Time: 11:00AM – 12:00PM
Location: Between Sylvan Lake State Park visitor center and Yeoman Campground
East Fork, Brush Creek 07/12/2025 Photo Album
A friend of my daughter reserved two campsites at Yeoman Campground from July 11 through July 13. Jane and I were invited to join, so we spent two nights at Yeoman. Amy’s friend, Jacy, was the organizer, and she arranged for her family to join her along with another friend of Amy and Jacy and his family. By Saturday the campground was filled with the laughter and enthusiasm of six youngsters ranging in age from ten to five.
Jacy’s son, Alden, expressed an interest in fly fishing, so on Saturday morning I provided instruction to the three oldest members of the youth group that was present. There was Alden, Emma and Emerson. I began the day with some casting instruction in the driveway next to the campsite. I explained a bit of terminology including an explanation of a fly line as opposed to a leader, and I explained that the line is the key to propelling flies to their destination. I shot some line out of the rod and then allowed each kid to try making some casts without the presence of a fly. The results were mixed, but it was only a brief session.
Alden Reaching for a Brook Trout
Next, I returned to my campsite and pulled on my waders and gear, and when I returned to the base campsite, five of us headed to the stream. The group consisted of Jacy, Alden, Emma and Emerson. The section that we chose to fish would have been decent for somewhat seasoned anglers, but it was a challenge for novices. Why? Because it was nearly all slow-moving beaver ponds. The kids were dressed in swimsuits, but I wore my waders. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate fishing and wading among beaver ponds? They are surrounded by boggy marshes with abundant holes, and the stream bottom is notoriously mucky.
Many bushes and trees bordered the ponds, and this made it important to stand in the middle of the stream to get a clear backcast. Wading sent out warning waves across the pools. I decided that the best approach was for me to cast and and attempt to hook fish and then allow the youngsters to reel in the catch.
There were spots where the pond depth surpassed the top of my waders, so I was forced to cast from the bank or shallow swamped sod clumps. This dictated keeping the backcast high and making long backhand casts. It was not a situation that accommodated young novices.
Proud Displayer of First Brook Trout
I strung my Loomis two-piece five weight, and I knotted a red body hippie stomper to the leader. Within five minutes a hungry brook trout slapped the hippie stomper, and I landed the first fish. I allowed Alden to reel in the little fighter, after I spooled the slack fly line. Needless to say, excitement reigned among our small group.
Terry Cleans Fish after I Demonstrated
I continued slowly working my way upstream, but suddenly the trout refused the hippie stomper or ignored it completely. I was conscious of the need for action for the young students, so I swapped the red stomper for another with a dark purple body. The change was like magic, and I landed six additional brook trout. Alden was my guide, as he led the way and warned me of deep holes and drop offs. I rotated among the three young anglers taking turns reeling in the fish, and Jacy kept a watchful eye for safety reasons while lugging the white fish bucket.
I found that making long casts and allowing the fly to simply sit in a near stationary state was the key to prompting strikes. We kept five brook trout in the bucket, and eventually even Alden’s interest waned, and he was the most ardent and patient student of fly fishing. In addition, the cumulative impact of standing in ice cold mountain water was creating a chill among the youngsters.
Fishing Hole Became Swimming Hole in the Afternoon
The crew was excited about the prospect of eating the freshly caught brook trout, so we returned to the campsite. For some reason the kids thought that the fish would like vegetation in the bucket, and it was filled with reeds and blades of grass. I quickly marched over to our next-door campsite and retrieved a couple knives. When I returned, one of the girls scooped a brook trout from the bucket after a few slippery releases, and she delivered it to the cutting board. I beheaded and gutted the small fish, while Jacy’s brother, Terry, observed; and then I turned over fish cleaning duties to Terry. I was impressed with the lack of squeamishness on the part of the young observers. They took turns touching the tail and head and even the eyes of the recently gutted fish.
Seeing the enthusiasm of the young folks made Saturday one of the most rewarding fishing days of the year for this seasoned angler. Hopefully this will become an annual tradition, and in future years I will witness the growth of beginners becoming competent anglers.
Fish Landed: 5