West '05 Trip - Day 8

Posted: 2006-02-11
By: Randy Cochran

For only the second time in 8 days I had made camp. You know, the whole 'put up tent, unroll sleeping bag, inflate air mattress, cook hot food' thing. It made me feel like I got a lot more done during the day. Somehow, even while spending less time fishing, it seemed like the day was vastly more enjoyable when at least a tiny bit of creature comforts were afforded.

I didn't spend too much time patting myself on the back though... one of my tires was very low and needed immediate attention at that point. So I killed 2 birds with 1 stone and got gas, ice, breakfast (a blueberry muffin and coffee) and air in all tires. And with that taken care of, I was free to fish.

Driving South down 93, I passed many good looking waters on my way over the Swan/Clearwater divide. My vision was tunnelled, myopic. I had to make it to the Blackfoot as soon as possible. Even thoughts of Kokanee Salmon (a fish I had wanted to catch for a long, long time) couldn't slow me.

I had to take care of some dirty business around 10:15 or so, but was to the river shortly thereafter. Signs warning of a voluntary closure were tacked to the posts at every access point. Low flows and high temps were again affecting this part of the West after another low-water year. Fishing was to stop at 12, yet the closure warning was almost up and the water was incredibly cold, so I ended up fishing all day.

A hopper/dropper was my rig to start. No luck, save for a missed slash or two. I changed to a one fly, with a Joe's Hopper instead of the bulky foam Club Sandwich. Caught a nice cutt of 11" or so and missed a few more. Then I changed to a 2 nymph rig with indy and the fun really started.

All fish came on the lower nymph - a flashback Hare's Ear - so I clipped off the top fly and went with one fly again. Mostly rainbows to be had in the faster, heavier riffles and runs.

Wading across the river above the deep run I had just fished proved to be very difficult. I nearly busted my ass several times and almost took a premature bath. My Korkers were in tatters, with the felt peeling up from the rubber sole base. That did not a happy Randy make.

Happy or not, there was still a long day of fishing ahead. I moved over to fish the other side of the same deep run that I started on. A quick couple of 'bows came to net, as did a whitefish, before I hooked what I can only say was a MONSTER.

I can't tell what it was... from the headshake and bulling I thought it could've been a brown. All I really saw was the flash, full side and length as he felt the sting and plowed downstream, peeling line off quickly. What a sweet sound that is, too. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!

I had the big guy slightly pressured, but not too bad. He was still taking line when the tippet snapped. I should've checked my knots and line after the last fish. DAMN!

"Oh well," I had thought. "Win some, lose some, and the rest get rained out." Thank you Dad, for one of many sayings that now graces my lexicon. It comes in so handy in situations like that one. I'm not sure I could've handled losing such a nice fish without such perspective.

I was again able to cast once my hands stopped trembling. The fish were very active then, and I soon caught several more whiteys, some with decent size. Not what I wanted necessarily, but they would suffice in a pinch. Luckily they wouldn't have to suffice for long.

After stinging, rolling and effectively missing a nice rainbow, I was again watching my indicator go under, this time to the tune of a solid 18" football of a rainbow. A great fight on both our parts, but I prevailed and slid a net under him to end the battle. I unhooked him in the net, slid two very wet hands around his tail and under his belly, and gently guided him home. What a sight to see!

It strikes me every time: here it is, this beautiful big fish that you just caught, swimming back into the depths where you then notice just how small he is in the grand scheme of that particular run, pool or what have you. Makes you wonder what the largest fish in there will go.

Exploring downstream, I found a huge run into a bend with large eddies on either side. Action was immediate. A cutt, followed by a bow a minute or two later. Then it happened - I hooked a decent sized rainbow that was digging down from a shelf of boulders at the near bank, peeling a little line - when all of a sudden he turned on his bionics (dunna-nuh-nuh-nuh... Six Million Dollar Rainbow) and line started SCREAMING off my real and pulling into the deep. The line then went slack as he bolted towards me. As I stripped frantically to regain pressure on him, I looked past my rod and saw a golden brown fish (Brown? Bull?) that had to be somewhere in the 10 lb.+ range. He was swimming back towards the head and out to the middle of the run and deeper, like he had just missed his prey and was setting up back in his lie.

I'm pretty sure that same fish had my little 12" 'bow on his dinner menu, and I had just happened to set it up and take it away. Maybe that rainbow will thank me a few years later when he's 5 or more lbs and hungry for a GRHE or Elk Hair Caddis? One can certainly hope so.

My rear must have a few cracks in it as I type this, as I busted it once again wading back across above the eddy pool. Water came over the top of my waders a couple times, but thankfully I did not swim with the fishes. That large guy might have taken a finger if given the opportunity, or naughtier bits still if I was really unfortunate. Not a pretty thought.

Evening was fast approaching, so I looked at various options for the night's stay. I decided to make camp right on the bank at one of the many developed sites. 7 bucks a night for a place right on the Blackfoot is an offer I can't turn down.

I tied some flies to replenish my stocks, had a drink and watched a few anglers that had come by. Chatting with them, I had come to hear that one of the guys caught a large Bull up higher on the Blackfoot. 28" or so, they said, on a big black streamer. That sounds about right, and also sounds like a heart attack waiting to happen.

The water beckoned again. I let the group of four men fish the runs I had hit earlier, then stepped back in once they were well downstream. Another 'bow, another whitey. Hey, this catching fish stuff is pretty fun. I still had over another month of fishing left. I must have been good in a previous life.

Dinner time was soon about, but before I could get too involved I noticed a couple of young deer down drinking and grazing. A few pics later and it was back to the food.

Vittles! Steak, grilled zucchini and grilled corn on the cob, all washed down by an ice-cold Dr. Pepper. Whoo-ha! I was in Heaven.

Sadly, all good things come to an end (there's another Dad-phrase,) and so it was with this wonderful day. "Beddy-bye nite-nite time," to quote a baby sitter. With the river as my white-noise backdrop, sleep came easy and trouty dreams soon occupied my head, where previously there were already trouty thoughts. You might argue that because there's not so much gray matter in there, plenty of space exists for all things trout to co-mingle. You'd probably be right. There has to be a reason for this trout-crazy mentality after all.