No Salmonflies, No Problem

Our boats hit the water at Trout Creek around 8:30 in the evening as the sun sank behind the canyon and the hum of caddis amplified. Josh and I were in the drift boat with Alex and our dear friends from Seattle in the raft. There is only one official rule in the Fly Czar rig: sit in the middle of the boat. The unofficial rules include an appreciation for Perdomo cigars, a good stomach for bourbon, and, if there's an opportunity to jump off a rock or ride down Buckskin Mary's outside of the boat, you'd better get a grip and get in the water. I accepted the conditions, and we floated a short way to our first camp. While the boys were occupied with grilling the brats, Anela and I took to the water. In five minutes, she had a lovely trout in her net. With a promising fish omen and full stomachs, we set up our cots and drifted off.

Despite a cold night, none of us died of exposure. We set off in the morning down the river. I am fortunate in that the vast majority of my fishing trips are guided, despite never having bought a guide service in my life. I am lucky to be surrounded by people who have known, loved, and fished this land for years. Josh is surgical in choosing his spots, skipping runs I would have stopped at in order to drop anchor in places that never would have occurred to me. We did well the first day, and Alex's boat did too. We were glad to catch many salmonfly-stuffed fish. We camped at Rainbow Bend that night under a sky full of stars and with noses full of midges.

The next day, we set off toward Harpham Flats. The Josh Linn technique began to set in for me, and I saw far more success on day two. In a single spot, I caught three nice fish, and Josh got at least ten. Our day remained fruitful as we floated on. Alex and the Seattleites did very well, too. The rules on their boat were less precise than the rules on ours, but what I gleaned was that Hot Cheetos and La Croix fueled their successes. Alex had to row hard if he was going to catch Josh, and Jasper and Agates were their currency. We were greeted throughout the day by several exciting critters. Our breakfast was soundtracked by the whinnies of the reservation horses. We were serenaded by red-winged blackbirds, osprey, tanagers, meadowlarks, and a solitary golden eagle. Alex's boat saw a raccoon eat a duck, and Alex had a midstream run-in with a bullsnake. I'm glad to confirm that the Wild West is still as wild as ever.

Despite the salmonflies being few and far between, there were many tan and black caddis, nice little mayflies, a few golden stones, and omnipresent nymphs. A small elk hair or PMD did well, as did low-hanging nymphs. The fish were rising consistently and remained active even when the sun was high in the sky. There was minimal boat and walk-in "competition" now that the salmonflies have subsided, but fewer big bugs doesn't mean fewer nice, healthy fish this time of year! I had a hoot being on Josh's boat. I was thrilled by the quantity and quality of the fish that filled our nets. I had a great time jumping off Monkey Rock and bumping over the rapids with the obligatory Josh cocktail in my cup.

I feel blessed and wealthy. I am grateful for these fish, my friends, this river, and this land. Our lands and rivers are worth preserving, and it's trips like these that fuel my fire to keep fighting for them. I urge you to do the same.