Oak Creek Angler

Grand Canyon--Trout Not Wanted Here, January 2012

2012-01-09T10:04:00.000-08:00

With the arrival of January and 2012, I figured I had better get the fishing season started off in the right direction, in more ways than one. This is the first entry I have posted in some time, and reflects my intention to publish current and future fishing expeditions in a timely manner. Moreover, I will be updating the site with trips preceding this year, starting with July 2010, so for those interested, stay tuned.

I began the year with a trek back into the Grand Canyon via the Bright Angel Trail in the first week of the month, to pay my respects to the stunning landscapes, the sweeping Colorado River, and of course Bright Angel Creek. As with every trip here, I was again struck by the immensity and grandeur of the place. Cliff formations seemed to loom and spread outward indefinitely in bold hues. Both of these images were taken in the vicinity of Indian Gardens, en route to the river below. The weather was marvelous, mild and sunlit throughout the trip--one of those times that an angler needs to find an excuse to get away and zen out on the water if possible, particularly in the winter.

Eventually, I made it down to the mighty Colorado--a section of Silver Bridge spans the river below. The river was running high and turbid from dam releases above, and runoff from sediment-laden upstream tributaries. Regardless of these conditions (or perhaps because of them), some fish could be coaxed to a streamer, given the right holding water and fly presentation.

Right around the corner, I was greeted once more by lovely Bright Angel Creek. This is the view downstream through the campground. As the picture attests, the campground was not full--the middle of winter offers a measure of solitude that is hard to find much of the rest of the year at this location.

I made the trip here for a few reasons, among them checking in on the current state of the trout fishery in the creek and river immediately downstream. As the following photo illustrates, a weir was in place across Bright Angel, just below the lower bridge crossing and campground.

A National Park Service sign pictured below informs visitors of the ongoing trout reduction program in the creek. This subject is deserving of discussion, and has already been covered by anglers on other blog sites, notably 111 Degrees West, The Trout Zone, and arizonafly.com. I will try to refrain from devoting too much time on the topic, particularly since the sites above write at least as eloquently about the subject as I could. Suffice to say, trout reduction efforts were reinstated in Bright Angel Creek in the fall and winter of 2010 after a short reprieve in 2008 and 2009, in the name of native fish restoration (particularly for the federally endangered humpback chub). Reduction efforts include the weir that captures brown and rainbow trout migrating up from the Colorado River to spawn in the creek, and electroshocking "treatments" upstream from the weir approximately two miles to the vicinity of the Phantom Creek confluence. These efforts are focused primarily in October-early February to coincide with brown trout spawning activity (although electroshocking is also periodically applied in the stream in spring and summer), and all trout (rainbows and browns) captured with these methods are killed by NPS staff and used for consumption.

Okay, so here is my soapbox for a paragraph, and then I will resume with writing about the fishing trip itself. For my part, I find it hard to stomach the reduction efforts, a response due in part to my admittedly biased personal perspective as a fly fisher that loves wild trout, even if they are introduced, nonnative species in the Grand Canyon. However, my reaction also stems from my perspective as a wildlife conservation professional, that sees a project aimed at attacking the symptoms but not the cause of an ecological problem--namely, trout are thriving in an altered, tailwater system that does not favor the long term survival of native species like the humpback chub that evolved in a turbid, warm water Colorado River unhindered by dams. Given that dams along the Colorado (and particularly Glen Canyon Dam upstream of the Grand Canyon) have no likelihood of being removed in the foreseeable future due to their numerous benefits to people, and agencies like the National Park Service have a mandate to protect and restore endangered species, trout are the easy target in the short term. Certainly, the humpback chub is a unique species, and deserves conservation and restoration efforts, but without the proper habitat (i.e. a restored, free-flowing Colorado River without dams), its long term existence is doubtful, regardless of whether trout populations are reduced or not. Consequently, I can't help feeling that the current management practices on Bright Angel Creek are a significant waste of time and resources, both for humpback chub and previously one of the finest wild trout fisheries in Arizona.

But enough of my personal convictions and opinions on the matter. The Glen Canyon Dam Long-Term Experimental and Management Plan (LTEMP) Environmental Impact Statement (EIS) is in the process of being prepared through the Department of the Interior, and public comments from the public are being accepted through the end of this month (January 2012). Regardless of how people stand on the matter, I would encourage folks to visit the site and contribute their suggestions on how the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon should be managed in the years to come.

So, on to the other and more immediate reasons I made the trip--fly fishing in a spectacular place, and hopefully still finding some beautiful wild trout on the end of my line. Following a fitful night of sleep at the campground, I began the next morning by prospecting with a large #4 Crawbugger on 4X in the tea-green, swirling flows of the Colorado. I drifted the streamer through a sheltered run, and received a firm pull on one cast as the fly swung back towards the shore. A large fish thrashed near the surface, trying to use its weight to break the tippet, but eventually I steered the bruiser towards shore, and brought a silvery female rainbow to hand.

The rainbow measured a solid 21" likely exceeded 3 lbs., and was reminiscent of a small steelhead in appearance and fighting ability--the Colorado River certainly breeds some impressive trout in its powerful currents.

And here the rainbow prepares to merge back into the river, to live and fight another day. Interestingly enough, the fish was relatively streamlined, and looked as if it had already spawned for the season, probably in the lowest reaches of Bright Angel Creek below the weir--from the looks of it, one less victim for the trout reduction efforts for the season.

I also ran across an older fisherman with several sons, all of them equipped with spinning outfits and rubber worm lures. I got to talking with the father for awhile, and quickly learned that he had fished the Colorado in the Canyon and up towards Lees Ferry for years, dating back to the '70s, and he provided a fascinating perspective at how the fishery has changed over the decades. He felt strongly about practicing catch and release around Bright Angel these days, given the current challenges facing the trout population--an encouraging sign. I returned up the creek from the confluence, and tied on a smaller, #10 Crawbugger to seek out more finned denizens. Sunlight had not quite found the bottom of the canyon at this point, and I was shivering from the chilly conditions.

I received the biggest surprise of the trip a bit later, in the form of a beautiful brown that taped in right at 22". The brute inhaled the Crawbugger after materializing from under a rock that hardly seemed large enough to conceal the fish. The brown charged about the stream, and yet somehow I was able to coax it to the bank in short order. Two significant points are worth noting here--the trout was healthy but somewhat slim (I guessed the fish as a female based on appearance, although that can be difficult at times with big browns), and definitely looked post-spawn. Even more intriguing was its location--without giving away specifics, I'll just say the brown was somewhere above the weir in the creek, meaning it had managed to negotiate the weir barrier to spawn, and had also avoided electroshocking. The tenacity of the fish alone made the brown deserving of release, although I wouldn't have considered keeping such a marvelous specimen in any case. I returned the big trout to the crystal clear Bright Angel Creek, and could only hope that the brown would continue to persist amidst the current management climate of trout eradication in this beautiful place.

I grabbed a quick breakfast at camp, packed myself a lunch, and proceeded up along the stream, warming up with the sun's rays that had finally penetrated the base of the Canyon.

Bright Angel Creek never ceases to be awe-inspiring in its beauty, and the simple, seemingly contradictory fact of a rushing cold stream flowing through thirsty canyon country.

Trout were relatively scarce along the lower stream through the campground and near Phantom Ranch, no doubt due to the trout reduction activities, and yet some fish could still be found, including a few that looked an awful lot like run-up rainbows from the Colorado River, such as the chunky 14" specimen in the photo above. Again, I suspect a few hardy fish managed to jump over the weir barrier rather than pass through it.

This lovely run produced a fine 13-14"rainbow that again lashed out at the Crawbugger.

And the 16" rainbow shown below was a classic spawner landed a short ways upstream of the creek confluence with the Colorado, that probably stood a slim chance of survival with the weir to greet it above. Regardless of its fate, the rainbow was a good one to end the day on, as darkness settled against the creek's music.

I started the following day early again, and wandered down towards the dull roar of the river.

This sweeping curve of the Colorado reflected the early light of the sun on the cliff tops, hundreds of feet above.

Trout from the river appeared in unexpected places, and utilized even small stretches of spawning habitat, including this scrappy 15" male rainbow, complete with a small kype and vibrant splashes of red on his gill plates and flanks.

I hiked up along Bright Angel Creek for much of the afternoon. The picturesque pool below screamed out trout, and yet appeared to be barren when I cast through the run.

The trout population did indeed seem lean along the lower two miles of Bright Angel Creek--the electroshocking efforts in the stream extend just upstream of the Phantom Creek confluence (shown in the image below), based on discussions I had with the Park fisheries biologist I ran into near the end of this trip. The biologist explained that Phantom Creek also experienced massive flash floods this past September that deposited large amounts of silt and debris in lower Bright Angel, causing significant fish kills of its own.

Some of the silt deposits were evident at the confluence, along with runs downstream that had been reconfigured. Ironically, the flash floods also appear to have created some new ideal-looking stretches of fine gravel for spawning.

Remarkably, I found a few small browns and one fat rainbow still present in Phantom Creek up to a terminal falls just upstream from the Bright Angel confluence.

I continued to make my way upstream along Bright Angel Creek, beyond the upper extent of trout removal activities, and soon the fishing improved dramatically for resident fish. The fish were somewhat smaller than their downstream counterparts, but vibrantly colored and demanding of a stealthy approach, particularly the good ones. Above, a foot-long rainbow fell for a #10 orange-bodied Neversink Caddis from a little plunge pool.

The fishing up in this section was a delight--dry flies, spooky trout in every lie affording cover and relief from the insistent currents, and a rushing canyon stream that embodied the simple joys of fly fishing.

The stream photo above shows a more detailed view of the preceding image. A good fish rose quietly in the soft water against the pink-hued boulder in the foreground. A decent hatch of #18 BWOs had been sputtering along throughout the afternoon, so I flicked a #16 gray parachute sparkle dun up into the foam line. Moments later, the trout sidled over and took the dry in an unhurried fashion.

A dark foot-long brown came to hand shortly after, and posed for the camera before release.

Another perfect-looking run spilled against a cliff wall, and I cast a #10 Neversink Caddis into the sheltered water at the head. The fly bobbed in the slack water, and then disappeared when a trout exploded on the attractor. This fish also materialized as a pretty 12" brown, but with more girth, few spots, and a pale golden sheen.

Every turn in the creek beckoned further exploration, but eventually the skies darkened with another approaching evening, and I hiked back down to the campground for my last night along Bright Angel for this trip.

I spent the next day making the ascent up and out from Bright Angel Creek and the Colorado River--the trail is swallowed up in the immense landscape.

I reflected on the current state of the Bright Angel fishery as I trudged upwards--despite the cards being stacked against them, at least some of the trout were finding ways to persist, and somehow I managed to land the two best fish I have caught to date from the Canyon. Once again, I felt fortunate beyond words just to be able to be in such a magnificent place, and find some beautiful wild trout no less.

Here is a photo of me taking a break at Indian Gardens on the hike out--weathered, tired, and content, and happy too because Regan met up with me at this point, to make the final trek upwards together. I took a picture of her as we got above the rest area, shortly before we headed back into the perpetual shade during the winter in the upper several miles of Bright Angel Trail.

And here is one final image that Regan took as we approached the South Rim, sunset painting the cliff formations in reds and golds. A great trip, and quite the beginning to a new fishing season.

Oak Creek, June 2010

2010-06-25T17:34:00.001-07:00

I fished sparingly along Oak Creek in the month of June, as the longer days and lower clear flows of summer took hold. My first outing along the stream occurred near the start of June, coinciding with my folks coming to visit Regan and I in Flagstaff.

I was able to spend a couple of days with my dad along Oak Creek, and shared a few favorite runs with him. It was his first time casting along the stream, and he quickly gained an appreciation for the beauty of the place, and also the associated challenging fishing conditions. He soon connected with a chunky, 14-15" brown in a deeper slot, on a #18 BH Thread and Copper on 5X, and guided the trout to the shallows after several dogged runs--his first Oak Creek fish, and a fine one at that.

My dad was my first fishing partner, and we shared many fond memories seeking out wild trout together in beautiful settings. We have not been able to fish as much with each other in the past few years, so it was even more of a joy to share this time with him in a place that has become special to me. He hooked several other vibrant Oak Creek browns on this day, including a scrappy fish in the low teens that threw the hook several runs upstream of the fish above, and a few in the 9-11" range in a pocketwater stretch further north in the canyon.

I managed to get away on my own near the end of June, and fished a new favorite reach. I fooled this football-shaped female brown of 16.5" on a #10 Crawbugger, dead-drifted near the head of a productive deeper run. A #18 BH Thread and Copper was trailing off of the streamer, but for whatever reason, all of the trout caught on this day showed a definite preference for the streamer; perhaps recently hatched fry and baitfish were particularly prevalent at this time.

I reached a nice pocketwater stretch upstream, featuring a few springs that bubble into the main flow, where I have had only limited success in the past.

I found a number of good-sized rainbows here on this day, in the 12-16" range; most of these were holdover hatchery fish from the looks of them (a shriveled fin or two and drab hues), although one 13-14" male showed striking coloration, and several other smaller individuals had the sleek forms and clean fins of wild trout. I suspect the contributing springs may have attracted these fish, and also the highly-oxygenated, rough-and-tumble nature of the reach. In any case, it was an unexpected pleasure to hook a number of fine, energetic trout in quick succession, all on the Crawbugger.

I also connected with a somewhat larger rainbow that I initially spooked from a shallow backwater; the trout charged upstream, then settled into the tail of a tumbling run, where I approached it more carefully, and convinced the fish to take a well-placed streamer.

The female measured 17-18", and I suspect this rainbow may also have been of hatchery origin (perhaps a brood fish released into the stream), based on the subdued coloration and a less-muscled, slim appearance; in any case, she was still a stubborn, strong trout, and the longest rainbow I have caught to date in Oak Creek.

I found one final fish of note on this late June day holding in a compact frothing pocket amidst rushing water and boulders. The trout was clearly large and dark in coloration--I assumed it may have been a big brood hatchery male rainbow. I tossed the Crawbugger into the protected lie (about the size of a large sink), and the fish quickly turned, large jaws opening, and confidently inhaled the streamer. The bruiser immediately shook its head in an attempt to throw the hook, then charged downstream, weaving between boulders to evade capture, with me in stumbling pursuit, trying my best to steer the fish clear of obstructions. Eventually, I got a good look at the fish, and realized I was attached to a mega-sized brown. I worked against the long trout some more, finally steered the lunker into my grasp, and gazed in awe at another magnificent Oak Creek brown, this one taping out right at 22".

The long jaws and kype indicated a big male, with deep burning hues of olive, bronze, orange and gold--the sort of fish I always hope to land, but never quite expect.

This brown was a bit slimmer and more streamlined for its size than some of its other kin that I have been fortunate enough to have caught recently--I suspect he may have been holding in the pocketwater looking for some unsuspecting hatchery bows to devour.

Regardless of the factors involved in the bruiser's presence in what I would call unusual holding water for a large cagey brown, it was yet another large impressive fish to savor in my memory, and marvel at briefly in the moment, before returning him to the crystalline flows of Oak Creek.

I spotted a fellow angler upstream soon after releasing the magnificent brown, a young great blue heron that still seemed a bit unsure about how to best capture a finned meal.

The majestic bird allowed me to pass by quietly at close proximity, and even tolerated a few photos.

Oak Creek offered up some treasures for me once more in the month of June, as summer truly took hold. As it turned out, I would not be graced with the presence of the stream again, until the arrival of fall in October and November. So June completed a great run of fly fishing for me along my adopted homewater (or perhaps more appropriately, the water that adopted me into its home), lasting through the spring and early summer. I did find more wild trout in unforgettable places in the following months, both in Arizona and beyond, as the ensuing entries will illustrate.

East Clear Creek, June 2010

2010-06-25T17:33:00.001-07:00

When it comes to Arizona, I still consider myself a novice angler; I have fished a handful of destinations with at least some success, but there are many more streams and rivers (not to mention lakes) that I have yet to explore.

One of the great things about the state is the number of rugged streams that beckon to the adventurous angler willing to put in a few miles of hiking, and offering potentially great fishing for streambred trout in wild settings. I decided to visit one of these, East Clear Creek, for the first time in early June. I had heard reports of good brown trout fishing at times, and figured it was time to test out the stream for myself.

