the frosted trees in the near-empty campground.  I can feel warmth in the trailer, where it reads 68 with the furnace on low, as its been all night.

Fog still lingers in the valley.  I bring in my frozen solid waders and wading shoes to soften in front of the furnace.  The sun is out, and soon I'll be able to see the trout, and they'll see me.  Just how its supposed to be.  Silver Creek at its finest.

12:30, and I'm in the water with fish just starting to rise.  I didn't see any rising on the walk in.

Mostly bluebird, but with an occasional little gusty period and some clouds coming and going.

This was the peak of the hatch, 99 percent bwo with a stray mahogany.

They're good lookin' little fellers.

It worked for a bit.

It worked better

This was a first caster.  I burned an hour and a half trying to get a bigger one to eat on the bank behind me here.  Never did eat my fly, but rose head-tail probably 50 times right in my face.  I saw it take some duns.  Not mine.  Maybe tomorrow.

Still come leaves hanging on, even after gusts to 40 before the front.

Stopover

Heading south, I stopped near dark outside of Dillon and camped at Norman's favorite roadside park, and a river runs through it.  It looked weird, seeing the river channel here instead of a backed-up pond.  There were fish rising in the slow pools last month.  When they shut off the diversion for the season, I guess this is what happens. I gave it a couple hours before the wind started ripping and it was time to shower, DQ, and head on down the road. Another "see you next summer" stop.

Hey, I actually caught one.  A smoker too. Saw a couple others, and had a couple more eats.

Change

The winds of change are a howlin' this morning.  I hooked up the trailer, waved a sad goodbye to Pelican, and headed for the big turnout at Lonetree.  I know exactly where some trout live here, intimately, and how to approach for the perfect cast.  I can sight fish without seeing 'em.  The warm wind blows from the south, downstream and slightly off my right casting arm with the current running left to right.   That works, as its parallel to the current and assists most casts.  I'm here for those big ones I see and spook when its sunny and calm.  Early, its still shady here, and the surface is intermittently diamond plated from the gusts.  I can make a very long cast to deliver an unweighted leech with the 5 weight between the strong gusts.  I'm the only one here, and there's hardly a car going by on the normally busy frontage road.  I see a one-time splashy riser here and there, and have no idea what they're chasing after.  Fish are active, like the wind.

With the drop in temperatures and almost certain clouds and precipitation, the fishing will likely just get better and better.  Maybe some heavy hatches.  A jump into high gear.  I've had my run though, and have loved fishing comfortably in summer attire. I milked the last 70-degree day.  I'm moving on today, but with wet waders, stretched line, some weeds in my net, and fish slime on my dried cracked hands.  I brought seven chunky Montana steelhead to those hands on this last day, and had eats from more than that many, all in two 50 yard stretches separated by the island.  As I finish up, the clouds increase and the light dims for the first time in weeks. I feel the temperature drop just a bit, yet it's 1:30 pm. It feels a little like what the world coming to an end might be like, my world anyway, but its simply the end of the endless summer, and the end of my time on the best trout river I know of. 

Looking south at sunrise

I'll miss this view out the trailer window

Blowin' at the 'Tree, but a little protected on the road side

Early fish, still in the shadows, are not too spooky

It really bends with 2X.  They still get to the backing.

Clouds aren't normally a photo op, but I haven't seen any in over a week.

The place to myself

Brunch in the wind

Gusts kept rolling downstream

Montana Steelhead

Last walk down this trail until next summer

Gale force and gray, let's get the hell outta here before you change your mind.

Endless Summer

Cruise control.  The days, the fishing, the life.  I've grown accustomed to my little 15 minute morning commute to the chosen fishing grounds.  A few minutes south and over the first bridge at Sheep Creek, eyeing the river where I've fished a couple times both above and below lately, the little island showing above Tower Rock on river right.  A few more minutes and miles, and the canyon opens up a bit as I cross two more bridges near the tiny development of Dearborn, a place I'd live.  Over a little knob and down to the next bridge where the river of the same name comes in, then following the long flat glide up to Stickney.  I need to fish those two mid-river islands at Stickney.

Another couple of bends and "high bridge" gets the juices pumping as I stare at the classic runs to both sides, checking the parking areas for any intruders . . . er, fellow fishermen.  One more little hill, a two-second look at the Ladders parking area as I whizz by, then the Craig exit around the bend finishes the interstate portion of my commute.  I've maybe seen 5 or 6 cars.

When the Ladders is empty, there's often a quick U-turn right there.  Otherwise, 5 minutes up or down river  from Craig puts me just about anywhere I want to be.  Its been quiet everywhere as of late.  If there's more than one vehicle parked, there's none at the next spot.  Things have pretty much reached epic status now.  I know I keep harping on it, but the low water and 70 degree days just make for very special conditions that we don't see every year.  I can wade to every little island and every little side channel for the ultimate in sight fishing.  

Each little spot in a run has its own nuance, its own preferred approach, and its own memories.  All the spots now have soft fish-landing zones.  Every island, point, and turn or indentation in the river bank.  The flows bring everything together that turn a big river into a little dry fly paradise.  I haven't mentioned the weeds.  Yes, there's some floating down, but not a bother.  I've seen it far worse in October.

This week, I fish wets for a bit in the morning, and blue-wings all afternoon.  The colors are at their absolute peak.  Wind is minimal to non-existent until today.  There's finally, truly, somethin' comin' called late Fall, or Winter as I call it.  So it'll end, but this dream seemed endless.  Today is day 12 here by my count, and I've fished 'em all.

Home

Precarious parking with semi's and cars flying past at 70 and 80 mph.

Once over the ladder, it gets quieter with every step

That view before the descent

It's worth many looks

The fish here see you coming, but its always fun to see them back.  You ain't gonna catch one at these flows.

Some mornings the hatch is in progress.  Pick a bwo and get to work.

On windy mornings there's been a protected slot in the middle with risers.

Glass calm on the next channel down.

Even got a couple of fish on this one all powdered up and dry.  Size 10!

When this one is calm, you can spot every fish.

A size 12 swinger

The 'ole glory hole.

So much good water

I shoot this tree every year.  It just shines at you all along a shallow 100-yard long run of the main river teeming with fish.

Took a day to walk down to this one, only to have the wind come up.  Wets to the rescue.

Just above Stickney