Time: 10:00AM – 7:00PM

Location: Downstream from Calgary

Bow River 08/25/2017 Photo Album

I am experiencing technical difficulties with my blog that prevent me from inserting photos in the body of the text. The link above continues to work should you wish to view my photos from this fishing trip. Hopefully I can resolve this issue soon.

I began fishing in my early thirties, and my passion for this wonderful sport endured for over thirty years. In the early years I read everything I could, and I subscribed to numerous periodicals. Even now I receive six magazines, and although I struggle to keep pace with their arrival, I continue to read and educate myself. As with technology, I fear becoming outdated, and reading is an excellent means to stay current.

Over the years I devoured numerous articles that described fishing in the Bow River in Alberta. The descriptions sounded almost mythical to my eager ears, and the thought of visiting Alberta to cast a line in the blue hued river that tumbles from its source in Banff National Park struck me as a vague fantasy. Yet here I was at the Out Fly Fishing shop in Calgary on Friday morning, August 25, 2017.

When I decided to book a day of guided fishing on the Bow River, I contacted one of my Instagram connections and asked for a recommendation. She suggested a guide who also worked for Out Fly Fishing; however, he was already booked on August 25, so he suggested that I contact the shop and seek another guide.

Jane graciously allotted me a day of fishing on our return trip to Colorado from Jasper, and I stood at the counter and purchased my one day non-resident fishing license. Once this necessary detail was completed, I met my guide for the day, Mike, and he ushered me to his SUV and drift boat. Mike and I exchanged initial greetings, and I was admittedly a bit concerned over my assigned mentor, as Mike was obviously older than me. Could this elderly gentleman handle the physical requirements of rowing a drift boat while at the same time knotting my flies and directing my casts? I decided to trust the shop and defer any judgments.

We drove south from Calgary for thirty minutes, until we reached a nice gradually sloping boat launch site, and while I waited, Mike backed his trailer in the water and shoved the boat into the river. Huge swarms of tricos hovered over the edge of the river right in front of me, and I walked among them to inspect their size. They were tiny. I estimated that an exact imitation would require a size 26 or 28 hook. When I pointed them out to Mike, he informed me that in all likelihood we would not attempt to match the trico hatch.

I was equipped with my Sage One five weight rod, and before we launched, Mike tied a size 10 foam hopper to my line along with a bright red annelid worm as a dropper. I expected a terrestrial on top, but I was surprised by the worm. According to Mike the river was quite low for late August, although it struck me as a very substantial river compared to my usual destinations in Colorado. Unlike the upper Bow, the color of the river was greenish blue as it rushed over round white river rocks. The terrain along the river was mostly flat prairie farmland, although the gradient dropped enough to create a nice mix of pools and long flowing runs and glides.

By the time we drove to the river, launched the boat and rigged the rod it was ten o’clock, and now my day began in earnest. The first hour was a period of adjustment, as I followed Mike’s guidance, and I gradually grew to understand his verbal commands. This in turn enabled me to cast to the places that Mike knew, through many years of experience, would most likely produce trout. The first hour did not produce any fish, although I felt as if I made some expert casts and executed long drag free drifts.

In hour number two the fishing began to heat up. Mike and I began to work as a more cohesive team. We moved farther from the launch point, and the air temperature warmed the water. Fish began to rise in the slow moving pools, and I suspected they picked off tricos, but the feeding was not the regular gulping, that I associated with trico hatches. It quickly became clear that the trico eaters were tiny fish, and I did not commit my time and money to a day of casting for dinks on the Bow River.

We drifted through a nice run of moderate depth, where several currents merged below some gravel bars, and here I connected with three small rainbow trout in the nine to eleven inch range. At least I was catching fish, but the size was obviously disappointing. These fish relished the bright red worm, and this discovery relaxed my concerns about fishing a red worm in low late summer water conditions. I usually associate worm fishing with the high discolored conditions of spring.