East Clear Creek reminded me of the other major watershed draining north from the Mogollon Rim, Chevelon Creek, with its abundant stands of ponderosa pine, beautiful cliff walls flanking parts of the stream, and a wilderness setting once you made the descent into the stream canyon.

Some differences existed as well, including improved access in the form of several hiking access points, easier driving conditions, and closer proximity to human population centers. Consequently, I encountered more people on the day I hiked one of the trails down to the stream, although they thinned out completely (with the exception of one other fly fisherman headed in the opposite direction) once I wandered upstream and away from the access point (a pattern that seems to hold true with most fishing destinations). The flow seemed to be less than Chevelon as well, although the creek pooled up often, with some runs becoming more than deep enough to harbor sizable fish.

I began by catching a couple of small but chunky dark, wild rainbows on a bushy #10 Neversink Caddis in occasional small riffles and pocketwater, but focused most of my efforts in the deeper pools for the remainder of the bluebird, early summer day. I fished an attractor dry in some of the pools with little success, and finally settled on a #10 Crawbugger attached to 5X. Crayfish were thick here, no doubt providing a great food source for larger trout, but also posing a hazard to smaller aquatic flora and fauna; I noticed aquatic vegetation was sorely lacking along most of the streambed. I cast the streamer into likely holes, and used a slow strip and pause retrieve. This technique proved considerably more effective--I received strikes from several good fish in the mid to upper teens, judging from their flash and weight (presumably Browns for the most part), but unfortunately they all came free before being brought to hand.

I then happened upon one run that deepened against a cliff wall, and featured a ponderosa pine snag that had fallen into the water and created some cover. I took the time to slow down and observe, and found two large rainbow trout present; a surprise of sorts, as I expected bigger fish here to be browns. One of these was a large colorful male, the other a bruiser female in excess of 20" (one of the largest bows I have seen in the state); I suspect they may have recently been a spawning pair here this spring. In any case, the male was cruising in a circular pattern about the pool downstream of the snag, while the female seemed to stay put beside the downed timber. I made a number of short casts to both with the Crawbugger, trying to elicit a strike. The female seemed uninterested, but after much coaxing I eventually convinced the male to grab at the fly--fish on! The buck charged about the run, thrashing at the surface occasionally, and finally I managed to guide the fish to shore, where I gazed up close at a stunning rainbow, measuring a solid 20".

The male was garbed in vivd crimson on the gill plates and flanks, as the photos indicate, and showed some kype in the elongated jaws.

As it turned out, he was the one sizable fish caught on the day, and a great one at that. The rainbow felt like an unexpected gift, and on my first visit to East Clear Creek, no less.

I admired his hues and sleek form a bit longer as the trout revived, then pointed the brute back toward the pool, and watched as he finned back into the security of the shadowed run.

I suppose I am biased as a fly fishing nut that tends to prefer catch and release, but it only seems natural that a big wild spawner like the one above should be released, both to sustain the population, and because a rare large trout is so much more beautiful to behold in a stream than in a pan or on a wall mount, at least from my jaded perspective.

I passed by several other great-looking deep pools and runs, that almost certainly harbored a large trout or two, but I was unable to connect with any other fish for the day, and no browns came to hand on this visit (although I spooked a few in the 12-16" range).

I did cross paths with a fellow angler back up at the trailhead at day's end, who seemed to be a regular along this stream. He mentioned that some of the pools can really alive near dawn and dusk, when browns will rise freely for mayfly hatches and other available food items.

I encountered some gems along the creek that made the day richer, including the canyon treefrog above, and the wildflowers in a riot of color below.

Individual cactus blooms glowed amongst the rocky ground as I began the hike back up and out along the access trail, providing splashes of color and a way to end the day on a high note.

My first visit to East Clear Creek was one of those high quality, low quantity fishing days (generally the way I prefer it, given the choice) along a scenic canyon stream, harboring some intriguing fishing possibilities, combined with a measure of solitude--all qualities I treasure when pursuing trout. I suspect I will be revisiting this creek in the near future, in search of a few more of its finned inhabitants.

Oak Creek, May 2010

2010-06-25T17:32:00.000-07:00

(It has been some time (too long) since I posted my last entry, resulting in a serious backlog of trips that are in need of being written up. I have made a New Year's resolution to update my blog into the present, beginning with this post.)

The beginning of May along Oak Creek continued where April left off in terms of fly fishing--with a bang. The stream continued to run with a healthy flow, attesting to the strong winter snow pack that built up over the winter, and resulted in more trout actively feeding. I managed to find a few lovely Browns at the very start of the month, including two solid 20" fish, on consecutive days from different stretches.

The first of these bruisers was a fat hen, pictured above in two images, that I found in a beautiful riffle-run right against a large boulder, in the waning hours of daylight. The fish vaulted from the dark currents repeatedly, providing quite a fight before being brought to hand. The Brown was particularly memorable in two ways--I caught it after a full day of work (I repeatedly find myself counting my good fortune to live in such close proximity to a quality wild trout fishery, where I can pay the stream a visit for even a couple of hours on any given day), and the hen represented the downstream extent of wild trout to date for me along Oak Creek (somewhere between Grasshopper Point and Midgely Bridge).

I prospected along several reaches of Oak Creek the following day, amidst that marvelous time in spring when seemingly all life is growing and thriving, under scattered clouds and vivid blue skies.

I crossed paths with this well-camouflaged canyon treefrog, no doubt with thoughts of feeding and breeding on its mind, consistent with the season.

I fished the head of one productive pool early in the day, and connected with the second 20" fish in two days, this one a male that charged about the lengths of the run, and proved difficult to subdue. The male sported rich coloration along his flanks, as shown in the photograph above.

The head detail also shows the small #18 Beadhead Thread and Copper lodged in the upper jaw--both this male and the female Brown shown earlier struck this pattern. Size 2o blue-winged olives hatched sporadically on these days; I suspect these larger trout took advantage of the nymphal stage of this food source, and took my fly as a reasonable imitation of the naturals. I used the little nymph as a dropper, tied to a larger Crawbugger as a point fly and source of weight, and dead-drifted the double rig on a short line through likely deep runs.

I found several other good fish in the feeding mood on this early May day, including a spooky Brown rising quietly near the brushy bank, near the tail of this glassy run. I fooled it with the most delicate cast I could muster, using a #20 BWO Parachute Sparkle Dun on a long leader ending in 5X, and found myself attached to an acrobatic, chunky 14-15" trout. The fish zipped about the run, but unfortunately the fly simply popped out of its mouth, ending the battle prematurely with a long distance release. Such is the unpredictable nature of cagey older trout and fly fishing, and the fish lost can often be at least as memorable as the ones landed.

I explored various reaches of Oak Creek throughout the next couple weeks, some of them old favorites, and others that were relatively new to me. Through it all, I was reminded once again of the stunning beauty of this place, and the diversity of the stream's moods and character.

Stream flows continued to drop and clear as May progressed, approaching summer conditions, and the trout became correspondingly warier. Better trout seemed to lose some caution during low-light periods of the day, and in runs affording shade, but I still managed to spook my fair share of fish (not a hard thing to do along Oak Creek).

I found myself poking along the edges of the stream while fishing (one of the joys of pursuing trout are all of the other unexpected gems that one can uncover), and discovered other aquatic denizens wrapped up in the web of this environment, including the tiny mayfly nymphs pictured above, and a school of speckled dace hovering in the sunlit shallows of a run below.

On one visit with Regan to the upper creek near the West Fork confluence, she spotted a subadult narrrow-headed gartersnake sunning itself on a large slab of red sandstone.

This aquatic gartersnake has suffered population declines across its range (it is actually one of the animals I spent time surveying for in my work this year); the fact that this species still exists along upper Oak Creek attests to the quality and health of the watershed. Moreover, sightings like these always make fly fishing more rewarding and meaningful for me, and provide a lens into the natural world that few other activities seem to achieve.

On another mid-May day, I fished Oak Creek for a few hours in late afternoon, just as the sun left the water, and the resulting shade invigorated hatching insects and the fish. Midges, a few #16 brown caddis, #20 BWOs, and some #10-12 pale tan drakes all made their presence as the afternoon crept towards sunset. I brought a few decent fish to hand in the 9-12" range by casting a variety of dries, including a #16 orange-bodied Neversink Caddis, and both #12 and #16 tan Parachute Sparkle Duns. The latter pattern fooled a subtle riser in the foam-flecked eddy above, after I took my time approaching quietly, kneeling down, and casting into the backwash.

I was rewarded with another beauty of a Brown, right at 13"; not the largest fish I've caught recently, but a difficult trout, and among the more satisfying I was able to admire briefly in hand this month, before watching it revive and blend back into the clear, multifaceted currents.

Generally, as the month progressed, larger trout became tougher, but the number of smaller fish landed increased, including a day spent wading up through pocketwater just below the Junipine area, where I brought 8 or 10 to hand, mostly smaller Browns, along with a couple stockers and one wild Rainbow, and lost a couple more Browns in the low teens.

This fish went a good foot, struck a sunken #16 Parachute Sparkle Dun on 5X from a neat plunge pool, and stood as the best fish landed on the day mentioned above.

I was able to fish once more later in May, again for the last few remaining hours of daylight, as the shadows grew long and slanted across the dancing stream. I noticed several different species of caddis flying about, so I tied on a #16 Deer Hair Caddis to a long length of 5X, and cast the dry through likely-looking pockets and runs. I quickly caught a fat little Brown from a riffle head, missed a good fish from a deeper run, and rose another trout from a nice shaded pocket, protected overhead by a leafy canopy of hardwoods.

This latter fish materialized from the dark sheltered water, big jaws breaking the surface to inhale the caddis pattern, and vanished in a toilet bowl flush. The trout was larger than I expected given the holding water (although the one constant in Oak Creek seems to be the unexpected), and it proceeded to vault free from the stream once, then race downstream, weaving between rocks and logs, as I rock-hopped after it. Finally, I coaxed it to shore, and gazed down at another spectacular Oak Creek Brown, this one a good 19" male with a developing kype.

This Brown was vibrantly colored like so many that call Oak Creek home, in rich hues of red, orange and gold that echoed some of the surrounding landscape. The trout marked my best dry fly-caught fish to date on the stream. Here are a couple more looks at the bruiser, before I let him go on his way, hopefully to grow larger and produce more magnificent wild trout. He provided a great exclamation point to another generous month from Oak Creek, a stream that always instills in me a profound sense of wonder and appreciation.

Oak Creek Browns, mid-late April 2010

2010-04-30T08:20:00.001-07:00

Brown trout have always held a certain mystique for me, particularly larger specimens. I grew up in Portland, Oregon, and had the good fortune to be surrounded by abundant water, and spectacular fishing, for wild, native trout no less. Brown trout were often in short supply however, particularly on the western side of the state, and remained an intriguing yet elusive quarry for the most part.

Only in the last few years have I been able to pursue these fish in a more dedicated manner, and my education on Browns grew in leaps and bounds with forays to Pennsylvania, Maryland, eastern Tennessee, Utah, and particularly Arizona, in the past several years.

Arizona is gifted with a number of marvelous Brown trout streams and lakes, many with the potential to grow some trophy-sized fish, and I have felt fortunate beyond words to have sampled a few of these waters as of late. Oak Creek has probably provided me with more insight into the nature of Brown trout than any other single location, because of the frequent visits I have been able to make due to the stream's close proximity. If anything, the creek has only reaffirmed Browns in my mind as some of the more fascinating, unpredictable and challenging trout to be found, and heightened my anticipation for pursuing them any chance I get.

Spring was a great time to be along the lovely reaches of Oak Creek, for all the life bursting forth, and in my trout-addled mind, for the chance to seek out some bruiser Browns, that seemed to be invigorated with higher stream flows and increased insect activity. Such conditions created one of those rare windows of opportunity when it comes to pursuing Brown trout (the only other comparable period of time being fall), and resulted in some of the larger fish acting marginally less wary, even vulnerable to striking at a well-presented fly, if stealth, observation, and good technique (and perhaps a good dose of luck) were employed.

I found that scenario to be the case more times than I deserved in the latter half of April, including one deep pool that I have cast through with little success in the past, but as good timing would have it, I spied a mega-sized trout from a higher vantage point that flashed out from under a large boulder against the bank in mid-April, and then vanished underneath it again like a dream. I tied on a #10 Crawbugger, sneaked down to the stream's edge, and flipped the streamer near the submerged boulder, allowing it to sink near where the hefty trout was lurking. Like magic, a massive dark shape shot out from beneath the stone, hesitated a moment, and then inhaled the fly. The big fish proceeded to head-shake and use its bulk to the full extent about the deep pool, causing my 9' 5 weight to double over. Finally, after repeated efforts by the bruiser to tie me off, I towed in an impressive, heavy male Brown trout, stretching to 22".

The big curving jaws of the beast left no doubt in my mind that this fish was primarily a predator, an image that was strengthened by the Crawbugger hanging out of its mouth, as shown below.

This fish ranked among the best Browns I have caught, and took the place of the largest one landed to date in Oak Creek (although even this brute would be edged out by another, as detailed later in this post). It occurred to me that a Brown of this size, in a stream like Oak Creek, didn't grow to these dimensions by being careless, and I spent a moment gazing at the magnificent trout, just savoring my good fortune. Fooling the big ones can be an uncommon event (at least for me), but successfully hooking and landing such a fish makes the long pursuit of these lunker Browns that much sweeter.

I took a few more photos of the mega Brown (including the photo above, and a head detail shown at the beginning of this entry), and then took care in releasing the fish, making sure that he regained his strength.

The trout finned away from me, and quickly settled on the stream bottom. I had the distinct impression that the fish was staring back up at me, perhaps sizing me up, and vowing not to be so easily fooled again; it was probably my imagination, but big Browns can have that effect at times.

As April matured into its later weeks, the high flows of runoff gradually but consistently dropped and cleared, and coincided with a flurry of aquatic insect activity, including several small mayfly species (such as blue-wing olives and tricos, pictured above and below, respectively), midges, small brown stoneflies, and even occasional green drakes.

The small dark mayflies in particular hatched prolifically at times, drew fish to the surface on occasion, and seemed to provide a significant food source in their nymph stage. I encountered an increasing number of fish feeding actively below the surface, and used a double nymph rig with success throughout much of late April, consisting of a long-shank #10 Crawbugger as the point fly, attached to a #18 Beadhead Thread and Copper as a dropper (essentially my take on a Zebra Midge, with a brown thread body, fine copper wire ribbing, a small tungsten beadhead, and a curved caddis nymph hook). I suspect the little nymph imitated many of the small food items drifting through the currents in the spring, including mayfly nymphs, microcaddis, and midge larvae, and in any case fooled the lion's share of sizable Brown trout that I encountered.

I experienced some wonderful fishing near the end of the month on several outings, including one day where I began by working my way up through a favorite section of Oak Creek, and caught a handful of fine Browns ranging from 13-15".

The settings never failed to be anything less than lovely, almost heartbreaking, and finding wild trout to match felt at times like almost too much to ask for.

It still strikes me as mysterious and wonderful how such trout can echo the hues and character of the watersheds they occupy, and I suppose it should come as no surprise that many of Oak Creek's Brown trout are uncommonly beautiful, but they still startle me with their vivid colorations and sleek forms.

Most of these fish grabbed the small Beadhead Thread and Copper, including the trout pictured above and below, from two different angles.

I recognized most of these fish as ones I have caught in months past (attesting to the power of catch and release in maintaining a thriving wild trout population), including a beauty of a 15" male pictured below, one of the first really nice Oak Creek Browns I fooled, in late summer/early fall last year.

Beyond the fly fishing itself, Oak Creek was a marvelous place to be during the spring, with the strengthening sunlight awakening all sorts of plants and animals.

The Tiger Swallowtail butterfly above and Ornate Tree lizard below were but two examples of creatures that enriched a day along the stream, and revealed themselves to the observant.

On this same day, I headed to a different location later in the spring afternoon, a stretch of Oak Creek that I have just recently been exploring and discovering.

I found fewer fish in this stretch, but managed to entice a couple, including this richly-covered, chunky trout of 16-17", that again took the #18 Beadhead Thread and Copper.

I continued upstream, surrounded by picture-perfect weather, and eventually came upon a deep chute of a run, a ways above the pocketwater shown below.

I drifted the Crawbugger and Beadhead Thread and Copper through the depths of the run, and within several casts, received a thud of a strike, that transformed into the sort of ponderous head-shaking and heaviness that any angler recognizes as a big fish. A torpedo of a trout proceeded to tear about the run and pool below, twice threatening to break off, and vaulted through the air in one timeless moment (always an impressive sight when a 20+" trout goes airborne), but fortunately I was able to hold on, and soon guided a lunker of a Brown to shore, elongated curving jaws with kype and all.

