Grand Canyon, March 2010

This entry has taken some time for me to finally getting around to writing (one of the consequences of time-consuming yet satisfying wildlife biotech work that I started up this past month), but I decided to revisit the Grand Canyon and Bright Angel Creek at the start of March, amidst winter storms and runoff throughout the rest of the region. I managed to secure a permit for a couple nights at Bright Angel Campground by walking in to the Backcountry Office, and then quickly made my way to the rim to begin the downward descent.

Ice and snow still clung to the upper sections of the trail, and I once again reveled in the awesome spectacle of this landscape that can so effortlessly envelope a person in mind, body and spirit. I encountered the pictographs on a sandstone wall shown above, evidence that people have long held a strong connection to this place, and continue to do so today.

I made the trip down into the backcountry in the hopes of finding an influx of spawning Rainbows moving upstream through Bright Angel Creek, and was not disappointed in this regard. I stopped by a small tributary that meets the mighty Colorado along the way to my destination, and prospected for trout near the confluence.

I quickly found a few jewels, including this stunner of a male Rainbow just upstream in the tiny creek, that grabbed a #10 Crawbugger on 4X (I stuck with this pattern most of the trip, with good results).

The fish measured a solid 15", contained some girth for his size, and displayed some of the more vivid hues I can recall on a Rainbow recently (actually, reminiscent of native Redbands in my home state of Oregon)--a perfect embodiment of the beauty and wildness to be found in a streambred trout. One last look at the fish below, before returning him to the crystalline stream and magnificent surroundings.

I returned to the main river, and drifted the streamer through a likely pool at the mouth of the tributary.

Another strong trout inhaled the offering, and darted about the cloudy green flows, before yielding in the form of a fine 16" Rainbow, again a male from the looks of it.

Both of the fish shown above represented an average larger spawning bow, as I came to realize throughout the rest of my fishing endeavors on this trip, and the spotting pattern tended to be focused above the lateral line, at least for the migrants from the Colorado.

In contrast, the bow shown above and below featured heavy spotting along its entire body, and I suspect the trout was a stream resident because of this trait. I found the 12-13" fish holding in a good run near the campground after I finally made my way to Bright Angel Creek, and as the photo above indicates, it took a #12 BH San Juan Worm.

Other spirited Rainbows came to hand the remainder of the day, ranging in size from 12-15", including the fish shown below, and I managed to hook and lose several Browns of similar dimensions as well. I lost one other scrappy male Rainbow of 16-17" after an extended battle in the evening, and it was both reaffirming and a joy to see healthy numbers of wild trout distributed throughout the rushing creek, particularly in early March when much of the rest of northern Arizona was still caught in the grips of winter.

I awoke early the next morning, and took advantage of as much daylight as possible to explore up and downstream in search of willing trout.

I wandered down to the Colorado River, in the hopes of picking up a few energized trout preparing to migrate into Bright Angel for spawning activities. Unfortunately, the lower, relatively clear green flows of yesterday had been replaced by higher river volumes, water the color of coffee and minimal visbility. Nonetheless, I received a few strikes (including one hit that initially felt like a snag, before some unseen bruiser tore into the currents, and the fly eventually slipped out of the mouth of the fish), and landed a few smaller silvery bows.

I returned back upstream along Bright Angel Creek, as the sun's rays crept over the canyon rim to create a brilliant, warm day.

I continued where I left off along the stream yesterday, in terms of connecting with strong wild trout, including this handsome fish of 14" or so, and my first Brown of the trip.

The Browns were far outnumbered by Rainbows, but the handful of the former I did bring to hand appeared healthy and full of fight (even more so than the bows, and often jumped repeatedly), generally measuring a thick 13-15" (with a few smaller ones thrown in, and I missed a couple that went 16-17"). For whatever reason, it seemed to me that the Brown Trout caught this time exhibited more bold coloration, compared with those I landed back on my November trip. They generally showed up in spots one would expect for Browns, in slower backwaters and pockets offering ample cover, and near the tailouts of pools and runs, such as the one below near the campground.