My trust of Mike was gradually increasing, but then he pulled the boat up on a gradual bank and instructed me to walk the grassy slope with him. We proceeded to take a few steps, and then we paused to gaze into the slow moving band of water ten to fifteen feet beyond our positions. We repeated this over and over until we spooked two substantial rainbows that responded by slowly swimming out of view to the deeper current. I began to question whether this slow process was wasting my valuable guide trip time, but after covering thirty yards, we spotted another sizable trout, as it slowly cruised downstream above us. We froze instantly, and the fish made a one hundred and eighty degree turn and faced upstream. This was what Mike was looking for, and he instructed me to step down from the three foot bank and cast.

I stripped out line and began to cast and lengthened the distance with each forward thrust. I was feeling quite a bit of self inflicted pressure, and I was certain that I would flub this unexpected sight fishing opportunity. Finally I judged that my distance was sufficient, so I released the line and allowed it to glide through the rod guides, while I held my breath. The hopper shot out straight and then plunked down in the river, and the worm dropper followed with a small splash, but I now realized that my cast came up short. I was admonishing myself for failing my first significant casting test of the day, when the large underwater form turned around. Apparently the sound of the hopper caught its attention, and it slowly swam toward the terrestrial, and after traveling two feet it turned its head. Mike shouted, “hit it”, and I did so and felt a strong connection with the targeted fish. I was shocked to realize, that the trout snatched the trailing annelid!

The rainbow trout instantly went into escape mode, and I allowed it complete three or four high speed dashes, while line peeled off my new Battenkill disk drag reel. I was quite pleased over my decision to upgrade the reel that held my five weight line prior to the trip. Eventually the rainbow began to tire, and at this point I realized that Mike left the net back in the boat. This fact did not faze Mike, as he waded into the river, and instructed me on how to guide the fish within his reach, whereupon he confidently grasped it and positioned it for a few photos. Mike estimated that the rainbow trout measured twenty inches, and it exhibited a fine width. The entire episode was extremely visual, and a state of euphoria settled over me, until we were back in the boat.

We continued our journey down the Bow River, and after another thirty minutes elapsed, we drifted through an area where a nice deep run cascaded within  five feet of the north bank. I made a cast to the bank and allowed the hopper to bob along the seam next to the rocky shoreline. Suddenly a large form emerged, and the back of a rainbow trout humped above the surface, and then the mouth of the hungry stream dweller crashed down on the grasshopper. I was attentive and instantly raised my rod, and I was excited to feel a connection with another substantial fish.

Once again a battle ensued, and fortunately I withstood the various escape antics and guided another twenty inch rainbow trout into Mike’s waiting net. I pinched myself to make sure that landing two twenty inch rainbow trout on the Bow River within one hour was not a delirious dream. The first significant trout was a textbook sight fishing scenario, and now I witnessed an aggressive take of a large surface hopper imitation. Although rainbow number two equaled the earlier prize in length, it did not possess the same bulk. Mike and I exchanged high fives and continued our journey down the Bow River.

I wish I could report that twenty inch fish continued to nestle in Mike’s net during the remainder of our float, but that was not the case. I was not disappointed, however, as the catch rate continued at a reasonable rate, and my focus was sustained by the expectation of connecting with another large fish. We paused and ate our lunches at 1:30, and between two o’clock and seven o’clock I managed to steer eleven more rainbow trout into the large long handled net. Three of these fish were powerful rainbows in the fourteen to fifteen inch range, and they acquitted themselves well with leaps, dives and sudden bursts in their attempts to shed my hook. Another fish measured in the seventeen inch range, but it was lean and undernourished, and Mike speculated that it was diseased in some way.

The remainder of the catch were spunky rainbows in the nine to twelve inch range, and I lifted these to the boat quickly in order to pursue bigger targets. Of course success was not always a given, and I also hooked and lost four or five trout that in all likelihood fell into the fifteen to twenty inch size slot. A twenty plus fish day was a possibility, but long distance releases are an expected part of the game.