This magnificent male Brown stretched to 23", surpassing the bruiser Brown from earlier in this post, and became the largest Brown I've landed from Oak Creek (and in general in my fishing excursions) to date.

Interestingly enough, the big fella also took the small beadhead nymph, disputing the reputation of large Browns only moving for big ugly nymphs and streamers.

Here are a couple of final images of the beautiful fish, before I watched the trout revive and return to his lair.

It occurred to me that this Brown might be kept if caught by some people, to be consumed or eaten without a second thought. Individual fish may not matter in the greater scheme of things, and of course I am a biased fly angler and trout nut, but keeping this kind of rare, old and cagey specimen seems unthinkable and short-sighted to me, and just knowing such trout inhabit Oak Creek make it a richer place, full of mystery and wonder. At any rate, I sat and watched the bruiser recover in the run, and considered my good fortune yet again in April, to successfully hook, land, and release another stunner of a Brown from Oak Creek.

I set out to cast along the stream once more at the end of the month, this time wading up along a reach of Oak Creek new to me (always a pleasure in my opinion to explore new water). Again, the weather was brilliant, the water in healthy, post-runoff condition (still featuring a slight tint, but with further improved clarity and decreased volume), and life in a myriad of forms, bursting from the seams of the banks and the stream itself.

And once more, I found a few more vivid Browns in a feeding mood, if stealth and a light presentation were employed. The trout above measured a solid 17", and the mouthpiece showed evidence of a previous hookup and release (whether intentional or not). Truth be told, this particular fish rested in a nice run that probably sees hundreds of people a year pass by (or through) it, and served as a testament to the staying power of Brown trout in watersheds, even in places that may see heavy traffic at times.

On this late April day, I wandered along a variety of pockets, pools, and riffles, prospecting with the same double nymph rig I employed on previous visits, and discovered relatively few fish, but when found, they were good trout, in fine condition, and seemed willing to strike at the #18 BH Thread and Copper.

The richly-colored Brown trout shown above (and a closeup head detail below) measured close to 18", and was one of four fish landed for the day. I managed to spot him in the soft water behind a partially submerged boulder, next to a sweeping current, towards the tail of a significant run. In fact, the brute held in a location that I would not have immediately guessed for a fish of its dimensions, but Browns can be anything but predictable, especially in a complex stream like Oak Creek, and good fish-sighting skills can come in handy in these situations.

I dragged another good fish from the depths of a pool further upstream (and another spot that receives heavy use from human visitors), a 16" hen that again showed a preference for the little beadhead nymph.

I continued upstream, passing by some likely-looking pools and runs, that nonetheless yielded nothing in the way of trout (which may or may not have suggested an absence of the fish, especially in the watery puzzle that is Oak Creek).

Even in runs that seemed devoid of trout, Oak Creek was unfailingly lovely and enchanting, as usual, to the point of being distracting in the best way.

Eventually, I came upon a dark frothing run, with currents that funneled together near an outstretched log--just the sort of spot a good Brown might appreciate for cover and access to drifting food.

As luck would have it, a good-sized drake drifted through the currents, and the curving form of a nice Brown trout exploded from the water, only to miss the chunky mayfly on its way back into the run. I had left my larger mayfly dries back at home in another fly box (how often has that situation occurred to anglers everywhere?), so I tied on a tan-bodied, #10 Neversink Caddis, and made a short cast up into the broken water. After a few drifts, the Brown exploded on the bushy fly, and the fight was on, with me steering the fish away from the log as much as possible.

The fish came to bay finally, and materialized as another broad-shouldered, handsome wild Brown, this one right at 16".

I had to admire the warm gold, olive, and rusty hues of this male Brown, helping to produce yet another beautiful trout, that somehow seemed to emulate the colors and features of Oak Creek so well.

So, April approached an end for me along the banks of Oak Creek, a generous time full of memories of fantastic fishing, the ascendancy of spring and all the buzz of life associated with it, and perhaps another window into the workings of elusive Brown trout. Like the Common Black Hawk pictured below, the month helped me gaze a little deeper into the rhythms of the stream, and if anything gave me new-found appreciation for the mysteries of Oak Creek.

Oak Creek, early April 2010

2010-04-30T08:19:00.000-07:00

Spring can announce its arrival in an infinite number of ways--the insistent call of a wren, leaves unfurling from the outstretched limbs of a sycamore, growing light against red canyon walls.

As the snows began to recede from a strong winter in northern Arizona over the past few months, stream flows inevitably mounted, producing that condition known to all anglers familiar with running water, runoff.

I visited Oak Creek often amidst these elevated flows, casting here and there, hoping and waiting for improving conditions, and all along noting increasing signs of spring taking hold, such as the Ornate Tree Lizard basking on a log above, and flowers opening to meet the sun's warmth below.

Eventually, the waters seemed to drop and clear, just slightly, and the creek felt ready to reawaken with the activities of trout...or perhaps more truthfully, I simply couldn't stand it any longer, and started off the new fishing season in earnest, putting in the time and renewed focus along my adopted homewater.

The month of April marked the beginning of a marvelous stretch for my angling endeavors along beautiful, multifaceted Oak Creek, and for me, felt like the true emergence of spring. I explored numerous reaches throughout the season, from above the West Fork through and below Grasshopper Point, both old favorites seen in a different light, and a number of new stretches that at times yielded some fantastic results (and always provided more insight into this demanding stream).

I began the month casting through runs of one section that I had only briefly (and unproductively) explored last summer, on a tip from a fellow angler, and started off with a bang in the run above, drifting a #10 Crawbugger through the high, discolored currents.

A strong fish grabbed the streamer in the middle of the drift, and proceeded to charge about the run, using the flows to its advantage. Eventually, I pulled an 18-19" Brown to the bank, a female by the look of it (and one of the better fish I have managed to land in Oak Creek), and snapped a few pictures before returning the trout to her lair.

I approached another nearby run downstream, with a likely-looking pocket created by a well-placed sandstone boulder. As the photo indicates, the creek was still heavy and frothing with runoff, creating challenging conditions for wading and fishing. While some anglers shy away from these conditions, it has been my experience that the higher water and reduced visibility of spring seem to invigorate the trout, particularly larger Browns, creating more security for fish to actively seek out potential food. In any case, I cast the Crawbugger up against the face of the rock, allowing it to sink and stripping occasionally.

Again, a good fish struck at the fly, materializing as a beauty of a male Brown, right at 16", belly glowing golden in the strengthening spring light.

Yet another fine Brown came to hand in a pool in the vicinity of the above fish, and stood as the third and final trout of a productive early spring day. I wandered upstream, and cast over other likely pools and runs, but to no avail--the fishing that had begun with a bang finished with nary another trout seen or hooked. Fly fishing can be like that sometimes, reflecting the moody, unpredictable nature of the environment, particularly an ever-changing, complex system like Oak Creek, populated with moody, unpredictable Brown trout. I suppose it is that unknown, shifting quality beyond human control that helps keep me drawn to fishing, always tinged with the hope that something unexpected and wonderful could happen, often in the fleeting form of a wild trout.

I made my way up through a pocket-riddled stretch of creek a bit later in April, and found few willing takers on this given day, although the settings were glorious.

One fine Brown of 10 or 11" clobbered a #12 Beadhead Krystal Hare Nymph, and posed briefly for a photograph.

Runoff slowly receded in Oak Creek as the days approached the middle of April, but the flows still remained noticeably higher and tinted as compared with summer and fall.

I revisited a favorite reach of water in the second week of April, with many of the hardwoods still lacking leaves. I spotted a few Browns here and there, fooled a few, and spooked plenty more.
I came upon a familiar run, that contains a deceptively deep slot created by a current confluence flowing right past a root wad of a large tree. It is an easy spot to overlook, but is just the sort of location that would seem likely to hold a good fish, perhaps even a large cagey Brown, under the right circumstances.

I tied on a #10 bushy Neversink Caddis, and trailed a #16 Copper Emmons (my take on a Copper John, consisting of peacock sword tails, fine copper wire for ribbing, a few turns of peacock herl followed by starling for the collar, and a tungsten beadhead) off the end on 5X. I haven't fished a hopper-dropper setup with much enthusiasm in the past, probably because it strikes me as being too similar to indicator and bobber fishing, which I usually prefer not to employ (not really for any good reason, other than being one of those goofy preferences that every angler seems to develop in their own way over time, to fit their own justifications). However, in this instance, the setup seemed to fit the conditions perfectly, so I set aside my preconceived notions, cast up and across, right into the main current seam, and watched the dry drift downstream. As the fly passed near the root wad, it disappeared, and I immediately lifted the rod, to feel a shuddering, unyielding weight on the far end of the line. A powerful fish raced up and down through the extent of the run, causing my reel to scream in protest, and I soon saw the shape of a big Brown, doing its best to part ways with the tippet. Fortunately, the tippet held, and after an extended battle, I guided the brute to the shallows, revealing a hefty, long-jawed Brown just exceeding 20".

The extended jaws and bulk of the bruiser attested to the undoubtedly predatory nature of an older male Brown trout, but in this case, the fish moved for the small Copper Emmons, probably taking it for a small stonefly or blue-winged olive nymph. Note the fly wedged in the corner of the mouth below.

This fish went down as my largest Brown caught from Oak Creek to date, and the first to pass the 20" mark; needless to say, I felt exultant and satisfied to gaze at such a beautiful, impressive trout, before taking time to revive the fish, and then watched him strum back towards the run, fading back into the shifting hues of the currents. This fish also reaffirmed for me the reputation of Brown trout achieving considerable sizes, even in relatively small stream settings, and made me ponder on what other bruisers might be lurking under some of the countless boulder-strewn runs throughout the creek. Remarkably, I managed to cross paths with a few more of these elusive larger Browns throughout the spring, as detailed in some of the upcoming entries.

Grand Canyon, March 2010

2010-04-01T16:07:00.000-07:00

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

2010-02-05T12:42:00.000-08:00

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.

Oak Creek, January 2010

2010-01-08T19:05:00.001-08:00

Winter can be a fickle time for fly fishing in many watersheds, and dependent on the whims of the weather. Oak Creek proved no different in this regard during January, and I tried to make the most of windows of mild, sunny days wedged between snowstorms.

Fortunately, I enjoyed some beautiful weather towards the beginning of the month (before the major storms of the season shut down fish activity for the remainder of the month, not to mention February), and fit in a few days to prowl along the banks of Oak Creek in search of wary trout.

I managed to find some success on a single day, coinciding with a Blue Wing Olive hatch in the afternoon, and landed my first (three) fish of the year, beginning with the lovely 18" hen Brown shown above. Fittingly, this was the same large trout I have caught and released on several previous occasions (reaffirming once again the benefits of catch and release within a wild trout stream, especially one like Oak Creek, where the larger fish are relatively uncommon, and precious in maintaining the health of the overall trout population, not to mention providing an opportunity for other anglers). I fooled the Brown on an olive #20 Parachute Sparkle Dun (as pictured below), cast from a crouching position up into a nice run.

I caught two other fish on this particular day, and they were both memorable in part because they came from likely runs that have not yielded trout for me in the past.

The first of these fish materialized from the glide above, near the tail by the dead grass clumps. The BWO hatch was still in progress, and I spotted a dark form that quietly nosed above the crystalline current to intercept a drifting mayfly. I tied on a tan #16 Parachute Sparkle Dun, and flicked the pattern upstream. On the second cast, the dry drifted down into the right spot, and the trout calmly rose to inhale it--always a timeless moment in fly fishing, both nerve-wracking and wonderful.

The riser thrashed about, and then charged downstream, bolting for cover under red sandstone boulders. I steered the fish away from the snag-ridden structure, and pulled a dark, vivid male Brown Trout to shore, this one measuring a solid 14"--a great fish any time of year, and certainly in the heart of winter. Note the dry fly emerging from the upper jaw in both images.

I continued upstream after watching the handsome fish return to its run, and came across a female Common Merganser near the head of a deep pool, no doubt also searching for unsuspecting trout.

I made my way to another deeper run, and approached the head, framed by a snag that had recently fallen into the stream from a winter storm (the tree swept downstream later in the month, taken by elevated flows during the heaviest storm of the season).

The Baetis hatch was waning, but some duns were still drifting down through the currents. I sat and watched the run, and finally saw a subtle rise, that appeared to be subsurface. I tried casting a couple of dries through the run, with no response, so I switched to a #20 BH Copper Emmons, and let it sink slowly under the surface. Sure enough, the line tightened, I lifted the rod gently, and found myself attached to another strong fish. This trout proved stubborn, and dove repeatedly to the depths of the run (but thankfully didn't make for the snag downstream).

Eventually, I coaxed the fish to shore, and gazed down at another fabulous wild Oak Creek Brown, this one just a shade beneath 15", and a classic-looking, gold-bellied mature male.

There is something satisfying about getting to know a stream, especially a complicated and often demanding one like Oak Creek, and uncovering some of its treasures in the form of wily older Brown Trout, in runs that have eluded me in the past, makes the process even sweeter. Wild Browns in such places are endlessly fascinating to me; they can be cautious and discerning to the point of impossibility, and then at times they seem to let down their guard (a little), and become marginally catchable, if all goes right. Moments like these are one of the reasons that keep me returning to fish again, and continue the learning curve.

Here is one last image of the Brown Trout, as I prepared to slide him back into the icy currents, and watched the fish descend back to his watery lair.

The final Brown above marked the last fish I caught for January, and while I did spot a few other spooky trout on following outings, I was unable to convince them to take my offerings.

I did enjoy more sunlit weather though, and captured a few more images of beautiful Oak Creek winding its way through breathtaking settings. I feel fortunate beyond words to call this stream a regular haunt, every day I wander along its banks. Even when no trout are brought to hand, winter provides a measure of solitude and peace here that is hard to match in the warmer and busier months, when the masses inevitably return.

I included one last image, of a small Blue Wing Olive perching precariously atop my thumb, embodying the promise of more hatches to come, and the living cycle in general starting anew, with the advent of spring not so far away.

Oak Creek, December 2009

2009-12-22T11:29:00.001-08:00

The month of December arrived at Oak Creek, and with it the unmistakable feel of winter. A chill seemed to accompany the air, the days were shorter and darker, and the hardwood tree limbs were increasingly barren of the once brilliant foliage of fall.

I wandered along the banks of the stream several times in the final month of the year, and found the fishing to be spotty and often slow concerning trout activity, but still with some bright moments of finding feeding fish, even risers, and bringing some fine wild Browns to hand. The images above depict Oak Creek a short distance downstream from Slide Rock State Park, at the beginning of December. Some fine-looking runs and pools are interspersed here, but trout were mostly lacking on this day.

Some of the fine insect hatches from the fall continued into this month, in somewhat less prolific fashion, and Blue Winged Olives still appeared in decent numbers most days, in the middle of the afternoon. The mayfly above, about a size 20, was a typical specimen.

I found this run on the same early December day featuring the photos earlier, and noticed the pale gravel of recent redds near the grassy bank--a sure sign that mature Brown Trout had been in the vicinity, and engaged in spawning. I lobbed a brown #10 Crawbugger on 5X against the bank, and let it drift under the grasses, in the hopes that a hungry post-spawner fish might still be present in the run. Sure enough, a dark form emerged from the cover, followed the streamer, and then inhaled it. The brute proceeded to thrash about, and made a few runs towards the security of the bank, before being guided to the shallows.

I gazed down at a fantastic male Brown Trout, just over 14", exhibiting a slight kype and dark, rich coloration. The belly was black, a characteristic I have noticed before on Browns during spawning season, especially on the males.

I admired the russet and dusky golden hues of the trout, then watched him glide towards the far bank, and fade back into the currents. As it happened, this was the only fish I brought to hand on the day, a pattern that repeated itself more than once for me in the winter along Oak Creek. On some days, I was unable to land even a single fish, but these lean pickings were in tune with the season, and it made every fish caught that much more vivid, and a moment to appreciate.

A large redd is evident in the picture above, at the tail of one long glassy pool. I found myself scanning the water as much as fishing during this time, and coming across recent evidence of spawning activity by Brown Trout was both comforting and enlightening, and another clear sign of the season.