The lower numbers of Browns in the stream probably reflected the recent management practices of the National Park Service in reducing trout populations in Bright Angel Creek, to somehow aid native warmwater species in the Colorado mainstem, despite a lack of hard evidence that trout are truly making a large impact on chubs and other endemic fish, and the greater and much more significant limiting factor to native fisheries in the watershed in the form of Glen Canyon Dam, which almost certainly will remain in place in the foreseeable future, to satisfy human needs, and incidentally continue to create conditions favorable to trout. While the fish that exist in Bright Angel Creek are not native, they are beautiful and wild, and provide what I am quickly realizing to be one of the top trout fisheries in the state. I recognize that I am biased and more than a bit selfish in saying this, but I can only hope that the Park Service aborts the trout control efforts, and allows this wonderful stream to continue thriving in its current state, offering a backcountry trout haven for those adventurous anglers willing to make the trek into the Canyon.

I also saw encouraging signs that the NPS may have already lessened their fisheries management practices along Bright Angel, in the form of some large, stunning spawner Rainbows, two that I was fortunate enough to fool and bring to shore. Both of these bruisers nailed a #10 Crawbugger, and held several runs apart from one another.

The first fish emerged as a marvelous male Rainbow, just shy of 20", with broad shoulders and rich crimson and golden-olive coloration, as evidenced in the pictures shown--truly one of the more impressive bows I've managed to bring to hand. The big trout proved a powerful fighter, using its size and strength to race about the small water, before I finally towed it in.

The male quickly revived upon release, and blended back into the multicolored stone stream floor.

I followed up this fish with another remarkable Rainbow, this one a hefty female that lurked under a root wad that created an undercut lie. Somehow I convinced her to take after repeated presentations with the streamer, avoided breaking off, and managed to guide the trout into open water, to land the beauty in relatively short order. The bruiser measured a solid 20" or so, and featured a silvery-turquoise sheen, interspersed with burning red-orange gill plates and side stripes--another superb, mega Rainbow Trout.

After capturing the trout's image a few times on camera, I eased the fish back into protected shallows, and watched her recover as well, before she shot back under the cover of the far bank.

I sat back for a moment after this second grand fish, and savored the pure pleasure and satisfaction that can come in fly fishing, and become even more amplified after the magic of sharing a brief space in time with such untamed, elemental creatures as trout, and particularly the elusive larger ones.

The moment passed, and flowed into more exploration and discoveries, rod and reel in hand. I continued to prospect upstream, working the streamer through the laughing pockets and currents, and soon found another energized Brown, hiding under a stone in the slack water, in the middle of the image above.

The fish thrashed about, and zipped through the fast water downstream, before I found a calm spot in the creek to pull the trout close, and get a closeup of brassy-gold and rusty-olive hues, set against the elongated head of another classic Brown, this one a solid 15".

Great fishing continued throughout the day, and I soon lost count of numbers of fish caught (always a good sign), not to mention those missed or lost.

Another Rainbow exhibits colors befitting its name; this fish measured a good 14".

A number of trout lurked in this pool, including an energized 16" Rainbow, as seen in the picture below.

This particular fish featured a transmitter beside its dorsal fin, probably for tracking studies by the Park Service. Despite the implant, the fish seemed to be in excellent condition.

A large boulder creates likely holding water; I coaxed yet another vital bow from the foam-flecked lower pocket, and connected with a strong Brown from the deceptive upper pocket.

This golden Brown measured a good 15", and was probably a male based on the sizable head and jaws.

I crossed paths with a fellow angler, spinning outfit in hand, around this time, heading down the trail as I worked my way up the stream. We exchanged nods, but due to my lower vantage point, it wasn't until the young guy had wandered down the path a bit that I noticed a large slab of a trout (on par with the two bruisers I had caught earlier in the day) crammed into a ziploc bag in his other hand--no doubt a big spawner Rainbow from some pool further upstream. The angler was certainly within his rights to keep the fish, and I suspect the loss of a single trout will not hurt the overall population in Bright Angel (and to his credit, he only kept the one), but the sight made me feel a bit sick at heart, and sad that of all the trout he could have kept for dinner, he decided to take one of the largest and (in my mind) most precious specimens in the creek. Maybe it is a trait of our society, or some deep-rooted part of human nature, that causes some people to take the best of what the natural world can offer and consume it for their own short-term needs--or maybe I am just a biased fly angler that got bent out of shape based on my own values and preferences. In any case, I was sorry to see that a magnificent fish had been lost to the stream, but I suppose life goes on.