Over the course of the day I learned that the best water was characterized by the seams and deep runs where multiple currents merged. Also productive were stretches of moderate current and depth along rocky shorelines. In these places I cast ahead of the boat within a few feet of the bank, and Mike matched the drift of the boat with the speed of the fly enabling very long drifts. Slow moving deep pools were unproductive, and by the afternoon we rowed through them quickly to seek the locations that matched the productive areas described above.

What a fun day! I landed seventeen trout including two twenty inch fish and four in the fourteen to seventeen inch range. All the larger fish were persistent fighters, and they forced me to employ my best fish fighting skills. The catch rate subsided during the last hour or two, but between 11AM and 5PM it was relatively steady.

And what about my concerns with Mike? He took longer to knot fluorocarbon than the average guide, and his hearing was a bit impaired, but he more than compensated through his vast knowledge of the river. I developed an understanding of Mike’s verbal directions, and my confidence in his guidance blossomed. He clearly knew the river and how to maneuver the boat and positioned me for my best chance for success. After thirty years of dreaming about the Bow River of Alberta, I actually spent a day drifting along its spectacular waters and managed to land some quality fish. What a day.

Fish Landed: 17

Time: 10:00AM – 3:30PM

Location: Olsen Rest Area

Elk River 08/18/2017 Photo Album

I am experiencing technical difficulties with my blog that prevent me from inserting photos in the body of the text. The link above continues to work should you wish to view my photos from this fishing trip. Hopefully I can resolve this issue soon.

I visited the Elk River in British Columbia on 8/8/2015 and 8/9/2015. That trip was my introduction to the beautiful blue tinged crystal clear river in the southeastern corner of the western province, and when Jane and I discussed a road trip to Banff and Jasper, I made sure to include a day for fly fishing on the Elk River in our itinerary. In August of 2015 I was a guest of Montana Fly Company, and this translated to floating the river in a drift boat both days. Friday August 18, 2017 was scheduled to be a self guided wade fishing experience. How would the two experiences compare?

Jane and I arrived in Fernie, BC on Thursday August 17, and we checked into our hotel and enjoyed a delightful dinner at the Curry Bowl a few blocks down the street. Knowing that the Canadian trip was in my future prompted me to exchange direct mail comments and emails with an Instagram acquaintance, Cliff Razzo, who lives in Fernie. He recommended lodging and most importantly suggested a wade fishing section for me to explore. His kind advice was utilized, and I was grateful for his assistance. Cliff also urged me to carry bear spray several times in his informative email, so I purchased a canister at Bass Pro Shop prior to departing on the trip.

On Friday morning Jane and I walked from our lodging to the Elk River Fly Shop, and I purchased the requisite license and permit for one day of fishing on the Elk River. After the transaction was completed, I asked the young lady behind the counter about the turn off from the highway into the Olsen Rest Stop, since Cliff was very explicit in directing me not to make a left turn from the northbound lane. She suggested turning right into the toilet area and then crossing both lanes of the highway to avoid making a left across traffic. Once she explained the traffic nuance, she offered some unsolicited advice. “Be alert because that is where they dump roadkill.” Whoa! This caught my attention. Apparently bears were attracted to the area I chose to fish by deer, elk, and a variety of carcasses. I was instantly on high alert, and when I returned to the hotel, I immediately opened our recent purchase of bear spray in preparation for my day on the water.

I departed the hotel at 9AM, and by the time I drove past the Olsen Rest Area to Sparwood and returned south, it was 9:30 as I pulled into the parking lot. As it turned out, the toilets described by the Elk River salesperson were across from the Olsen Pit Road, and I was searching for the Olsen Rest Area. Much to my relief I was a mile or two below the Olsen Pit, the apparent repository of roadkill carcasses.