I prospected for winter fish near Slide Rock State Park a few times later in the first week of December. I was greeted with several bluebird days, featuring pleasant mild temperatures.

This was a fine, dark Brown close to 14", that rose for a tan #16 Parachute Sparkle Dun on 5X. The fish held in a small pocket, and was one that I had stung previously, but had not been successful in landing. Many of the better wild Browns in Oak Creek seem to share this trait for me, where they require repeated visits and attempts to successfully approach and fool. I feel as if they demand that an angler really get to know their individual preferences and habits to avoid spooking them, and then maybe they can be convinced to take a well-presented fly. In any case, each nice trout here is always memorable, and I was fortunate enough to land two others on this particular winter day.

These photos show the additional fish brought to hand on this day. The Brown above measured about 18", and was a female that I have actually landed twice before from a favorite run, in previous months. She seemed a bit slimmer this time, probably due to recent spawning activity, but still sported brilliant coloration, and revived quickly, to descend back into her crystalline run. The fish above swallowed an olive #20 Parachute Sparkle Dun, no doubt resembling a natural from a decent Blue Wing Olive hatch that occurred in the afternoon. Most of these mayflies were a size 20, but some individuals were closer to a 16.

The third fish caught on the day is pictured above, a toothy-jawed male Brown of 13" that quietly rose for a tan #16 Parachute Sparkle Dun from the tail of a glassy pool (again, a fish that I had unsuccessfully tried for in the past, but got it right this time). As with many other Brown Trout from this stream, he displayed beautiful coloration, made more so with the spawning season.

I included a couple of photogenic pools in the vicinity that I have photographed more than once in the past, to show the beautiful light, and the increasingly stark appearance of deciduous trees and bushes quickly losing the remainder of their leaves.

On one particular day, I was unable to coax any fish to my offerings, but I did come across one large (18" or so) Brown Trout that I spooked from the shallows of a deep pool. The bruiser featured a distinctive dark, almost black coloration on its right side, from the head to halfway back along its body, and proceeded to retreat in an unhurried fashion to the streambed, and wedged itself between two rocks. I drifted several streamers and nymphs past it, with no response, but did snap an image of the trout, as shown below. I always suspected a large Brown resided in this spot, but this was the first time that the fish had decided to show itself, and I intend to keep an eye out for the brute when passing by this run in the future.

I caught a single fish a couple days later along Oak Creek, materializing as a 13" female Brown Trout, with striking spotting and hues. Again, this fish rose for a #16 Parachute Sparkle Dun during Blue Wing Olive activity in mid-afternoon, and again, I finally managed to hook and land this particular fish after repeated unsuccessful efforts in the last few months.

The shade grows long over a likely yet challenging run near the Halfway Picnic Area.

Here are a couple of images of previously productive water between Junipine Crossing and Bootlegger Campground.

This section did not yield fish on the day I cast there in December, but I know this area will reawaken with the returning warmth and bounty of spring.

I took this shot of the stream later in the month, actually on my last day of fishing for the season.

No trout showed themselves here, and as afternoon waned, I began to suspect that I would end the year on a fishless day.

However, I worked my way upstream, and came upon a long, flat run, where I have spooked fish more than once before, and tried to assume a low profile, while creeping up on the tailout to search for holding trout. As luck would have it, a good fish was holding against the streambed, and a Baetis hatch was winding down, so I ended up casting a #20 Copper Emmons (with an olive wire body) upstream, and let the little nymph drift back towards the trout. I saw the fish turn slightly and flash, and I instinctively tightened the line, and raised my rod. The trout had taken the fly, and charged about the run, resisting my efforts to subdue it. Eventually I pulled the fighter to shore, and appreciated another great Oak Creek Brown, and my last fish of 2009.

The Brown measured a solid 16", appeared to be a male, and like other trout caught recently, he exhibited some striking coloration and spotting.

I have mentioned this in previous posts, but the Brown Trout I have caught from Oak Creek are some of the more beautiful members of this species I have had the pleasure to catch. A head detail is shown above, and I included another full body shot below; note the tiny beadhead nymph in the top of the mouth.

And here is one last image of the Brown, as I prepared him for release, to feed and grow and perhaps be fooled another day. It was a great way to end a year filled with some spectacular fly fishing, and a fine finish to my first season spent along my new home water, Oak Creek.

Grand Canyon, November 2009

2009-12-22T11:28:00.001-08:00

The state of Arizona is gifted with some wonderful landscapes and trout destinations, and the Grand Canyon ranks among the top in both regards. While the magnificent scenery of the place is known to many, the fishery has received less attention, simply because of the difficulty of accessing the Colorado River and associated tributaries. The Grand Canyon offers a true wilderness fishing experience for those adventurous anglers that are determined, and prepared for the physically demanding conditions it requires.

I decided to visit the Grand Canyon during the last week of November, and made the descent to the mighty Colorado to explore, revel in the awe-inspiring surroundings, and of course prospect with the rod and reel for (I hoped) some spirited wild trout.

I hiked down along the Bright Angel Trail, one of the most frequently used corridors in Grand Canyon National Park, but still a challenging path to negotiate. The trail drops close to a mile in elevation, over 10 miles along its length, on the way to Bright Angel Campground (my destination for the next couple nights), and features multiple switchbacks that can put some strain on the knees and feet.

I passed by Indian Gardens, 4.5 miles along the trail. This spot features a campground, ranger station, and a spring that issues forth, creating Garden Creek and a virtual oasis of trees and other lush vegetation, including the cottonwood above, bursting in a riot of golden color. It also provides potable water year-round, a significant advantage when proceeding along the trail. The light here, and throughout the entire trip, was slanted and beautiful, painting the country in gilded shades of autumn.

Every stretch of the trail passed by incredible scenery, and landscapes of an enormous scale. The views of the Grand Canyon are undeniably impressive from the perspective of the North or South Rim, but the sheer size of it can only really be marginally comprehended by wandering through the place--a daunting, humbling, and exhilarating experience that I would recommend to anyone with the motivation and desire.

Even amidst the spectacle of mind-boggling cliffs and massive rock formations, miniature and improbable sights rewarded the visitor, such as this verdant patch of Rock Mat, thriving from a tiny spring seep trickling along stone next to the trail, surrounded by thirsty country.

Here was one of my first views of the sweeping Colorado River, shadows already growing long in mid-afternoon. I had traveled 7.5 miles by this point, but still had a few more to go. Hiking is much more comfortable this time of year when traveling into the Canyon, compared to the summer when temperatures can reach 120 degrees; I hiked this same route several years before, in late June, and can attest to the more pleasant conditions on this late fall trip.

After meeting the mighty river, the trail paralleled the water course to the east. As I trudged along, I spotted a spectacular Bighorn Sheep ram approaching me, using the trail as a convenient travel corridor as well. I stood motionless, and the ram did not detect my presence until coming quite close to me. I snapped a few pictures of him, including the one above, as he tried to determine whether he could continue onwards past me, then thought better of it, and returned back along the trail the way he had come, vanishing around the corner.

Eventually, I crossed the Steel Bridge, the westerly bridge crossing near the Bright Angel Creek confluence, and with it the Colorado River, the wide clouded green flows and roar of the rapids under my feet. The photo above shows the view from the bridge after crossing the river, on the north bank. The campground was less than half a mile away, and I met lovely Bright Angel Creek at last, as seen in the image below, eager to shed my backpack, rest my weary shoulders and feet, and set up camp.

I squeezed in a few hours of fishing as well, and explored the creek upstream upstream of the campground, casting into the abundant pocketwater, bouncing runs, and small pools.

I cast a tan #10 Neversink Caddis on 5X into a small bankside back eddy, and was quickly rewarded with a confident rise, followed by an energetic fight from a dark, mature male Rainbow Trout, a thick 14" beauty with intense crimson gill plates. The fish exhibited fairly sparse spotting, focused mostly near the tail and above the lateral line. In fact, it reminded me a bit of a miniature Steelhead in coloration, an observation that would be repeated on this trip with other sizable Rainbows, and I suspect that it may have been a migrant from the Colorado River, preparing to spawn in the coming winter months (this time of year is marked by Brown Trout that run up the stream to spawn, followed by Rainbows in January-March). Whatever the case, the trout was beautiful, and a great first fish to start off the trip.

I continued fishing upstream, and hooked a number of fine trout, mostly Rainbows with a few Browns mixed in, generally 8-12" and in excellent condition. I also lost or spooked a couple others around 14", and one long-jawed male Brown that went 15-16" (I tried fishing for this latter fellow each of the days I spent here, but was unable to cast to him without being detected. Fish occupied just about every likely piece of holding water, and two or three might occupy the better pools and runs. I switched back and forth between the Neversink Caddis and a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph; the trout did not seem to be particularly picky about fly selection, but were still spooky in the crystal clear flows, and demanded a stealthy approach.

I also managed to fool a larger Brown Trout in one prime deeper run, as the cool air and ensuing darkness of evening took hold. I lobbed a #10 Crawbugger up into the pool after spying the fish holding near the tailout, and let the streamer drift back towards me, all the while crouching to avoid being seen. The line tightened on the first cast, and I was connected to a powerful fish, that zipped around the run, and repeatedly tried to tie me off in the bankside structure. I was able to hold on, and gazed down at a fat Brown in the waning light, perhaps 17" and probably a female from the look of it. I snapped a few pictures with the flash, including the image above, watched the brute fin back into the cold currents, and returned to my campsite, already pleased with the fishing on this backcountry trip.

The following morning, I quickly got down to business after breakfast, and proceeded upstream from the campground, casting to likely lies in search of wild Grand Canyon trout. I found the small pool above, near the cabins of Phantom Ranch (near Bright Angel Campground, and a destination that offers beds, dining, showers and other amenities, and also requires reservations far in advance). I crept up near the tail, and flipped a #10 Crawbugger into the deeper flows.

An energized Rainbow engulfed the fly, and soon came to hand as a heavily spotted, foot-long specimen; the streamer is evident emerging from the the trout's mouth in the photos above and below.

This fish was fairly typical of many of the Rainbows caught in the creek--nice coloration, abundant spotting, and ranging in size from 8-12". I believe that these trout were stream residents, while the larger individuals, with fewer spots, where mostly Colorado River fish, making their way up the stream for winter spawning (as noted earlier).

I followed up the Rainbow with a couple of good Brown Trout from this run, both a solid 15", as shown in these two images. The fish above took the Crawbugger, while the one below grabbed a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph; both strong, healthy wild trout. I saw and landed relatively few Browns on this trip, although the ones caught were generally sizable fish.

Sunlight filtered down to the canyon floor as morning progressed, highlighting the russet canyon walls and the crystalline rushing creek. The sun's warmth felt welcome against my skin, and I couldn't help but be amazed by the spectacular surroundings, with a thriving trout stream flowing through it all, no less.

I continued prospecting for fish, mainly with nymphs and streamers, caught more than my fair share, and spooked others. The trout weren't pushovers, but responded aggressively to a convincing presentation, while I maintained a low profile--small stream fishing at its best.

I found this lovely run while proceeding upstream, tossed a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph towards the soft water against the cliff, and quickly received a strong strike, materializing as a scrappy male Brown in dark spawning colors.

This chunky trout went 14", a good fish for Bright Angel, and stood as the most colorful Brown of the trip. I cradled this fellow in the icy currents, and watched as he shot back into the multicolored hues of the clear stream.

Here are a couple more shots of the rushing stream, forming plunge pools and beckoning cliffside runs. The creek was beautiful in its own right, and I found myself being easily seduced by its wildness and liquid song (something that happens often with me, particularly with backcountry trout streams).

Further upstream, I found a deep little pocket sandwiched by chutes of whitewater, and hooked up with a leaping, muscular Rainbow Trout.

The fish measured 14", and I snapped a couple of pictures of the beauty before release.

The Rainbow was aptly named, with a vivid crimson-orange side stripe and gill plates.

Eventually, I made my way back downstream, along the North Kaibab Trail that parallels much of Bright Angel Creek. I took a few more photographs of the awe-inspiring scenery that surrounds and defines this waterway, including the image above, with the massive ancient stone cliffs in evidence.

I also managed to land a few more fine fish, including this 15" Rainbow. It took a #20 Copper Emmons (my take on a Copper John, with peacock sword tails, copper wire for the body, a bit of peacock herl and starling for the collar, and a tungsten bead head), after refusing larger nymphs.
And here is one last picture from the middle day of the trip, in the waning hours of afternoon. I included an angler (the only other one I came across on this day) standing ankle-deep in the stream at the bottom of the image, to give some scale to the incredible verticality of the place.

I awoke on the third day, and packed up my camping gear in preparation for the trek out. I saw this Canyon Wren (one of my favorite birds in this region) flitting through camp in morning's early light, and captured its image in a rare moment of stillness.

I also came across this Bighorn Sheep ewe as I began the hike out from Bright Angel Campground, and towards the Colorado River. She was browsing on grasses near the trail, did not seem alarmed by my presence, and provided an ideal subject for the camera.

Soon, I returned to the mighty Colorado River, and decided to fit in a bit more fly fishing before making the ascent back up to the rim.

I cast a #10 Crawbugger into the cloudy gray-green flows, and worked it through a bankside run below the bridge crossing on the north bank, the dull roar of rapids in the center of the river audible.

It took awhile to drift the streamer through the length of the run, but eventually I received a strong strike, followed by a series of short runs, and then a thick 13" Rainbow Trout that came to hand--a classic super-charged wild bow from a powerful river.

I prospected some more for trout in a sheltered deep run upstream, as the morning sun slowly crept above the cliff walls, spilling rays into the shaded canyon. I cast the Crawbugger into the depths of the run, letting it sink and drift with the currents, and immediately received a hard pull, followed quickly by the fly being busted off by some unknown bruiser. I pulled in the leader, tied on another streamer to 4X, and cast out again into the murky flows, a bit upstream. Within a couple drifts, I hooked up with another good fish, and this time held on, to bring a silvery 15" bow to shore, as shown below.

I cast the streamer out once again, and let it sink and move through the main pool, near a large submerged boulder. The leader went taut, and I felt myself connected to another powerful wild trout. This fish had some size to it, and proceeded to bolt downstream, jumping free from the water several times as the reel sang. The Colorado River here seems to breed some tireless and tough trout, and this one was no exception. Finally, after several shorter runs and dives to the bottom, I pulled in a magnificent bright buck Rainbow, measuring around 18", the best and last fish of the trip.

The trout sported a developing kype, and the silvery flanks, torpedo-shaped frame, and sparse spotting again reminded me of a miniature Steelhead, fresh from the salt.

The male was certainly a superior wild specimen, and I admired his rosy hues, white-tipped fins, and overall sleek appearance before returning him to the cold water, and watched his colors immediately blend back into the river.

It was an impressive fish, and a great way to end the fishing part of the trip (it is always nice when these expeditions end on such a note).

I crossed the sweeping Colorado, gazed back upstream one last time, as sunlight flooded the area, and shouldered my backpack, to begin the long haul up and out of the Canyon.

I passed by Garden Creek and Indian Gardens once again in the afternoon, and the cottonwoods burned in gold and green.

Here is a view past Indian Gardens, looking up towards the South Rim, and the last 4.5 miles of the trail--a steep and unrelenting climb for much of the rest of the way.

The views and rock formations are a big part of any trip into the Grand Canyon, and I had no shortage of these, to help make the demanding ascent more tolerable. I also ate and rehydrated while taking breaks along the way, to pace myself and maintain my strength.

It took several hours to complete the latter half of the climb, but I finally made it out near sunset, and was rewarded with some vivid hues splashed across the canyon walls in the fading light.

I completed a successful trek into and back out of the Grand Canyon, and found some fantastic fly fishing for undeniably wild trout along the way, in breathtaking and rugged surroundings--my idea of a great fishing trip, and one that I will certainly attempt again, hopefully many times. As mentioned earlier, this is a fishing destination that I would recommend to any angler up to the challenge, for the chance to cast over some of the wildest trout water that Arizona has to offer.

Oak Creek, November 2009

2009-12-22T11:27:00.004-08:00

I spent a few days prowling the banks of Oak Creek in November, particularly near the red rock formations around Slide Rock State Park. The low light was beautiful against the sandstone and fading leaves at this time of year, set against azure skies and the waning days of autumn.

I spotted this pair of Western Bluebirds drinking water from the stream; the ruddy breasts of the birds bore a striking resemblance to the sandstone.

