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.