Through it all, Bright Angel Creek flowed like a ribbon of life, and a healing tonic for the soul, under towering cliffs of ancient stone--truly one of the special places in the world, especially from the perspective of one awe-inspired fly angler.

And a few more aggressive trout showed themselves, including another wild Rainbow featuring spectacular coloration, with the Crawbugger emerging from the jaws above, and warm oranges and reds evident against deep olive green and abundant black spots in both photographs (the overall spotting and appearance reminded me a bit of Cutthroat Trout caught elsewhere).

As mentioned before, I strongly suspect this fellow to be a stream resident, based on the profuse spots, dark coloration, and large head (even sporting a small kype) of this foot-long male--in any case, a beautiful Rainbow.

Eventually, the lengthening shadows of evening approached, and while part of me wished the day could stretch onward indefinitely, my upstream wanderings soon reached an end...but not before the last cast and fish of the day, in the frothy plunge pool shown below.

I quickly received a hard strike while drifting the Crawbugger along the edge of the whitewater, and the hit materialized as one final Brown Trout, again an energized leaper that I soon pulled close to briefly admire.

The fish measured 14" or so, and possessed a dark rusty gold appearance, with winking black and red spots--yet another fantastic and vivid trout, and a fitting one to end the day.

So, another wonderful trip into the Grand Canyon, and along the clear cold flows of Bright Angel Creek (the presence of this stream cutting through dry dusty country still strikes me as something of a miracle). The only major downside to the trip occurred on the second night, and throughout the following day on the hike out, when I came down with a rather serious bout of food poisoning, making the final day and uphill trek grueling to say the least (needless to say, I did not fish on the last day as I had intended, but instead focused on staying as hydrated as possible, and pacing myself along the ascent). The experience was a good reminder of the wildness of the Grand Canyon though, and the need to be careful even with packaged foods...in any case, I will certainly be revisiting this wonderful fly fishing destination come next fall and winter, and hopefully many more times to come in the seasons ahead.

Rio Grande Country, February 2010

I decided to make a trip to New Mexico early in February for several days, in search of active trout and spectacular scenery. I managed to find both along the lower Red River, one of the major tributaries to the mighty Rio Grande, and a significant spawning and overwintering stream for larger trout from the main river. The trailhead for La Junta Trail is pictured above; the trail provides one of the few access routes into the Rio Grande Gorge, not to mention the lower Red. I also camped up here for a night, and despite bringing plenty of layers for wintry weather, I endured some chillingly cold temperatures at night in the single digits (needless to say, I decided to stay at a hotel for the other two nights of my trip).

The hike into the Gorge measured over a mile in distance, dropping quickly in elevation (not too difficult on the way down, but more strenuous on the return trip back up and out), and immediately provided some impressive views of the Rio Grande cutting through rugged country, along with the Red River near the confluence of the two waterways, as shown above.

Here are a couple of images of the Rio Grande, once I made the descent to the canyon floor. The river was beautiful in this section, wild and tumbling, and littered with abundant, deep pocketwater, ideal-looking for high-sticking large nymphs and streamers.

I fished through some runs for a little while, but noticed that the water was ice cold (and in fact ice clung to some stones at the river's edge), suspected that any trout present were sluggish at best (or else had run up into the warmer flows of the lower Red), and soon decided to start exploring the Red where it joined with the Rio Grande.

I ended up nymphing with a two-fly setup, consisting of a #14 BH Peacock Soft Hackle and #10 Crawbugger, as shown above and below, respectively.

These two flies accounted for most of the fish I hooked, and the few that I managed to actually land. I also used a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph, as shown below, and hooked up with a few trout on this pattern as well.

I like to leave the guard hairs and antron fibers sticking out in all directions from the haretron dubbing I use in the pattern above, and also tie in several strands of krystal flash, to provide more life and "bugginess" to the nymph.

The Red River was a delightful place to explore, particularly on the first day of the trip, which featured clear skies and pleasant temperatures in the mid to high 40s, after the sun rose and warmed the landscape. The rushing, clear river featured abundant pockets and plunge pools (not unlike a smaller version of the Rio Grande), some quite deep for the size of the stream (usually 20-30' across). The water temperature was also noticeably warmer than the Rio Grande, as a result of the moderating springs that swell the flows of the Red several miles upstream, and create a fall and winter sanctuary for spawning and mature trout (not to mention adventurous anglers).