I have become particularly fond of this section of Oak Creek lately, with the spectacular landscapes it provides, challenging fishing conditions, and abundant sunlight, resulting in somewhat warmer temperatures than upstream (the latter characteristic being more significant this time of year, in late fall and winter).

The photo above shows a redd (the white, smaller gravel in the center) from recent Brown Trout spawning activity. I spotted some redds upstream near the end of October, but many more throughout the stream in November and December. I made sure to avoid these, to help ensure the survival of the precious cargo inside. I also spied a spawning pair of Browns one late afternoon, near the end of this month. The male was dark and 12-13", and dwarfed by the brighter female (she looked to easily measure 18"), that occasionally fanned a patch of gravel, preparing the redd--wonderful to see, and I left the fish alone, to conduct their business.

I also managed to catch a few lovely Browns that were in feeding mode, including this 12" specimen, that took a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph drifted through the riffled head of a run.

More fall colors blazed from the vegetation and sandstone cliffs overlooking these deeper pools.

I found a good Brown feeding quietly near the tail end of one such pool, during an afternoon hatch of size 20 tan mayflies. I tied on a #20 tan Parachute Sparkle Dun to a long section of 5X, and cast softly upstream of the fish. On the second or third cast, the trout rose slowly, inhaled the fly, and proceeded to race through the pool, causing the reel to sing.

I guided the fish to shore, and admired a 14" dark male Brown Trout, with hues that seemed to reflect the simmering colors of late autumn.

On this same day, I found another fine trout near sunset, holding in the middle of a foam-flecked backeddy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a splashy rise, so I tied on a #10 Neversink Caddis, and tossed it out towards the fish. The Brown immediately hammered the bushy dry, and then peeled line off the reel, charging through the length of the run. Eventually, I pulled in a colorful, sleek fish, just under 15"--another marvellous wild Oak Creek Brown.

I suspect I briefly hooked and then lost this fish a couple of months ago, while nymphing the same run. Many of the better fish I've fooled from Oak Creek have shown themselves once or twice, when the right conditions arise, but otherwise remain aloof and hidden, and bringing one to hand is always a significant moment, not to be taken for granted. That is one of the lessons I've learned from Browns in this stream--the larger trout do not make many mistakes, and successfully landing one stems from a combination of observation, technique, and good timing.

I caught this 13" Brown in the middle of November, and it was the only fish caught on that day (but one is enough). The trout rose for a tan #20 Parachute Sparkle Dun, during an afternoon mayfly hatch; it felt good to be able to match the hatch and take some good Browns from the surface this month.

Here is an image of Slide Rock State Park, blissfully free of visitors near the end of November. Late fall was a good time of year (particularly on weekdays) to visit this part of Oak Creek for that reason. Also, the stocking of hatchery bows was largely absent throughout the stream at this time, and the creek seemed to revert to a more natural, wild trout state.

I dead-drifted a large, #4 Crawbugger through a deep run in this vicinity, and received a sharp yank, followed by head-shaking and sulking near the bottom of the pool. I coaxed the good fish to the surface, and photographed a solid 16" female Brown Trout in the shallows.

This was a fish I had seen and spooked several times in the past, and I felt fortunate to have enticed the trout into striking on this occasion.

Here is another image of the trout, a great fish by Oak Creek standards, as I prepared to return the Brown to the clear, cold currents.

I experienced some great fly fishing later in the afternoon in several runs, combining for one of the finer days I have had along Oak Creek, beginning with the small, crystalline glide above. I sneaked up on a fish holding in a small depression of the streambed, and hid behind boulders to avoid detection. I tossed a tan #20 Parachute Sparkle Dun upstream, and then watched as a colorful Brown sipped the fly off the surface, and soon lay in front of me as a golden, foot-long male trout, adorned with a few large spots of black and crimson.

I approached another run upstream, and lobbed a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph above a boulder that created a likely-looking lie.

The leader went taut, and I played another strong, chunky wild Brown, this one a solid 13", and a toothy, golden-olive male, again with beautiful spotting.

I included a closeup of the head, to show the abundant teeth, and because I thought this fish was particularly striking against the red sandstone--a classic nice small stream Brown in spawning colors.

I took another picture of a photogenic pool that I included previously in this post. Compared to the shot taken earlier in the month, the foliage was all but gone by the end of November.

Later in the afternoon, I revisited a long, flat run that I had fished and observed in the past few months. While I had seen a couple of larger trout milling around, I had not been able to effectively approach the run without spooking them (and perhaps the fish were not actively feeding in late summer and early fall). On this day, I slowly crept up on the west bank, and sat on a flat stone to watch (I often spend as much time observing a run as fishing it, especially along Oak Creek). Shadows draped across the glassy surface of the stream, and as luck would have it, several fish dimpled the water with subtle rises, a beautiful sight, and I had finally hit this run at the right time. I tied on a new length of 5X to the leader, and attached a tan #16 Parachute Sparkle Dun, as mayflies occasionally drifted down the slow currents (most a size 20, but some larger size 16 specimens were mixed in), and disappeared in a small swirl. I managed the softest cast I could muster towards the tail of the run, and watched it float downstream, over what seemed an endless amount of time. All of a sudden, a dark snout tipped up, breaking the creek surface, and the dry fly vanished into the jaws of a cagey old Brown.

The fish bolted up and down through the long glide, and I could see the outline of a large Oak Creek trout. I crossed the stream, brought the fighter in, and gazed down at an impressive, long-jawed spawner male, close to 17", and a beautiful Brown.

The pectoral fins were somewhat frayed, and the bottom of the jaw featured a recently healed-over red welt, perhaps an injury incurred from fighting with other male fish. In any case, this was one of the top Browns I had been able to land from Oak Creek this season, and I appreciated the warm russet golden hues and rusty-red spots running along the sides of the fish. I righted the trout, and watched him quickly shoot back into the glassy flows, to continue feeding and probably frustrate anglers again.

I managed to fool another good fish from the head of this run, which also grabbed the mayfly pattern, and emerged as a healthy, olive and gold Brown Trout just under 15".

The pelvic fins on this fish were frayed, and the head and gill plates featured some scarring--indicators that this was also a field-tested Brown, and probably a male. I watched this trout fin back into the icy water as well, and almost instantly blend seamlessly with the colors of the stream once more.

And here is one last wild Brown painted in vivid dark spawning hues, that I hooked with the same mayfly pattern as afternoon shifted into evening, by casting near the head of a deep pool, and waiting (hoping) for the wary fish to take. The rich coloration and slightly curving jaws pointed to another male, this one a good 13".

I made my way back to the vehicle as the colors of the surrounding landscapes bled out with the day's end, and concluded another wonderful month of exploring and fishing along beautiful Oak Creek. Fall approached its end along with November, and my favorite season had been kind to me in its offerings along this often challenging stream. I found myself looking forward to the coming fishing season, and autumn's splendor next year, but I was jumping ahead of myself, because more fishing was in store before the end of 2009, as documented in the following two posts.

Fall Browns--Chevelon Canyon Creek, Oct/Nov 2009

2009-12-22T11:27:00.003-08:00

I made the trip over to the Mogollon Rim to explore a new destination during the fall season, with visions of more fall Browns in my mind--Chevelon Canyon Creek. This stream flows north to its namesake lake (a terrific fishery in its own right, from what I've heard), and then beyond, eventually leaving National Forest land. I decided to visit the stream a number of miles upstream of the lake, in the hopes of discovering some sizable Browns that were on the move, in preparation for spawning.

I followed a network of dirt roads, and finally reached a trailhead (not obviously marked) that provided access, over a mile of rather steep descent, to a rugged section of the stream--not the easiest spot to reach, but then, just finding some of these destinations can be half the experience, and more challenging access can help to preserve the quality and wildness of the fishery. The image above shows one of my first views down into Chevelon Canyon (the creek is not readily visible here). This stream flows through wilderness-type country, and once a visitor makes their way down, they are on their own (and of course, the steep hike back up has to be taken into account at the day's end).

I made three trips to Chevelon; the first in early October, the next near the end of the month, and once again in early November. The stream is shown above during the first visit, flowing low and clear past steep slopes dotted with Ponderosa Pine. The creek looked to be suffering from the recent drought conditions, with parts of the streambed often exposed, but the water temperature remained cool and comfortable for trout.

I caught this vibrant, chunky Rainbow Trout, a good foot, on an orange-bodied, #16 Neversink Caddis (I used 5X throughout my visits), cast up into shallow pocketwater. This was the first fish I caught from the creek, and it ended up being the only Rainbow I landed (although I saw another of similar dimensions upstream in a long flat). It is my understanding (based on guidebooks I have poured through) that Rainbow Trout are not resident in this stream, but rather some follow the Browns up in the fall, perhaps feeding on eggs during the spawn, and then many more bows travel upstream in the spring, engaged in their own spawning run. Whatever the case, I did not see any Rainbows on subsequent trips, later in the fall, and suspect they returned downstream to Chevelon Canyon Lake.

Chevelon Canyon Creek was characterized by long shallow stretches of pocketwater and riffles, interspersed by longer flats and deeper runs. These latter stream features tended to harbor more (and larger) fish, although the trout were invariably wary regardless, and I spooked more than my fair share, particularly on my first visit.

In fact, the fishing proved challenging for me on the initial trip, and I managed to only fool several smaller Browns, the largest measuring perhaps a foot, similar to the Rainbow caught. I certainly saw some bigger fish though, including at least a pair 20" or better, and a handful in the mid and upper teens.

I also came across this Raccoon that crossed the stream above, and then proceeded to wander along the bank right next to me. I stood motionless, and the mammal only noticed my presence after passing me, and picking up my scent.

The autumn light was beautiful along Chevelon Canyon Creek, low and golden, and enhanced the burning foliage along the banks. The photos above and below were taken as I wandered farther upstream, with deeper pools and likely lies becoming more prevalent as magnificent canyon walls loomed above the creek channel.

The leaves were brilliantly colored on some of the undergrowth, including the crimson sumac and young yellow Gambel Oak below.

This trumpet wildflower bloom added to the vivid hues bursting from the stream corridor.

Near the end of my first visit in late afternoon, I drifted a #10 Crawbugger near a partially submerged boulder in a small run (near the same spot where I caught the Rainbow earlier), more on a whim than anything else, and because I had seen numerous crayfish in the shallows throughout the day. Almost instantly, a massive Brown Trout materialized from under the rock, but I was so surprised that I instinctively jerked the streamer away. The bruiser searched for the fly a moment longer, realized it was exposed, and then vanished back under the boulder, as my jaw continued to hang open, and one last image of its big reddish brown tail lingered in my mind. Of course, I cast again repeatedly, but to no avail. I had to settle for at least drawing the large fish out from its hiding place, and getting a brief glance at the trout.

I returned to Chevelon Canyon Creek a couple weeks later, and made my way quickly towards the unassuming run where I had discovered the big Brown before, with the hope that it might still be holding in the same spot. I cast the Crawbugger again, and bounced it lightly under the same boulder, causing the marabou and legs to pulse, and creating what I hoped was a lifelike motion. Amazingly, after 10 or 15 seconds of repeating this action, the same bruiser reappeared, this time I didn't flinch, and the fish inhaled the streamer. I immediately pulled the rod downstream, to move the lunker away from the boulder (I had a feeling that the fish would break me off in short order if I allowed it to retreat back under the rock), and fortunately, the trout cooperated. The Brown thrashed about the surface and charged through the small run, but the fight ended fairly quickly, and I steered the magnificent fish into the shallows.

Here is an image of the big Brown Trout against my 5 wt. The bruiser measured about 22", and I figured 4-5 lbs. I suspect the fish was a female, based on the relatively smaller head (although it was still large enough to swallow my reel), and lack of a prominent kype.

In any case, it was a spectacular Brown, one of my best to date, and a trout that I felt fortunate indeed to have fooled, and then successfully towed in. I included one last photo below, showing the beautiful coloration of the hen, before I tailed the brute, watched her strum back into the clear flows, and disappear under a nearby stone.

My second outing on this trip had started with a bang, and I managed to bring a couple more fine fall Browns to hand as the day progressed.

I also spooked many more fish, some of them quite large, in the 18-20" range. The extremely low water conditions made approaching the wiser Browns difficult at best, and sometimes impossible. Additionally, some of the trout did not seem particularly interested in feeding, and perhaps were already turning their attention towards the business of reproduction. Nonetheless, it was a thrill to see that the spawning run was here, and making its way upstream. While some good fish were spotted earlier in October, I believe that quite a few more were present in the system on the second trip.

The two pictures above show the low flows of the creek, the beautiful mild and sunny conditions that greeted me on all three of my visits over the fall, and the lack of leaves that became increasingly apparent on the second and third trips to Chevelon.

Occasionally, I managed to sneak up on holding water unannounced, sight a good fish, and make a cast before scaring the trout. The image above shows one such spot, with a disproportionately sizable Brown holding at the very head of the small run, right beneath the whitewater. I tossed the Crawbugger just upstream, and the fish struck almost immediately.

I was rewarded with another handsome Chevelon Brown, this one a big-headed, 15" male, with a bit of scarring evident below the jaws and gill plates (presumably gained in fights with other male Browns). The size of this fish seemed to be about average for the mature spawners distributed in the creek, from what I could see.

Cliffs sometimes met the edges of the stream, creating deeper pools that harbored some good Brown Trout. Many of these fish seemed reluctant to take a well-presented streamer or bushy dry, although they would often inspect the fly closely.

The scenery was rugged and impressive through the section I explored, and I noticed the remains of former campsites along some of the benches near deep pools; evidence of fishing trips earlier this season, and in years past (I came across several anglers on my first visit, but none beyond that).

The two photos here show the upper extent of my wanderings on the second visit--the cliff formations and landscapes seemed to go on and on, in lonely and wonderful country.

I also found another good Brown Trout somewhere up in this area, hanging in a shadowed pool, rising sporadically (no apparent insect hatches from what I could see). I decided to tie on a tan #10 Neversink Caddis, cast it up against a cliff wall, and let the bushy dry drift slowly back towards me. About halfway through the drift, the fly disappeared in a small, subtle rise, and I was connected to a strong, shaking fish that bolted around in the dark pool. I held on, and soon reeled in a classic male fall Brown.

The trout measured about 17", had some girth for its size, and possessed a nice kype, as seen in the closeup below.

I made the trip over to Chevelon Canyon Creek one last time in early November, hoping to connect with a few more bruiser Browns before the season came to an end.

I passed by a herd of Pronghorn Antelope just after dawn, on the way towards my destination. The female below was the lone curious individual, that lingered behind and stared at me, before joining the others.

The fishing was a bit slow on my third visit; in fact, I only landed two fish, one small, the other a good Brown, holding in the middle of this run.

I crouched low in order to avoid spooking it, and then made a short cast with a black #12 Foam Beetle. The fish took the terrestrial confidently, vaulted into the air, and then darted downstream. I pulled the trout towards the bank, and admired another fine Chevelon Brown, this one just over 15", and a female from the look of it.

I hooked several other good Browns on this day, including one brilliantly colored male, but they all came loose prematurely--frustrating, but some days are like that, and I was glad to at least bring to hand the one good fish above. I also noticed that the majority of the fish this time seemed to be engaged in spawning activity, or preparing to do so; pairs of Browns were following each other in various pools, while others rested flat against the streambed, perhaps spent by recent reproductive activity. Several of these fish again measured 18-20", and one bruiser male, with several large scars on his dorsal, easily went 24", if not larger (quite a sight).

One of the highlights of the day came as the sun dipped below the canyon rim, while I made my way back towards the trail access heading up and out. I spotted a good-sized Black Bear crossing the stream channel, and snapped a quick shot as it lumbered towards the brush and trees. Sightings like these always strike me as gifts, and reaffirm the wildness of places like Chevelon Canyon Creek.

And here is one last look at the stream, the leaves now almost completely gone from the hardwood trees and streamside brush, a sign of winter soon approaching. These visits provided a great introduction to Chevelon Canyon Creek, and certainly supported its reputation as a superb Brown Trout fishery. I felt fortunate to have caught several good fish here, and witnessed some of the spawning run. I will definitely return to this wild, rugged stream this next season, explore its canyon reaches again, and try to seek out more of the impressive trout that call this place home.

Fall Browns--Oak Creek , late Sept./October 2009

2009-12-22T11:27:00.001-08:00

The arrival of fall for me has always been subtle, yet unmistakable. Small changes, like cooler evenings, lower slanting sunlight, and wood smoke in the air, combine to announce that summer has passed, and been replaced by autumn. Other changes, relevant to fly fishing, come with the new season as well, including reinvigorated insect hatches, and perhaps most notably, increased Brown Trout activity.

