June of 2015, seven years ago, I laid eyes on the disaster known as the "restoration." One of the best little slow, meandering, bug-filled dry fly creeks anywhere got turned into a bobber ditch. I've been stopping by for a look, sometimes fishing a few bends, once a year or so ever since. In the last couple of seasons, I pretty much wrote it off. Cried it away. Well now it looks like there's suddenly some hope. There's certainly some big fish in the old stomping grounds! Today is a day I'll always remember. July 15, 2022. This will serve as a reminder. A birthday of sorts. A creek re-born, at least for me.
I'm nearing the end of this not-so-epic early summer trip. No fantasy fishing to speak of. A day on Armstrongs, and some moments here and there. Wrong river at the wrong time a lot. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. Nowhere near at my best. Norman has saved the trip. So late yesterday afternoon, I pointed for home from the Idaho panhandle region. I went there from the MO for the cool, the shade, the beauty, the crystal clear water, and to meet a friend. All were quickly accomplished, and no place was tugging at me. The MO always does, but I had just been there and its scorching hot. The fishing for me wasn't, despite a lot of bugs. The Fork was rumored to be fishing great, but then they raised it to 1,500. Nope. Already did 8 days on the creeks. Everything else is just fishing, and walking, or crowded, or bushwhacking.
As I was flying eastbound across I-90 after spending the night at Warm Springs on the Clark Fork (didn't even fish it), I didn't know whether I'd turn south on 15 or keep going east in search of something like the Madison or a Livingston opening next week. The Beaverhead at 500cfs with a look at the slough? At the very last second, literally, I turned right and said I'd give 'em a look this morning, then head south for home if nothing looked good. Home is a straight shot, more or less, all interstate except the last 60 miles.
When I took the exit, circled around, and pulled into the familiar lot around 8:30, there wasn't a single vehicle. It was overcast with showers very likely. A time to take a cool walk up the ditch. There weren't any bugs, so I decided to tie on my fish-finder and see if anything was around. Up a couple of bends, I had a couple tugs. Hmmm. Next bend, I caught a 13 incher. Well, at least there's something in there.
One more bend up, where the little spring creek flows in to the ditch, I let 'er swing and the take was different. So was the pull. A real one. A real real one! Now, I didn't even take a net, rain gear, put on sunscreen, or even wear a hooded shirt because I didn't figure I'd be out very long. Now I have the best fish on I've seen in two weeks. I got lucky and the hook was in there. I hand-landed the 20" fish. It wasn't on a dry fly, but it was the one that would make me fish the whole creek up over the tracks and beyond before the first thunderstorm. It was the shot in the arm, and head, that I desperately needed. There were some other, more regular sized catches, and some missed grabs. I even saw a couple of smaller fish rise, and a few pmd's in the air and on the water.
The grass along the creek is growing high and thick. There are weeds. There is mud. And finally, after a 7 year wait, there are some fish worth casting to. After the first thunderstorm, I returned for a round of pmd fishing. It didn't disappoint. There were fish that had moved from the holes up onto the shallow flats and into the riffles at the heads of the pools. The rise forms were hard to see. I had to really pay attention for nervous water and quick disturbances. There were no rings of the rise. The creek moves faster now, and its surface is more textured. I had sizeable fish to cast to for a couple hours though, and was almost in disbelief. It was surprise, relief, and euphoria all rolled into one.
A second lightning-filled downpour sent me to check on Norman and a quick run to town for ice. It flooded the parking lot. After that one, there was an evening session with a few more fish up. They really didn't get on the spinners at dusk for some reason, but there were targets up until then.
Whether this was just a fluke cloudy day late in the waning pmd season, or a pattern for the next few days, time will tell. But the fish are there, and some nice ones. I saw one earlier in the day chasing a frog, or lizard, or something a few inches long across a pool. At first I thought it was a muskrat. Nope, it was a big ass trout. I tied on a gurgler style leech and skated it where I last saw the fish, and got the take! Never felt the fish or the hook making contact. Fuck. I did get other fish on pmd's though.
The mole. PhD. CDC emerger. Spinner. Cahill. I got ate on every kind of pmd I tried, but none stood out. The fish are still kinda picky, even in the fast water. Presentation had to be dead-on. Downstream worked better than upstream. The cross currents make the Henry's Fork seem easy. The drifts are all short in every direction, regardless of tippet length and the messiest of pile casts. Its nowhere near the same place yet, and probably won't be in my lifetime.
Wow. Listen to all this. Fishing on the slough again. Hallefuckinglujah! I hope I can put this back on the route again. Anticipate it. Love it. I've missed the place. Today was like getting an old friend back, one I had so many great memories of. One I lost to the destructive actions of others. One I grew to love over so many years. Good to see you again old friend. This will probably make the trip.
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| Not on a dry, but the one that counted and got me walking. |
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| That's a dry fly fish |
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| PhD |
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| Pig ate the mole! |
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| Downpour |
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