I worked my way upstream, and hooked several good fish in the mid to upper teens (all looked to be heavy Rainbows or Cuttbows), that either quickly threw the hook, or else took advantage of the strong currents, charged downstream, and eventually broke off or tied into one of the numerous stream boulders--difficult conditions at best for successfully landing sizable trout, but I had come expecting to lose a good number of fish, given the character of the river and fishery, and it was encouraging to locate and at least connect with some of these bruisers. I eventually came upon the deep foam-flecked eddy pool shown above, spotted another nice-looking fish hanging beneath the surface, and lobbed the two-fly setup into the turquoise lie. Within several casts, the leader went taut, and I found myself hooked into a strong trout that dove into the depths of the pool.

Thankfully, the fish decided to stay in the run, and I also did my best to pressure it on a short line, and prevent the fighter from racing into the whitewater below. I brought a richly-colored Cuttbow into the shallows, and admired my first trout caught in New Mexico. The bruiser had taken the Crawbugger, measured a solid 16"with some girth to it, and featured a kype on the lower jaw, no doubt a male working its way upstream in preparation for spawning. The rich orange-red burning on the gill plates and the side stripe, sizable spots mostly on the dorsal, and a dusky golden-olive hue along the body indicated the hybrid origins of the fish, from both Rainbow and Rio Grande Cutthroat, and combined to produce a handsome specimen. In fact, all three of the bows I caught on this trip were hybrids, vividly colored, and some of the more striking trout I have caught recently (made more so perhaps by the relative starkness of the winter landscape).

The presence of these big healthy Cuttbows also made me muse on what the watershed must have been like before the introduction of exotic Rainbows--large pure-strain Rio Grande Cutthroat ranging up to 20" and more must have flourished in the lower Red and the Rio Grande at one time, and now only survive after a fashion in the hybrids that exist here. Nonetheless, these were large beautiful wild trout, and it was a pleasure to land a few and gaze at their riot of colors.

I continued along the banks of the Red, and came across this jade-colored crystalline pool. A Townsend's Solitaire landed briefly atop one of the lichen-encrusted boulders, and its plumage blended in well with the surrounding stone.

I fished here as well, and connected with another powerful trout in a deep slot just below the pool shown above. The bruiser again grabbed the Crawbugger, and jerked against the line, eventually tearing downstream through a couple of runs, requiring me to rock hop in pursuit. I managed to guide it into shallower water, worked the trout back towards me, and finally landed another spectacular Cuttbow.

This fish may have gone 18" and close to 3 lbs, and again sported deep crimson against a dusky golden olive background, with spots limited mostly to the tail end (this latter feature along with the look of the head definitely reminded me of Cutthroat); another stunner of a trout.

I returned the beauty to the chattering stream, and watched it rest near shore for several minutes, before regaining its strength and drifting back into the green hues of the currents, set against the rainbow of multicolored stones scattered across the streambed. It never ceases to amaze me how seamlessly trout can blend into their surroundings, and echo the features of the waters they inhabit.

The second Cuttbow above marked the last fish of the day, and I eventually made the trek back uphill to my campsite for the evening. I returned to the Red River the following day, and found high clouds covering the sky, accompanied by cooler temperatures--in fact, my reel froze several times, and I had to crank it back and forth to free up its action again.

I began near the confluence with the Rio Grande again, and fished upstream. I hooked one thick bow that looked to be 17-18", and raced into the whitewater below, quickly tying me off against a submerged boulder. I didn't spot any other fish in the lower stretch that I fished the previous day though, and wandered up, where the banks became steeper and more forested, and began to close in around the stream. I spotted another large dark fish finning away in the center of the run above, and coaxed it to grab one of my offerings (the Crawbugger again).

Oddly enough, the fish emerged as the same brute that I caught yesterday (the second one), recognizable by its coloration, spotting, and some distinct scarring on the lower left gill plate; I suspect the trout had moved upstream a little ways overnight. I snapped a couple of photos and quickly returned the Cuttbow once again to the rushing currents.