Fall has always been a special time for me, for the colorful foliage, the often ideal weather conditions for outdoor activities, some of the best fishing opportunities of the year, minimal crowds, and the feel of a last hurrah before life shuts down a bit for winter; my favorite part of the year, and always too brief. It is also the time for fall Browns on the move, gearing up for spawning, and the chance to pursue some potentially large fish that may be unavailable most of the rest of the year, due to their wariness and secretive habits. Fall began (in my mind anyway) in late September, and I continued to prowl the banks of Oak Creek the remainder of the month, and several times in October. Perhaps I was just becoming more effective at seeking out some of the better Browns in the stream, but I felt like I found a few more sizable fish as fall continued, and credit at least some of this success to the season. For example, I hooked a strong, leaping Brown around 15" while nymphing the run above, near the West Fork confluence, that grabbed a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph on 5X, drifted under a partially submerged stone (shown near the bottom of the photo, with a small grass clump growing on top). Unfortunately, the fish threw the hook while jumping, but it was still good to know that a sizable Brown lurked here.

This is a long, fairly deep pool near Hoel's Wash in the catch and release section. I spent some time exploring this reach, from below this pool upstream to the West Fork confluence and beyond. Private residences line the east side of the stream for much of this section, making access difficult, but also ensuring more solitude. Also, some relatively large and wary Browns are scattered through here, in long flat glides, occasional pools, and a few deep pockets; challenging (and sometimes impossible) fish, and fun to stalk.

I caught several fine fish in the pool above on a late September day, including this foot-long Brown, that took a #10 brown BH Girdle Bug drifted through the deeper middle part of the run.

I saw another trout holding in a shallow, lazy riffle upstream, and watched it slowly rise on occasion, to any hapless prey drifting its way (including a bit of tan leaf litter that the fish tested and then spit out). No hatches were evident (in fact, I didn't see much in the way of insect activity until October), so I tied on a simple Foam Beetle (I use the butt ends of peacock herl for the legs), a go-to dry fly for me when fish are rising sporadically, particularly in the low flows of summer and early fall. I affixed the pattern to a long length of 5X; I have found that 6X (or 7X for that matter) is not usually necessary, even in spooky, low water conditions, if enough of the thicker tippet is used (3' of tippet on top of a leader tapering to 5X), and the breaking strength and durability is much improved.

I crouched down, and slowly placed myself in a good position for the riser. I cast as softly as I could, and on the second drift, was rewarded with an unhurried, confident rise. I lifted the rod, and the Brown Trout zipped downstream, and made several short runs for the abundant weed growth along the streambed. Eventually, I pulled the fish close, and admired a good 13" Brown. I included a head shot above, with the beetle pattern evident in the upper jaw, and an image of the fish in hand, just before release.

I cast towards another fish that quietly rose on occasion, located against the east (roadside) bank, and while I received a good look to the dry (and later a #16 Zug Bug), the fish refused to take, and eventually spooked (it looked to be a good Brown, 14-15"). However, I did fool another Brown at the upper end of the run, in a shaded side riffle, that engulfed the beetle on the first cast, and emerged as a beauty of a male, just over 12".

I have noticed on Oak Creek that while the wild Brown Trout population is quite healthy, the density of fish in any given run is fairly low (in contrast to certain pools that receive stockings of hatchery bows, and can be chock full of the fish, in unnaturally high numbers), which is to be expected in a relatively fertile, small stream environment. Moreover, these fish are spooky enough that catching more than a couple in any given run or pool is not a common occurrence. Needless to say, I felt fortunate to be able to land 3 fine Browns from a single (albeit longer and deeper) run on this day.

I explored the upper catch and release water from below Hoel's Wash upstream to the West Fork confluence again near the end of the month, and ended up having one of the more productive days to date along Oak Creek, in terms of larger, difficult fish hooked and landed. The day began slowly, with only one smaller wild Rainbow brought to hand, while I spooked several Browns. However, things began to change in the afternoon as I approached the red sandstone section near the West Fork (reminiscent of Slide Rock State Park downstream). I caught a foot-long hatchery bow (one of the few stockers that looked as if it might survive beyond the season), followed by a good 12" Brown on a #10 tan Neversink Caddis in a couple of bouncing pockets. I proceeded upstream to a long, flat run that contains more depth than a first glance might suggest (Oak Creek is so clear that certain spots can appear deceptively shallow). The run contained a canopy of trees that provided ample shade, and may have emboldened a pair of fish to rise. Whatever the reason, I found a couple of trout coming to the surface, and managed to spook the first one near the tail, before settling down, and casting quietly to the second, creating tiny riseforms (often a sign of a better trout) in the middle of the run.

Once again, I switched to a #12 Foam Beetle on 5X, after receiving a lunging rise (but no take) to a #10 Neversink Caddis, and after several nerve-wracking drifts, the fish grabbed the terrestrial. The trout proved to be a fighter, and charged about the length of the run repeatedly before I could guide it to shore. Finally, I gazed down at a lovely Brown Trout, just over 15", with warm russet-gold hues and striking spotting. Moments like these make the careful approaches and casts all the more worthwhile; sometimes, even the bigger, wary Browns can be fooled. The fish is shown above and below, and the rich hues looked to me like spawning colors.

I continued upstream after releasing the Brown Trout above, getting closer to the West Fork confluence.

This stretch features some beautiful red rock formations, often as long flat slabs of stone, with the creek cutting through it and producing some amazing sculptural effects.

I fished a small yet deep pool, pictured towards the right in the image, and drifted a nymph through current at the head, towards a good Brown that I spotted, sitting on the bottom. The trout remained unresponsive, until the sun set behind the looming sandstone cliff walls to the west, and then suddenly, its behavior changed. The fish rose in the water column, and moved upstream a bit, and looked much more active. It still ignored the nymph, so I switched over to a #10 Crawbugger, and dead-drifted the streamer in front of the fish. Almost immediately, the trout responded, nailed the fly, and I was connected to another hefty Oak Creek Brown.

I pulled the fish in, and admired another stunning Brown Trout sporting spawning colors (these photos don't do the fish justice, the golden yellow and rusty orange hues were glowing), this one just under 15". I used a flash here (and on two more fish landed and photographed), hence the light reflection in the eye.

I had not experimented with streamers too much on Oak Creek up to this point (other than occasionally down towards Slide Rock), but I continued fishing the Crawbugger on this evening, and found two more good Browns that struck at the fly aggressively. These encounters served as a good reminder that better Browns are often low-light predators, and tend to seek out larger prey items under the guise of darkness.

One of these fish lurked in the run shown, under the partially submerged rock just behind the triangular boulder, in the lower right side of the photograph. I dead-drifted the Crawbugger along the underside of the rock, twitching it on occasion, and a dark, shark-like form rushed the fly and inhaled it on the first cast; I always get a charge out of seeing a predatory trout emerge from hiding to attack a fly, something that seems to happen often when streamer fishing. I have noticed that fish usually strike on the first or second cast in these situations. Also, I tended to only use a rod's length of leader, both with streamer and nymph fishing along Oak Creek (except along longer runs and deeper pools), because the broken water, conflicting currents, and numerous structure seemed to necessitate it, for both line control and effectively sneaking up on spooky fish.

I pulled in this long-jawed male Brown after a bout of thrashing about by the trout and making repeated attempts to tie me off under the aforementioned boulders. He measured just under 14", another great Oak Creek fish featuring a dark golden olive coloration (that blended in well with the the dark recesses under rocks in the stream), and the Crawbugger is evident protruding from his mouth in the pictures above and below.

Soon after, I reached the West Fork confluence, and proceeded to make my way back to the road, and downstream to the vehicle. The skies were turning dark with dusk fast approaching evening, and I decided to wander down to the pool near Hoel's Wash once more, and flick the streamer near submerged boulders, to see if I could move another larger fish. Sure enough, within a couple short casts, followed by letting the Crawbugger sink slowly, a Brown Trout emerged from the depths, paused right in front of the fly, and then quickly grabbed it, and raced back towards the bottom of the pool. I managed to pull this fighter in as well, and admired another beauty of a wild Brown, just over 14", and I believe the same fish I unsuccessfully cast to and eventually spooked, as mentioned earlier in this post.

This fish was a great end to a fabulous day along Oak Creek, where I managed to connect with 4 fall Brown Trout between 13 and 15", a productive outing by the high standards of this stream.

September came to a close, and gave way to October. I continued to explore Oak Creek, although much less so than the previous month. However, what October lacked in quantity in terms of days spent along the stream, it more than made up for in quality. I included a photo above of a productive deep run below Junipine Crossing; a couple of chunky Browns around a foot lurked here, but I managed to lose both.

I caught this fine Brown Trout just over 11" on a tan #16 Deer Hair Caddis on 5X, cast upstream into a quiet pool, perhaps a mile above the West Fork confluence, one evening near the start of October.

The fish inhaled the dry fly after previously rising for several natural brown caddis of similar size drifting on the surface. I noticed that insect hatches became more prevalent as the month and season wore on, and the fish responded with more surface activity. The foliage began to turn crimson and golden on bushes and hardwoods, and the sun's rays became slanted and golden--like I said earlier, autumn is one of my favorite times of year, for many reasons, and certainly a wonderful time to be streamside with a rod in hand.

I captured an image of a young Narrow-headed Gartersnake hunting in the shallows along the creek. This is an uncommon snake species, although they seem to thrive here, particularly near the West Fork.

Several blooms of Cardinal Flowers glow along the banks near sunset in the early part of the month, again near the West Fork confluence.

Near the middle of the month, I caught this nice 11-12" Oak Creek fish on a #10 Crawbugger from a shaded pocket above Bootlegger Campground in the catch and release section, and missed a good-sized dark Brown from a plunge pool further upstream on the same pattern, that looked to be at least 13".

I came across a well-camouflaged Canyon Tree Frog in this section, that proved to be a patient subject for the camera.

I spent one last day in October along Oak Creek, on Halloween, from Slide Rock State Park up to the Halfway Picnic Area. The weather was beautiful, in the mid 60s, and the sunlight made the abundant sandstone burn red with color.

I wandered up to a nice run, spotted a good Brown holding near the tail, and lobbed a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph above the fish.

The trout reacted quickly as the nymph drifted into its feeding lane, and inhaled the fly. I soon gazed down at a lovely male Brown measuring a good foot, featuring some brilliant spawning coloration (including the black along the belly, which I noticed increasingly as the fall progressed, particularly on male specimens). I watched the trout fin back into the crystalline flows, and then noted that small, #20 tan mayflies began hatching, around 1 pm. I saw a larger fish start feeding high in the water column, in the middle of the run, and also rose once for a wasp drifting atop the currents. I managed to sting the trout twice, on a small nymph pattern followed by a #12 black Foam Beetle. Finally, I tied on a #20 tan Parachute Sparkle Dun to a long length of 5X, after watching the fish take several duns off the surface, and received a confident rise and subsequent solid hookset.

The riser emerged as a large female Brown Trout, right around 18", and in fact the same big fish that I caught upstream back in September (pictured in the previous post), with the identical spotting pattern. This time, the brute was somewhat leaner, with more of a vibrant rusty golden hue than before, no doubt in tune with the coming spawning season (or perhaps this fish had already spawned, based on her slimmer profile). It was great to see this large trout again, and reaffirmed the benefits of catch and release, especially for big wild fish. I kept the Brown at least partially submerged on her side in water as I snapped a few pictures (I try to follow this practice with all the trout I photograph, as it allows them to breath and rest, and I feel it may aid in their survival when released), and then returned the fish to her lair after getting a closeup of the head.

I continued upstream, through more stunning scenery of slickrock cliffs and the shining creek, until I came to a deep pocket in shadows, with a polished gray boulder near the tail of the run. I tied on a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph (this pattern has become my go-to prospecting fly on this stream, and an effective one), and let it sink and wash against the underbelly of the rock. On the second drift, the line went taut, I raised the rod, and a heavy, unyielding weight shook violently against my resistance. I quickly realized I was connected to a significant trout, more so than I expected from this run, and proceeded to battle it as the bruiser charged up and downstream, and darted for the safety of several submerged boulders. Finally, I coaxed the fish to shore, and looked upon a fantastic male Brown Trout, thick-shouldered, heavy and measuring over 18" (and I figured at least 3 lbs).

The Brown showed some spectacular coloration, with a golden belly and abundant spotting along the sides.

The big jaws starting to show a kype and the considerable girth of the brute left no doubt that this was a mature, dominant wild Brown in this section of the stream, and the best fish I have landed to date from Oak Creek.

As always, the moment for admiring such a beautiful trout was timeless and yet all too brief, before I found myself tailing the bruiser Brown, getting one last glimpse of him, and then he shot out of my grasp, and back to his deep, concealed lie.

I took a moment to reflect on the glorious landscapes that abound here, and the wild trout that thrive in this clear cold stream. I thought once again how fortunate I am to be able to take part in such rich bounty, and for some precious hours get outside of myself, to merge with the inner workings of the stream, and this beautiful place. It also struck me how big Browns like the one I just landed do not show themselves often, and yet sometimes the stars align in an angler's favor, and that possibility is part of what fall fishing is all about.

I found this mayfly dun resting on a stone in late afternoon. While many of the mayflies that hatched on this day were a size 20, some specimens, such as the one pictured above, were a size 16. As the image indicates, their bodies were tan and brown, and not BWOs as far as I could tell.
Whatever their identity, the insects were handsome specimens.

I caught one final fish to round out this productive day--a dusky gray, olive, and gold Brown Trout that went a good 12", with large black spots along the sides, and fell for the #12 Krystal Hare Nymph once again, near the head of a deep pool up near the Halfway Picnic Area. I included one last image of the fish below, before watching it swim back into the dark pool.

Needless to say, I was happy with the outcome of this autumn day, and with the ascending fall season of late September through October, filled with memories that will keep me returning to Oak Creek, to explore and uncover more of this stream's mysteries.

Oak Creek, September 2009

2009-12-22T11:26:00.002-08:00

The month of September marked a time of seasonal transition along Oak Creek, with the heat of summer gradually shifting towards the longer shadows and golden light of fall. It also signified a period when I spent many days and hours fly fishing and observing along the clear, beautiful stream, and in my mind began to get a grip on some of the intricacies of my new home water.

I included a lot of images in this post, arranged roughly in chronological order from the beginning through the third week of the month; the next post will include photographs and details from the end of September through October. I will try to refrain from getting too verbose here, and focus on brief descriptions to help explain pictures. The two photos above and the one below show several runs along Oak Creek, just upstream from the Halfway Picnic Area. This stretch is characterized by pocketwater, along with a few pools and longer glides. It also marks a transition from the red sandstone formations and desert ecosystem below, to more forested terrain, and the feel of a mountain stream above.

As these stream shots indicate, the water was always crystal clear, to go along with the low flows of summer. Stealth tactics were mandatory in order to approach and fool the spooky trout. I found one fine Brown hiding in the plunge pool pocket (with the whitewater, on the left side) in the photo above.

This Brown was a good foot, and grabbed a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph on 5X. I also caught several other 9-10" Browns, and some hatchery bows upstream (the latter particularly prevalent near Banjo Bill Picnic Area, and no doubt near other easy access points for depositing stockers). I would consider the dark, nicely-spotted specimen above to be a good-sized fish from Oak Creek, and being able to land one or two of these fellows in a day of fishing was a well-earned highlight, although never a sure thing.

Here is an image of Oak Creek below Manzanita Campground, with a dark pool framed by red sandstone and the green of hardwoods and riparian vegetation. While a number of deeper runs and pools in this area looked likely for sizable Brown Trout, I only found the occasional hatchery Rainbow, along with native suckers. The water was warmer here, and perhaps provided less ideal conditions for wild trout (although a solitary larger Brown probably still lurks here and there in this area...).

I saw a couple of great bird species along the stream corridor--a Common Black Hawk above, and a male Painted Redstart below, flashing his crimson chest at me.

Great Blue Herons and Common Mergansers were also sighted frequently, suggesting that the older, wiser trout that survive in Oak Creek are quite familiar with various predators (including people), and more than capable of evading them at the first sign of danger.

I caught these two chunky Browns around a foot in a deep pool just below the Halfway Picnic Area; the fish above took a #14 BH Peacock Soft Hackle, while the one below inhaled a #12 black Hareabou Leech.