I assembled my gear as usual and elected to use my Sage One five weight with the expectation of some larger fish. The temperature was in the mid-fifties, but I wore no extra layers, as the high for the day was predicted to reach the mid-eighties. I dutifully slid the holster over my wader belt and inserted a can of bear spray, and then I followed the five hundred meter path to the river. The riverbed displayed a significant amount of exposed round rock, and initially I assumed that flows were low, and they may have been, but the strong current remained fast enough to dissuade me from any attempt to cross.

In 2015 a Jake’s gulp beetle was magical, so I began my 2017 adventure with the same fly. Unfortunately fly selection was not that easy, as the foam beetle was not desired by the west slope cutthroats on August 18, at least not in the morning time period. Following the small orange indicator on the back of the beetle was difficult in the morning shade created by the high bank, so I converted to a yellow fat Albert with a beadhead hares ear and a copper john. The fat Albert attracted two refusals, but after covering an hours worth of water, I switched to a Chernobyl ant, and this provoked no response from the fish. At least the fat Albert generated a few looks.

I opted for another change and knotted a tan pool toy to my line, and this foam terrestrial once again produced a pair of tentative looks. I also briefly tested a parachute green drake, since Cliff mentioned it as a productive fly. The looks and refusals described might suggest that I was having a fair amount of activity, but it transpired over a 3.5 hour period, and by 1:30PM my net failed to feel the weight of a fish. I was rather frustrated and snapped a series of landscape photos to make sure I had some remembrance of the day.

Although the fish count was locked on zero, the 3.5 hours did provide some clues. All the refusals occurred in deep slow moving areas within ten feet of the bank. I invested a significant amount of time casting to moderate riffles, long glides and deep pools with no discernible benefit from my effort. I pondered this observation and vowed to cover more of the river and focus on the slow bank side spots. Unfortunately these locations tended to exist next to high dirt banks. In fact they were so high, that it was impossible to lower oneself from the top to the water. I adopted the tactic of entering the river where the drop off was mild, and then I carefully waded along the base of the steep bank to access the band of slow water. For the most part this worked, but several times the water bordering the bank was too deep or too fast, and this circumstance forced me to retreat.

By 1:30 I approached a nice area that met my productive water criteria. I flicked a backhand cast below a log and above a smaller branch that extended from the high bank. I reverted to a Jake’s gulp beetle with a peacock dubbed body, and suddenly after the beetle crept only six inches, a shadowy form emerged from the depths and moved a couple feet to chomp on the foam bug. I could not believe my eyes. I instinctively reacted with a hook set, and once I felt resistance, I realized I was attached to a decent cutthroat trout. This was the action I sought, and I carefully maintained pressure, until I scooped the fifteen inch prize into my net. I was finally on the scoreboard, and the native cutthroat was a very pretty fish to behold.

The ten foot ribbon of water continued, but in order to fish it, I was required to climb the bank and circle around a large log. I complied and carefully lowered myself back to the river. Once I was positioned, I gazed upstream, and I noticed a deep depression where the river displayed a brilliant aqua color, as it flowed over a white bottom. As a result of the extreme clarity I was skeptical that a fish was present, but I flicked an obligatory backhand cast to the top of the trough. I retain a vivid image of what happened next. A large cutthroat materialized from the aqua depression, and it actually launched out of the water and descended on the beetle from above. In a state of shock I lifted the rod and set the hook. This Elk River inhabitant displayed its power and endurance, as a prolonged tussle ensued, but eventually I scooped the seventeen inch wild fish into my net. The stunning cutthroat was very wide and possessed a light tan body with vivid fine speckles. I was shaking from the excitement for several minutes after this episode.

I continued upstream at a rapid clip for another 1.5 hours, and I managed to land a small eight inch cutty along with two momentary connections with likely substantial fish. By 3:30 I was quite weary, and I knew a decent hike was in my future, and I could see the highway, so I reeled up the beetle and made my exit. Friday was a challenging day on the Elk River, and I gained an appreciation for the advantages of a drift boat. Traveling on foot limits the number of prime cutthroat holding spots that can be accessed in a day of fishing. Despite this handicap I managed five refusals, three temporary hook ups, and three landed fish. Two of the netted trout were absolutely stunning wild westslope cutthroat trout of fifteen and seventeen inches. The landscape was spectacular, and I never encountered an angry bear. It was a success in my book, and that is all that matters.