I continued my wanderings upstream, as the country became more rugged next to the small river. I soon came across an ideal-looking pool for a good-sized trout, featuring sheltered water and a foam line near the seam with the rushing whitewater of the main current.

I cast the two fly setup out to the foam line, and let it dead drift slowly through the deeper blue-green depths. A fish pulled back in short order, and I battled another healthy, strong wild trout (all the trout here seem to be powerful and tough, and well-versed in using the currents to their advantage), this one leaping a couple times.

The fish eventually materialized as a bright Brown Trout, stretching to about 17", and a pleasant change of pace from the abundant Cuttbows I had otherwise witnessed. The fish looked to be a female, and grabbed the smaller Peacock Soft Hackle. The Brown may have been wintering over here, although its pool looked like a perfect spot for a larger year-round resident. I have heard that Brown Trout use the lower Red River for spawning in the fall; like the Cuttbows, many of these are sizable, and some (of both species) can exceed 20" (I did not personally see any fish on this trip exceeding 18 or 19", but I have no doubt that some monsters lurk in this deceptively deep and productive stream).

The photo below shows the Red directly upstream of the run that yielded the Brown for me (this was the only Brown Trout I brought to hand on this trip, although I spotted at least one other around 15-16", further upstream).

Snow began to fall at this point, and I came across a fellow angler trudging back downstream. He seemed to be a veteran fly fisher of this stream, and mentioned that he had fished up through the stretch earlier in the day, and hooked a couple in the upper teens that had broken him off (his fishing activity might have accounted for the lack of fish seen below earlier in the day). He also reaffirmed that the Red holds some truly big trout at times (although landing them can be another matter). We bid eachother farewell, and I decided to fish and explore a bit farther up into the canyon, and try to connect with another trout or two before calling it quits with the deteriorating weather.

Fortunately, the snow only amounted to periodic flurries, and I hiked along above the swift stream, scanning for any larger trout hanging in the currents. I spied several, managed to hook and lose a couple, and spooked a few more. I also spotted a good trout near the tail of the deep pool framed by the Ponderosa Pine above, so I sneaked down below the lie, staying out of sight, and prepared to cast my two fly setup to the fish. I noticed that the trout in general in the lower Red did not seem to be particularly selective about fly patterns, but being wild trout in a clear stream, they did demand a high measure of stealth, and quickly spooked if they detected my presence. I hid behind a giant boulder below this run, and tossed the flies up into the pool, letting them sink and drift back towards me. On the second cast, the drift stopped abruptly, so I lifted the rod, and found another bruiser of a trout battling against the line. I played the fish aggressively, to prevent it from bolting below and tying me off. The tactic worked, and like a gift I soon brought one last gorgeous Cuttbow to hand.

This fish measured close to 17", and may have been the fattest of the trout I landed during the trip. Like the other Cuttbows, the coloration was vibrant, and this individual sported some orange cutt marks under the jaw as well (not readily apparent in these images). The trout also inhaled the Crawbugger.

I watched this fish recover quickly, and bolt back into the depths of the pool. I counted myself lucky to have landed a few of these challenging, glorious wild trout from this rugged wild river, all in the 16-18" range, and then scrambled over jagged boulders and uneven terrain, to head back to the trail and eventually the rim of the Rio Grande Gorge. By the time I made it to the top, the snow had returned in more force, and a thin layer had accumulated at my campsite. I rapidly packed up, and drove to Taos to stay in a hotel for the night, thankful for the luxuries of a heated room, shower, and bed.

I awoke the following morning to sunlight, and decided to head down to the Rio Grande upstream of Pilar, to fish a stretch of the river for a few hours before heading back to Flagstaff. Here are a couple images of the mighty river, flowing through its canyon; this section marks the lower end of the Gorge, and featured longer, slow-moving deep runs and riffles, as opposed to the abundant pocketwater upstream. Some good Browns and particularly Northern Pike are supposed to reside here, so I cast a variety of nymphs and oversized streamers, but to no success. Still, it was a beautiful spot, and contained some likely-looking runs.

All in all, I had a great trip exploring a small slice of Rio Grande country, and felt fortunate to witness some beautiful landscapes while catching a few impressive trout in the heart of winter. I certainly intend to return to this rugged and wonderful place, and hopefully explore more of the trout-rich possibilities in this region.