The pool holding these trout hardly contained a current, except at the head and tail, and may have measured over 10' deep in the middle. Significant dark green weed growth was evident on the stream bed, attesting to the fertility of this stream, and its spring-fed nature.

I approached this run like a lake shore, or a technical spring creek, by maintaining a low profile, staying out of the water, and presenting the fly quietly and carefully, so as not to spook the trout. In fact, I ended up fishing Oak Creek in general this way, through September and beyond, and have found that this mindset is often key to successfully targeting good fish here. While Oak Creek often resembles a free-stone stream with abundant pocketwater and plunge pools, it really fishes much more like the spring creek that it is, a fact that becomes increasingly evident in the larger, deep pools and long, slow glides (locations that I found often harbored the better Browns of the creek, although not exclusively).

Here is a photo of another deep pool, that yielded the first large Brown Trout (by Oak Creek standards) that I caught from the stream. I cast a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph into the main flow, and received a strong pull, as the pattern drifted along the sandstone ledge (on the left side in the picture).

The fish charged downstream, and then proceeded to attempt to tie me off under the rock ledge and several boulders (a tactic repeated by other good trout I hooked, probably because these fish equate submerged stones and similar structure with protection and safety). Fortunately, I was able to hold on, and soon found myself gazing at a wonderful 15" male Brown Trout. I included a head shot above (the bump on its lower jaw was an identifying feature for this individual), and a photo just before release below. For me, landing one of these older, wary Browns from Oak Creek was a real accomplishment, and one to appreciate.

I included an image of one of my BH Krystal Hare Nymphs below; one of the more effective nymph patterns I've created, a great searching fly, and one that Browns here often seem ready to devour.

Oak Creek flows through some spectacular country, including the pool below, surrounded by colorful sandstone formations.

Other creatures call Oak Creek home, such as this female wolf spider I found along the bank, guarding a nest of eggs beneath a mass of webbing.

Wildflowers still blazed with color along the banks, including this Yellow Columbine that Regan photographed on one outing with me.

Wild Rainbow Trout are rather uncommon in Oak Creek, and they were always a welcome surprise when hooked and brought to hand; the closeup shows the head of a spunky, foot-long fish, that also grabbed a BH Krystal Hare Nymph. In my mind, they are far superior to hatchery fish in fighting ability and appearance.

Red rock country dominates the landscape, as Oak Creek leaves the confines of the upper forested canyon, and winds down towards Sedona.

I explored some of the water in this area one day, upstream of Grasshopper Point, while Regan studied along the banks (and spotted a gorgeous Summer Tanager). Oak Creek contains quite a bit of water in this section, and holds some great-looking deep runs and pools.

Again though, as with the water closer to Manzanita Campground, I found only hatchery bows, and some large suckers glued to the stream bottom. I suspect the creek may become marginal for wild trout in this section (the water temperature was noticeably warmer, and a fine layer of silt covered much of the streambed, both factors that may inhibit trout survival), but this area still looks as if it may contain a large Brown or two.

Speaking of which, I fooled another good-sized mature male Brown near the middle of September, in the section between Slide Rock State Park and the Halfway Picnic Area, on a #16 orange-bodied Neversink Caddis on 5X. The fish measured between 15-16", was rather slim for its size, and proved to be another challenging and beautiful Oak Creek trout.

This Brown was a perfect example of one of the better fish in the stream holding in an unlikely spot. It sat under the grassy boulder, in the still backwater towards the left side of the image below, and only appeared when the dry fly floated slowly right against the rock. The trout served as a good reminder that you can never be sure where a larger fish might turn up, especially if it is a Brown, and particularly in a stream like Oak Creek, where structure in the form of submerged boulders and woody debris can be found everywhere.

I provided a detailed shot of the Neversink Caddis. This dry is a great attractor pattern, and does a fine job of imitating caddis, stones, and small hoppers.

I managed to connect with and land the largest fish of the month from a small pocket above a lovely run, not far from Slide Rock State Park, again on a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph.

This female Brown measured close to 18" and about 2 1/2 lbs, and thrashed about in the run below, before I pulled the fish close, snapped a few pictures, and returned her to the crystalline flows. I would have to call this Brown a big fish for Oak Creek (although I have spied a very few oversized wild Rainbows between Slide Rock and the West Fork confluence that stretch at least 20", and I have no doubt that a few bruiser Browns exceed these dimensions, and lurk under some of the boulders in this reach), especially for those that are marginally catchable, and I certainly felt fortunate to admire its beauty for a few moments.

A section of Oak Creek flows over the abundant red sandstone near Slide Rock State Park; prospecting for wild trout in these settings can feel surreal at times, and magical.

Another fine Oak Creek Brown trout is brought to hand in the picture above; this one measured a good 13", and pounced on a nymph in a plunge pool, below Slide Rock State Park.

Some good Brown trout lurk near Slide Rock, but they can be difficult, and the crowds can be intolerable (and detrimental to fishing success), on weekends and throughout the summer.

Another Brown Trout poses for the camera, this one around a foot. The Browns are invariably beautiful in Oak Creek, and often seem to sport abundant red and rust-hued spotting.

Red cliffs loom over another deep green pool, upstream of Slide Rock State Park; another likely hangout for a large Brown, although I did not detect a sizable fish here on this visit.

And one more beautiful run, coursing past colorful sandstone and riparian vegetation. At times, just gazing at the scenery provided (almost) as much enjoyment as the fishing.

I explored the upper stream in the catch and release section above Junipine Crossing beyond the middle of the month, in the vicinity of Bootlegger Campground.

This is a beautiful section of water, and a delightful stretch to fly fish, characterized by several good runs and pools, and abundant tumbling pocketwater.

Some of these runs featured quite a few hatchery Rainbows that had moved away from the easier access points, but the entire reach was dominated by wild Browns. In fact, the catch and release section in general seemed to hold the most prolific population of trout, although the average size of the fish seemed slightly smaller than downstream.

I lobbed a nymph upstream into this pool, while crouching down, and got a hard pull as the fly drifted against the partially submerged boulder shown just above the closest rock in the foreground. I did not see the fish take, but rather felt it; if I had been fishing at an angle where I could have spotted the trout emerging from its hiding place, I would have undoubtedly spooked the fish. The Browns in particular here require such sneak tactics, and even when the approach and presentation is successful, the trout can often strike so quickly that they are gone before a good hookset can be made; tough conditions, but satisfying when everything works out and a fine fish comes to hand.

This Brown Trout went between 12 and 13", a good fish anywhere on Oak Creek, and showing some vibrant reds and golds.

The stream swirls around sculpted stones and boulders, through a wooded setting, with trout possible at every turn.

Another lovely wild Brown poses for the camera upon a bed of multicolored stones, with red spots that seem to glow. The trout measured a good 13", and materialized from the heart of the run shown below (which first yielded a hatchery bow), upstream of Bootlegger Campground.

I landed another fine, dark fish, 12-13", from a small eddy to the side of a shallow run farther upstream, that grabbed the dependable #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph. I didn't see any fish in the mid to upper teens (or larger, for that matter) in this stretch, but I suspect that at least a few of the big submerged boulders here harbor some bruiser Browns.

Sunlight catches on a small pool; watching the play of light on the water, and the colors of the streambed, was hypnotic at times.

Morning light painted golden the sandstone cliffs looming above Slide Rock State Park.

I fished a deep pool at Slide Rock on one early morning, before crowds of visitors descended on the sculpted sandstone and rushing water.

I tied on a large #4 Crawbugger as shown below, featuring a brown marabou tail with root beer krystal flash, a brown chenille body, olive barred hackle, brown rubber legs, and hourglass eyes for weight--a fairly simple but effective pattern I modifieded from the venerable Wooly Bugger, to represent crayfish, baitfish, salamanders, and any other big mouthful for a sizable trout to inhale.

I drifted the streamer through the deeper part of the run, and after several casts, the fly line tightened, and I quickly felt a strong, shaking presence on the other end. The fish repeatedly dove towards the bottom of the pool, and proved rather unwilling to be subdued.

Eventually, I brought a football-shaped wild Rainbow Trout to hand, a good 15" and about 2 lbs, and the best wild bow to date that I've landed from Oak Creek.

I included a head shot above, and a photo below just before releasing the bright fish back into the deep flow. The girth and small head indicated that this Rainbow had been feeding quite well, reaffirming the relatively fertile conditions of Oak Creek.

One last look at the stream weaving through red sandstone, before the sun highlighted its currents once again.

Here is a closeup of a fat, 12" Brown Trout that took a #12 black Hareabou Leech (a pattern I tied, with a rabbit strip for the body and tail, a few turns of marabou for the collar, and small hourglass eyes for weight at the head).

Occasionally, a leech pattern fooled a fish when nothing else seemed to work, particularly when retrieved slowly through a sluggish, deeper pool, like the one below, where the aforementioned trout lurked. I spied a couple of larger Browns in this glide, but was unable to approach without spooking them.

I fished the water upstream of Bootlegger Campground in the catch and release area once again in the third week of October, and came across this striking, bold jumping spider.

I also drifted a nymph through a small shaded foam eddy, next to a large mid-stream boulder, and received a hard yank, soon materializing as a solid foot-long Brown Trout; another dark and vibrantly colored wild Oak Creek fish.

I'll finish off this entry with a final image of Oak Creek, just upstream of the Brown shown above; enticing water on a beautiful sunlit day.

I had some great times along Oak Creek through this part of September, and began to better understand this wonderful little fishery. I continued my education as fall took hold in the latter part of September and on into October, to be covered in the next post.

Black River, August 2009

2009-12-22T11:26:00.001-08:00

One of the most highly-regarded trout watersheds in the state is the Black River, in the White Mountains of eastern Arizona. The river and its numerous tributaries hold abundant wild Browns and Rainbows, and some of the remaining (and restored) strongholds of native Apache trout. I decided to take advantage of some of the remaining time off I had before starting my next job, and made the drive over to this vaunted fishery, to fly fish and camp in the backcountry for several days during the last week of August.

This was my first visit to the Black, not to mention eastern Arizona in general; it is a beautiful, wild corner of the state, and a fitting location as a Mexican wolf reintroduction site. I accessed the mainstem via Wildcat Crossing and FR 25, and hiked several miles downstream, to set up camp. I fished likely-looking runs and pools along the way, including the nice riffle confluence above.

I cast a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph on 5X into the heavier flows of the run, using a 9' 5 wt outfit, and quickly connected with a strong, heavy Brown trout, just over 16", with a head shot of the fish pictured above. After releasing the brute, I tied into another fine Brown, this one 15" and one of the more colorful fish of the trip (the photo below does not do the trout justice).

Eventually, I continued downstream, the first day of this Black River visit already a success with the landing of the aforementioned Browns. The skies overhead became increasingly sunny, after heavy rainfall accompanied by thunder that stopped just before I began my backpacking trip down along the stream. I suspect the precipitation cooled the river, providing a jolt to the the trout activity, because the water temperature became progressively warmer during my stay (I did not encounter any more rain after this initial downpour), and the fishing seemed to slow down accordingly in the following days along the mainstem. Nonetheless, I still found some fishing success in my ensuing time along the Black, particularly near deeper pools and runs.

This image shows the river near a confluence with a cool-water tributary, and close to my campsite. The currents maintained some level of turbidity throughout my stay, making the trout a bit less spooky despite the low flows of summer. Crayfish were remarkably abundant here, and no doubt provide a reliable food source for larger Browns and Smallmouth bass that inhabit the river. I also found this large, #12 mayfly dun inspecting my polarized glasses; I am not sure of the species, but several of these were visible hovering above the river midday (a large hatch occurred on the day I left the Black and returned to Flagstaff), and both the adults and nymphs provided a good mouthful for fish on the prowl. Actually, the #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph I fished represented the aquatic stage of this insect quite well, and probably accounted for the pattern's success in fooling some of the trout.

I was definitely taken with the rugged beauty of the river and surrounding country--large Ponderosa Pines dotting rocky hillsides, cliffs jutting up from the olive hues of the foam-flecked currents, and a certain undefinable wildness everywhere, with me half-expecting to see a bear or mountain lion at every new turn (I didn't see either, although I am quite sure they both thrive here, and I also did not encounter any people throughout my stay, although former campsites were in evidence here and there).

The gradient in this section was fairly low, and featured long, slow glides, occasional deep pools, and sections of riffles and pocketwater.

The pocketwater sections were often shallow, but any deeper holding areas often yielded fish, usually in the form of what I suspected were Apache-Rainbow hybrids, about 8-12".

The trout above was one such specimen, a good 11". Based on the "eye mask", coloration and spotting pattern, this fish may be a pure Apache, although it is hard to know for sure, given the presence of Rainbows throughout the system. These fish certainly struck and fought hard for their size, at any rate.

Wildflowers shone in abundance along the banks, including the sunflowers above, and multiple blooms of flowers I was unable to identify, hugging the edges of the stream below.

I found a couple of larger fish in the latter part of the second day; the first one sat in the heart of the riffle shown below, and grabbed a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph drifted through the main current.

The fish charged about the run, using its size and weight to its advantage, but eventually I pulled the bruiser close--a chunky 20" Brown trout, and the largest fish of the trip.

The Brown looked to be a female, with a relatively smaller head, and a curious overbite (almost like a snout), that is particularly noticeable in the photo below.

This was the kind of trout that I had heard inhabits the waters of the Black, and one of the reasons I came to visit here. I felt fortunate indeed to fool the mature Brown, especially in the slower fishing of late summer, capture a few images, and return the fish to the tinted flows, to live on and perpetuate its race. There is something about seeking out larger wild Brown trout that I have always found fascinating and rewarding--each individual fish seems to have its own preferences and eccentricities, they do not always cooperate (and can be downright impossible), but when the stars do align , and a big mature fish comes to hand, it is a moment to savor.

Deeper pools were scattered throughout the section of the Black River that I explored, including the one shown above, not far upstream from the riffle with the previous Brown. Here, the currents ran up against a steep cliff face, and produced a foam line right along the rock. This type of holding water always screams out larger fish to me, especially Browns (I did fish several other similar pools during my stay without success, although I suspect at least one good trout occupied each spot). I decided to tie on a #10 tan-bodied Neversink Caddis on 5X, as shown below, since numerous hoppers in similar dimensions were visible along the banks.

I have found that casting a big bushy dry along cliff faces of deep pools can sometimes bring up a larger fish from the depths, so I employed the tactic here. Within a couple casts right against the rock wall, I received a subtle, quiet rise, that quickly translated into a heavy, unyielding weight, followed by head-shaking and several reel-singing runs.

Finally, after a spirited fight, I was able to land another impressive Brown trout, this one a heavy, 17-18" male, with more color than the previous fish, and the beginnings of a kype on the lower jaw.

This may have been my favorite fish of the trip, as it was a big mature trout that fell for a dry fly--one of the great highlights in fly fishing, when it happens.

The following day, I decided to head up a tributary near my campsite and explore, but I began by fishing the pool shown above, along the mainstem. Some of the cliff formations along the Black were quite impressive, including the one abutting this run. A good riffle swept against the massive stone, and created a swirling backeddy up at the head (not visible in the photo). I had seen the quiet riseforms of what I assumed to be a good trout in the reverse current the last couple days, during evening BWO hatches (size 18-20), but I ended up spooking it both times. I saw a few more subtle rises in the foam scum line this morning, so I approached cautiously, decided to lob a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph, and let it drift against the cliff. I received a sharp yank almost immediately, and the fish raced downstream through the run, using the entire length of the deep pool to elude me. I held on, worked the trout back towards me, and gazed down at a fat, muscular Apache-Rainbow hybrid of about 15".

The fish resembled a Rainbow with its spotting pattern and overall appearance, but also contained a yellowish-golden hue, and hints of the black "eye mask" suggestive of Apache trout. I slid the strong hybrid back into the olive-brown currents, and mused on what it must have been like to fish the Black before exotic Rainbows and Browns were introduced. I suspect that some relatively large pure-strain Apache trout once reigned in this river, and they must have been impressive to behold.

I fished through the main run next to the eddy, and hooked up with another strong fish that bolted into the currents, and materialized as a healthy, dark 14" Roundtail chub.

This species is native to many of the watersheds in Arizona, and has also been called "Verde trout" by local anglers, due to its trout-like behavior (Roundtail chubs will rise much as trout do, can put up a good fight, and just recently have been included as an official gamefish in the state). They tend to thrive in warmer water than trout, and the presence of this one indicated that the river temperatures were not necessarily optimum for trout at this point in the season.