Fish Landed: 3

Time: 9:30AM – 4:00PM

Location: Along the Piney River Trail

Piney River 08/10/2017 Photo Album

The alarm beeped at 5:30, and I left the house by 6AM. I packed the car with all the essentials the night before, so after a quick bite to eat, I packed my lunch and quietly departed. The planning and early start enabled me to pull into the parking area at the Piney River Trailhead by 8:30.  It rained heavily from the Eisenhower Tunnel, until I reached Vail, but the sky was blue, as I turned on to Red Sandstone Road. The dirt road was extremely muddy, and the Santa Fe was covered with red caked mud by the time I parked at the trailhead. After putting on my waders, I gathered my gear and assembled my Orvis Access four weight, and finally I was on the trail by 9:00. I hiked for thirty minutes, and then I cut down to the stream and began my day.

The air temperature was in the upper forties, but I knew I would be too warm, if I hiked with an extra layer, so I stuffed my raincoat in my backpack for extra warmth if necessary. When I waded into the stream, it was evident that flows were down compared to my previous visit on 7/25/2017.

A Dense Stand of Fireweed

On the 7/25/2017 trip I fished a gray stimulator nearly the entire time, so on Thursday I began with a peacock body stimulator. My supply of gray versions was dwindling, so I hoped to learn that the fish were not discriminating regarding body color. I fished with this fly for ten minutes through some slow moving smooth pools, and then I also tested it in some faster pockets, but it failed to encourage even a look. I concluded that the body color was important, so I swapped the peacock for a gray body, since that was a proven producer on the earlier trip. On Thursday gray was not in favor. Maybe yellow was a winner, since I saw a few yellow sallies in the air? Nope. After a decent trial period it became obvious that the yellow stimulator was avoided like the plague.

I continued moving upstream, and I was certain that I advanced to water that was rarely fished, once I vacated the slow pools where I began. Tamped down grass and weeds were obvious clues that other fishermen visited the starting area, but the banks appeared to be untouched, once I progressed one hundred yards upstream. Where were the fish? Even looks and refusals were absent, and that was very unusual for Piney River.

Better Lighting

I decided to try a nymph approach, so I tied on a size 10 Chernobyl ant and trailed a beadhead pheasant tail. Finally I registered two small brook trout and breathed a sigh of relief. A small brown grabbed the pheasant tail in a fast run almost immediately after the nymph entered the water, and I reached three fish for the first hour of fishing. I continued on with the two fly offering, but once again quality pools and pockets failed to deliver any looks. In another desperate attempt to solve the code, I abandoned the dry/dropper and returned to a medium olive body stimulator, and this fly enabled me to land two small brown trout to improve my fish count to five.

Lunch Log

I remained locked on five for quite a while, and I sat down to eat my lunch at noon on a nice flat rock with the fish counter stable at five. After lunch I decided to experiment with a green drake. I spotted a few on July 25, so perhaps the local trout had long memories. First I tried the Harrop hair wing version, because it floats high and is easier to follow in the turbulent currents compared to the comparadun and parachute styles. Two brown trout crushed the Harrop hair wing, and I cautiously raised my expectations, but my optimism was fleeting, as the Harrop floated through a series of attractive spots without inducing even a look.

Another Gem

When this occurred on Tuesday I switched to a parachute green drake, and I copied the move on Thursday. I tied the very same parachute green drake to my line that produced nearly twenty fish on Tuesday, and surprisingly it delivered three, and the fish count climbed to double digits. I was now perched on ten fish in a couple hours of fishing, but I was not pleased with my Piney River experience. The fish were very small and consistently in the 6-9 inch range, and they were all brown trout with two or three small brook trout in the mix. Where were the gorgeous cutbows, cutthroats, and rainbows that served as eye candy on my previous trip? In order to land the first ten fish I covered an enormous amount of stream real estate, and quite a few prime pools failed to yield even a look or refusal. I could not get into a rhythm, and consequently I spent an inordinate amount of time changing flies.

