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.
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.