The specimen was relatively large by the standards of this species (although I've heard they can approach 18-19" in the right conditions), and I carefully returned the chub to its home water.

I wandered up a side tributary later in the morning, to fish in a small-stream environment. This stream has been known to produce some large Browns, and also contains an isolated sub-tributary with a pure-strain, original population of Apache trout. I tied on a #16 orange-bodied Neversink caddis, and worked my way upstream through pocketwater and small plunge pools, under a canopy of hardwoods and conifers.

I found quite a few willing fish (as long as they were approached carefully), but nothing out of proportion to the mountain stream (I suspect that large Brown trout and Apache-Rainbow hybrids do venture up the creek, but probably only during spawning season). I did lose one Brown in a shaded, deep little run, that would have gone 13-14". The trout above was a typical specimen, most likely a hybrid, 9-10".

I encountered this pool upstream, and landed a couple of fine fish on the dry. The first one was the nicest fish caught in the stream, a good foot-long trout with golden and violet hues along its sides.

This trout bore a striking resemblance to pictures of pure-strain Apaches I've seen, except the spotting seemed too small and abundant, and the "eye mask" was missing. All the same, it was quite a beautiful fish.

I was determined to find indisputable pure-strain Apache trout, so I searched for and discovered a tiny sub-tributary that joined the stream, and followed it up a steep, brushy slope. Sure enough, a series of small natural cascades soon appeared, preventing the upstream passage of fish from below. I continued above, where vegetation grew dense along the creek, obscuring the miniature runs, and creating challenging fishing conditions.

Fortunately, I was able to find a few openings in the foliage, and flicked a small dry fly into likely spots, such as the little pool below, using the best small stream stealth tactics I could muster.

I managed to bring a couple fish to hand, and lose several others--all fairly modest trout, but good-sized for their surroundings.

Here are a couple shots of one of the fish brought to hand--a fat 8" Apache trout, near the maximum size in this waterway, as far as I could tell. The pelvic and anal fins were edged with white, while the dorsal fin was tipped with deep orange. The spotting was fairly sparse, and the "eye mask" was quite evident. And the entire body possessed a golden-yellow hue, one of the most recognizable traits of the species.

All in all, it was a special moment to briefly admire the beauty of these pure-strain Apaches, some of the true native trout of Arizona. Hopefully, they face an increasingly bright future, with continued protection and restoration of their streams throughout the White Mountains.

Eventually, I wandered back to the mainstem of the river, where I fished a bit more in the evening and following morning (and caught some more Browns and Apache-Rainbow hybrids, although none of notable size), before making the drive back to Flagstaff. The Black certainly lived up to its reputation as one of the top wild trout destinations in the state, and I look forward to returning in the near future, hopefully during the spring and fall, when water temperatures are ideal for trout activity, and large fish are on the move.

New Home Water--Oak Creek, August 2009

2009-12-22T11:25:00.001-08:00

At last, Regan and I settled down in Flagstaff by mid August, and I was able to begin exploring some of the fly fishing opportunities around our new home in northern Arizona.

I started by delving into Oak Creek, my new home water, a mere 25 to 30 minute drive from our place. I fished here several times in mid to late August, and focused on the catch and release section (from Junipine Crossing upstream to the West Fork confluence). The stream here is marked by abundant tumbling pocketwater and chutes, and occasional longer, deeper runs and pools, flowing through a forested canyon of Ponderosa pines and Douglas firs. The water was low with the flows of summer, and crystal clear, interspersed with polished gray boulders, multicolored stones along the streambed, and thriving riparian vegetation. In short, the stream was a lush oasis, a beautiful sight for the scenery and the fishing potential it offered, and I couldn't help but think how fortunate I am to live in such close proximity to this place.

I caught the Brown trout above on my first visit to Oak Creek, a dark yet colorful fish of 13", using a 9' 5 wt outfit, 6X, and a #16 orange-bodied Neversink caddis. The fish rose near the tail of a fine cliff-side run, while I crouched behind a boulder and sedges, as evening took hold. A closeup of the side of the trout is shown below.

I caught another dark Brown around 11", a hatchery Rainbow of 9", and missed or spooked several other Browns downstream. From the outset, these fish proved spooky, particularly the Browns; not really surprising, given the wary nature of Brown trout in general, and the low, glassy water conditions. They demanded a cautious and careful approach, and while challenging, also often rewarded a well-presented fly with a confident strike--just the sort of conditions I enjoy in fly fishing.

I fished the stretch above later in August, and caught a number of fish, mostly wild Browns that are the gems of this creek, along with several Rainbows (one wild, the others stockers).

This Brown trout measured 10-11", a decent-sized fish through this section of Oak Creek as far as I could tell, and sporting some vivid colors, as seen above and below.

I stuck with dries for the most part on this day, using #16 and #10 Neversink caddis, and switched from 6X to 5X tippet when the light was off the water, with good results. I cast one of the larger dries into an eddy wedged between a log and boulders, and received an aggressive rise from a fish that proceeded to try its best to tie me off. Fortunately, the tippet held, and I admired a colorful, chunky Brown, close to 13", the best fish for this day.

Another eddy is pictured below, with a blackberry vine dangling over the foam-flecked lie; not the easiest spot to cast into, but places like these, affording cover and currents that provide food, are almost sure to hold at least a decent Brown, I have found.

I cast a #14 BH Peacock Soft hackle on 5X into the back corner of the eddy, and received a firm tug, materializing as a scrappy Brown, just under a foot, another beautiful, richly-colored Oak Creek fish.

A flat piece of water flows beneath the tree-lined banks of the stream. I spooked a good Brown around 12-13" from the very tail of this run.

And one more Oak Creek Brown, this one a good 10", that grabbed a #12 BH Krystal Hare Nymph in a chattering pocket downstream of the image shown above.

I provided a head shot as well, to highlight the dark gold and olive coloration, and the bright red spots that seem to adorn the sides of many of the wild trout in the stream.

I was able to begin exploring Oak Creek, a deceptive and rewarding stream that I immediately fell in love with at first sight, a heartbreakingly pretty piece of water, populated with some of the more stunning Browns I have had the good fortune to briefly admire. I look forward to trying to uncover some of its secrets, and hopefully fool some of the creek's better Brown trout.

Weber River, Utah, August 2009

2009-12-09T10:47:00.001-08:00

Back in the lower 48 after our Alaska odyssey, Regan and I drove a moving truck from Oregon to our new home in Flagstaff, AZ. I figured I might be able to sneak in a bit more fly fishing along the way, and I decided to fish the Weber River in northern Utah for a day. The Weber is known to hold strong populations of Brown trout, some reaching large sizes, and with fewer crowds than the Provo to the south, so it seemed like a good option to explore.

I worked up through a section of stream between Rockport and Echo reservoirs, essentially a tailwater, flowing through agricultural land. Public access points have been created through an agreement between the state of Utah and landowners throughout this area, an arrangement that certainly works out in favor for anglers. I cast into a pool near a bridge crossing at one of these access points, downstream of the riffle above, and quickly connected with a chunky, 15" Brown that grabbed a #10 Crawbugger, with a head shot of the fish and fly shown below.

I proceeded upstream, back to the riffle above, and worked through the run several times, before getting a strike from another spirited Brown, this one 16", on a brown #10 BH Girdle Bug.

This fish looked to be a female, with a silvery coloration and a relatively small head (it actually bore a striking resemblance to a Landlocked Salmon in my mind).

Both of these fish were real leapers ( more prone to jumping than most Browns I can recall), and strong fighters--healthy and tough specimens, that proved to be the norm for fish caught today.

I continued fishing upstream, and caught several other smaller Browns in pockets and along grassy banks, using mid-sized nymphs and a #10, tan-bodied Neversink Caddis (probably imitating the abundant hoppers clinging to grasses near the river). However, the larger fish were lacking, so I wandered farther upstream, until I found the shaded riffle run above, flanked by large Cottonwoods. I tied on a double nymph rig, consisting of a #10 BH Girdle Bug, followed by a #16 Zug Bug on 5X, as I suspected that some of the better fish might respond to a smaller pattern (despite an amber tint to the water, the Weber here is still a tailwater, and I came across more than a few anglers fishing through runs, to Browns that by their nature are probably more cautious and discerning). I began near the head of the riffle, and drifted the nymphs close to the far bank, where the main current of the run flowed. Within several drifts, the leader tightened, and I quickly found myself attached to a heavy fish. I fought a strong Brown over the next few minutes, a powerful trout that made several runs, but primarily sulked near the streambed, and used the currents to its advantage (this was the lone trout today that did not vault from the river). Finally, I pulled the brute close to hand, and admired a colorful, 19-20" male Brown trout.

The fish took the #16 Zug Bug, and its big jaws had begun to form a kype. Here is a closeup of the trout's head.

The fish shone a brilliant yellow-gold along the sides in the sunlight--truly one of the finer Browns I've caught in awhile.

I returned the male to the shallows of its run, and watched the Brown merge back into the deeper currents, before heading back towards the head of the riffle, and cast the nymph rig again. I hooked into another strong fish after several drifts, that materialized as a rather large, 18" Mountain whitefish.

This fish took the #10 Girdle Bug, and provided a spirited (if less lengthy) fight. Whitefish sometimes get a bad rap by anglers, but they are native to many watersheds in the West, an important part of the ecosystem, and I am always happy to see them thriving in any given stream.

I managed to connect with one last good fish in this productive riffle, a thick Brown of 16" or so, that unfortunately threw the hook on one of its multiple leaps from the water. It was also during this time that a pair of fly fishermen entered the river directly below me, began fishing several feet away, and informed me that they were not trying to pressure me out of the run. They seemed to be experienced anglers, and friendly guys that meant no disrespect, but in moments like these, it can make me wonder at a person's motives, when much of the rest of the river is unoccupied. No matter though, I had hooked and landed some beautiful fish from the Weber river, and caught a couple more in the 12-14" range farther upstream, on a brilliant sunny day--not bad for my first fishing outing in northern Utah, an area I intend to revisit with the rod and reel in the future.

Alaska, Part 3, July/August 2009

2009-12-09T10:11:00.001-08:00

On the last day of July, Regan and I returned to Port Alsworth and Lake Clark, to spend a few more days exploring this beautiful area, and make the most of the remainder of our visit before the trip came to an end. We stayed at the Farm Lodge (associated with Lake Clark Air) for an evening, and enjoyed the luxury of hot showers, an excellent dinner made for us, and a cozy bed. I also wandered along the shore of Lake Clark on a beautiful afternoon, and sought out the Tanalian river, a nearby tributary that is known for good grayling fishing at times.

I found a few of these beautiful natives upstream, in some of the quieter side channels to the main raging river (swollen with snowmelt, but still retaining a beautiful dark jade color). Here are a couple of closeups of a fine, 13-14" specimen that took a #12 Krystal Hare Nymph on 3X (I used 3X the entire time in Lake Clark, as the fish were not leader-shy). I noticed that the grayling in the Tanalian river were generally darker than those caught near Snipe Lake in the previous post, and these pictures show the myriad of colors well.

I made my way back to the river's confluence with Lake Clark, where the darker currents of the Tanalian met the smoky pale turquoise of the large stillwater, under sweeping skies.

The river slowed down as it approached the lake, and created a nice, deep run to the left of the gravel bar shown above.

I fished a brown #10 BH Girdle Bug, drifted it through the deeper currents, and was soon rewarded with a couple of good Arctic grayling, both chunky, 16" fish, including the specimen shown above and below (shortly after release). Notice the enormous dorsal fin, extending almost to the adipose fin--a sign of a male fish. It is hard to tell from these photos, but the dorsal fins on many of the larger grayling I landed were beautiful, with seemingly every color of the spectrum reflected in them, when held up to the sunlight.

I returned to the Farm Lodge and met up with Regan for a superb dinner, and then we both made our way back to the confluence of the Tanalian River with Lake Clark. The weather remained sunny and pleasant, and created an idyllic evening along the shores of the vast lake.

This friendly fellow followed us over as we passed some of the few houses near the airstrip of Port Alsworth, and stayed with us until sunset.

I cast up through the deep run that I had fished before dinner, while Regan photographed some of the sweeping landscapes surrounding us, and noticed a few size 16 lime and yellow sallies puttering about in the air. Soon, a few grayling began rising towards the head and center of the run, and I quickly tied on a yellow #16 Neversink Caddis, and began working individual fish. What followed was one of those marvellous times in fly fishing where insects were hatching, I cast a convincing enough pattern, and the energetic rises of multiple grayling covered the stretch of river, as evening turned to sunset and the last golden rays of day glowed on the water's flowing surface--a crazy, magical, productive session of fishing, the kind that can keep an angler coming back for more.

I landed about 10 fish in this period, most of them strong, sizable grayling in the 15-16" range, and a couple 17-18", including the one shown above and below, just before and after release.

The following day, Regan and I shouldered our backpacks, and hiked along the lone maintained trail in Lake Clark National Park, en route to Kontrashibuna Lake, yet another lovely stillwater here (and the source for the Tanalian River), for a couple more days of backcountry camping.

We passed a pond and wetland where moose and beavers are commonly sighted; Lake Clark and numerous mountains are visible beyond.

Eventually, we arrived at Kontrashibuna Lake, and searched for a campsite. I found this lake to be particularly scenic, as indicated in the image above.

We headed back down the trail after setting up camp, and wandered near the base of Tanalian Falls, an impressive, thundering chute of water. I surveyed the water, and found a great-looking pool, where currents joined together and produced an ideal holding area for feeding fish, amidst the churning whitewater of the rest of the river. I spied a few grayling rolling near the surface in this slot, tied on a yellow #16 Neversink Caddis once again, and experienced some truly exceptional dry fly fishing over the next several hours. I literally hooked a fish on each of my first 15-20 casts, and all told landed somewhere around 25-30 grayling. Half of these were large fish as far as this species goes, most 16-17", and a few that went 18-19", including the dark specimen shown above and below, one of the best grayling I've caught to date.

The larger grayling used their size and large dorsal fins to advantage in the strong currents, and proved worthy adversaries against a stout fly rod.

Here are a couple more closeups of the grayling, with the turquoise and lavender hues evident along the head and body.

And I included another look upstream at Tanalian Falls, a stunning backdrop for some of the most nonstop fishing action of this Alaska trip.

We eventually returned to Kontrashibuna Lake, after I had gotten more than my fair share of excellent fly fishing.

The lake surface grew still with the slanting golden sunlight of late afternoon. I decided to fish a bit more here, and cast the same #10 white Hareabou Leech that I had used with success at Snipe Lake. The water took on a smoky turquoise color where it grew deeper, felt chillingly cold even through fleece layers under chest waders, and held an aura of silence about it, broken only by the mournful cries of loons.

Fortunately, this stillness was also interrupted by the abrupt tightening of my line, and a good fish that made several runs before being brought to hand. I gazed at another impressive Lake trout, this one 19-20", with a more subdued coloration than those caught in Snipe Lake. I admired the predatory char a moment longer, and then watched it swim back into the depths of the pristine lake, with jagged spires of mountains rising above in the distance. It always strikes me as a happy arrangement that wild and native trout (and their relatives) so often inhabit places of such breathtaking beauty.

The following day, Regan and I hiked up to the summit of Tanalian Mountain, one of the major peaks looming above Kontrashibuna Lake.

The trail proved steep at times, but also afforded increasingly fine views as we climbed.

Regan paused for the camera in the photo above, about halfway to the top.

Kontrashibuna Lake was visible from one of several false summits, as shown in this image. Dall sheep are often seen along these slopes, although we did not spot any on this day.

Wildflowers bloomed in the fragile alpine landscape, including the Mountain harebell shown above.

Finally, we made our way to the summit of Tanalian Mountain, and were rewarded with some sweeping views of magnificent country. As I have noted in the previous Alaska posts, the magnitude and wildness of the landscapes here can make a person feel humbled, overwhelmed, and inspired.

Here is one last image from Alaska, a view of the Tanalian River just below the thundering falls, as we hiked back to Port Alsworth on our final day, before returning to Anchorage, then Oregon, and finally preparing for the last leg to Arizona, to begin a new chapter. Alaska was definitely a highlight of our summer travels, and I would strongly recommend a visit to all those who cherish wild spaces, not to mention fly fishing in places that may see few, if any, human visitors within a given season.