Pool and Foam Equals Fish

Because the parachute green drake delivered three small trout from marginal shallow pockets, I relied on it for a fairly long window of time, but empty casts became the norm, and several fish elevated and looked and then returned to the bottom of the stream. In addition the body was waterlogged and required constant dabbing and drying. Finally the fly got snagged on a stick, and when I yanked it free, the parachute hackle climbed up the wing post. This was a definite hint that I needed to retire the parachute green drake.

Nice Colors

I paused and pondered my options. I tried the dry/dropper with the large Chernobyl, but perhaps a more realistic terrestrial would be a more enticing option. I knotted a Jake’s gulp beetle to my line and added a salvation nymph as a dropper, and I began plunking the foam beetle in likely holding spots. Early in this game a brook trout smashed the beetle, and once again I convinced myself that I solved the riddle. Again I was mistaken. I cycled through quite a few changes to the dropper including a beadhead hares ear, ultra zug bug and emerald caddis pupa; but none of these generated interest. Meanwhile a couple fish snubbed the foam beetle, and I my frustration level once again surged.

The beetle/dropper episode convinced me that nymphs were a waste of time, and the small stream residents were clearly focused on food morsels floating in the surface film. Perhaps the low clear water dictated going to a small realistic fly? I considered a parachute ant, but I was reluctant to engage in an eye exam in the shaded light of the narrow canyon. Instead I plucked a light gray size 16 deer hair caddis from my fly box. Success. After I embraced the caddis as my Piney River fly of choice, the fish counter improved from eleven to twenty-five. Most of these landed fish favored the light gray version, but I also netted a few using a size 16 dark olive deer hair caddis, and in addition a size 14 dark olive muggly caddis duped three. The muggly caddis eaters were actually a bit larger than the average fish landed on the day.

Caddis Favored by This Brookie

Looks Like a Muggly Caddis in the Lip

I lost two of the light gray caddis to hemlock branches, and I harbored concern over the adequacy of my size 16 light gray supply, so I tried a dark olive body for awhile. It did produce a couple fish, but then the hackle unraveled, and I elected to experiment with the muggly caddis. The muggly yielded three or four fish, but then the dry fly without hackle became partially waterlogged, so I exchanged it for another muggly with a light gray body and a light tan snowshoe rabbit fur underwing and an elk hair wing. This fly was very visible, and it fooled one trout, but then trout grew disinterested.

During the last thirty minutes of fishing I reverted to one of the remaining light gray size 16’s, and it once again delivered several netted fish. How can a 25 fish day be disappointing? It took place over six hours, and I covered in excess of .5 miles of water including some very high quality deep pools and pockets. The size of the fish was generally in the six to nine inch range with a couple that extended to ten or eleven inches. On July 25 I also landed a few small fish barely over the six inch cutoff, but the average size was more like 9-11 inches with a few big boys in the twelve and thirteen inch range. On Thursday I landed one rainbow and one small cutbow, and all the other fish were brown trout or brook trout. I loved the variety of fish species on the earlier trip, and the lack of diversity was the most disappointing aspect of the August 10 outing. Of course I endured the requisite quantity of long distance releases, and several seemed to be some of the larger fish on the day. I learned over time that this frustration is a necessary part of small stream fishing.

I Love the Look of Ledge Rocks

I covered new water, and aside from the fishing, the landscape was spectacular. I passed through high moss covered rock walls and climbed over and around numerous beautiful waterfalls. At ten o’clock as I stood in the stream changing flies, an elk cow and calf suddenly appeared from behind a huge boulder on the left side of the stream. I immediately grabbed my camera case, but once they splashed into the stream, the cow saw me, and they quickly jogged up the hillside on the south side of the creek.

Best Waterfall of the Day

In summary I enjoyed another fine day on Piney River. The lower flows and clear water increased the challenge, but I eventually made the adjustment and downsized to a small caddis and experienced some success. I pretty much had the place to myself, and that is always a positive for me. I discovered that hiking the extra miles from the parking lot pays off in terms of fish numbers, size and diversity. I will keep this in mind, when I make my next excursion to Piney River.

Fish Landed: 25

Spectacular Color on This Little Guy

Time: 2:30PM – 5:00PM

Location: Just above the Fraser Experimental Forest headquarters.

St. Louis Creek 08/04/2017 Photo Album

What now? I had a few hours available to salvage my fishing trip of Friday, August 4. I surrendered to the Colorado River near Parshall, and I considered options for the remainder of the day. The upper Williams Fork above the reservoir was relatively close, although that choice required a longer return drive. I fished Willow Creek along CO 125 briefly while camping at Denver Creek quite a few years ago, and I recalled landing some brook trout, but my fishing skills were weaker then than now. Two possibilities along the return drive were St. Louis Creek west of Fraser, CO and the North Fork of Clear Creek west of Empire, CO. St. Louis Creek appealed to me because I never fished there, and it was more distant from a main road than Willow Creek or the North Fork of Clear Creek. More distance equals less pressured in my book.

I entered Fraser Experimental Forest in my maps app, and my iPhone directed me to the headquarters located across from St. Louis Creek. The directions were accurate, and I backed into a narrow space between two trees, and I quickly prepared to optimize my remaining time on August 4. I remained in my waders, but I broke down my Sage five weight, and now I chose my Loomis two piece five weight, since it was a shorter rod and better suited to the narrow creek surrounded by trees and bushes. These actions allowed me to wade into the water by 2:30.

So Pretty

The sky was now cloudy, and consequently the air temperature dropped, although I remained comfortable in my long sleeved Columbia fishing shirt. The flow was strong although not excessively high, but excellent clarity prompted me to begin my day with a medium olive body size 12 stimulator. This fly was light and fluttered down on the surface without creating much disturbance, yet it was buoyant and easy to see. I began prospecting all the likely refuges for trout, and immediately encountered two long distance releases and a couple refusals. I persisted, however, and after ten minutes I landed a tiny four inch brook trout. This scenario unfolded for twenty minutes, and I eventually landed a couple char that were barely over the six inch mark required to increment the fish counter. Every countable fish was matched by twice as many momentary hook ups or fish too small to count.

Began with an Olive Stimulator

Another Jewel

After another series of refusals I decided to downsize, and I tied a size 16 light gray deer hair caddis to my line. This proved to be a solid move, and I landed more fish, although the size of the brookies remained modest. The caddis was quite popular with the fish, however, and the fish tally climbed to seven. I hoped that the larger deeper pools would yield bigger fish, but fantasy did not become reality. By four o’clock some light rain descended, but not enough to get out my raincoat, and I pondered my next move. I was very curious to experiment with a dry/dropper in this small creek, so that is what I did. For the top fly I knotted a Jake’s gulp beetle to my line, and as a single dropper I attached a beadhead pheasant tail.

Best Pool on the Creek

The experiment was a success, and I landed eight more brook trout to push the count to fifteen before I retired at 5PM. The last hour was a blast, as I splatted the beetle and pheasant tail in all likely trout holding nooks of St. Louis Creek. Three aggressive brook trout attacked the beetle, and the rest snatched the pheasant tail from the drift. The size of the fish actually improved a tad, as I landed an eight inch battler and a couple seven inch jewels. And they were indeed gems, as the colors sparkled in the sun, and they displayed bright orange blotches along their underside.

Best Fish of the Day

2.5 hours on St. Louis Creek was just what the doctor ordered after a tough outing on the much larger Colorado River. Each cast offered the chance of a pretty surprise. My greatest difficulty was staging the brookies for photos without the aid of a net, as the holes in the my net were too large for the tiny fish.

Fish Landed: 15