Henry's Fork Report: First Day

Monday morning dawned bright with anticipation. I had rolled into the campground the night before and set up camp in "our" site. C-17 was the place we camped on our first trip to the Henry's, and the place we have camped ever since. It has been the site of lots of good times over the years with brothers and friends. By now it feels like sacred ground.

Brother John had stayed in Idaho Falls the night before. He drove in shortly after the coffee was ready and we geared up and got organized for the first day.

A quick stop at Henry's Fork Anglers confronted us with the big news of the week.

In my research a few days before the trip I had discovered that the river level had been up the week before and had just come down. I had also seen a notice of a release from the Island Park dam that was supposed to happen on the 22nd and 23rd. This new information moved the "flush" up a day.

The consensus among guides was that the fishing would definitely be off "for a few days." We only had four days to fish, and had to wonder if our whole trip was on the verge of getting flushed. We began to think of alternatives right away. But the first order of business was to fish the heck out of our first day, which was to be the last day before the river went to hell.

We headed to the sacred waters of the Ranch.

We waded across to the big island and followed the path along what we call the Back Channel.

We set up where the channel widens out, near some small islands. This has been a magical place. This is where I caught my first decent Henry's Fork Rainbow, on a greased caddis pupa in the film as the evening advanced and the light waned. This is where I finally caught my first twenty-incher, and some even bigger, on a cinnamon ant after an ant fall that came like manna from heaven. Every inch of this stretch is filled with memories.

We were looking for bugs on the water, first, and then fish--hopefully big fish--rising to them. Nothing much was happening when we arrived. John caught a small fish, the only riser to be seen at that moment. Mainly we waited and wandered, looking for rises, and blind-casting to likely looking places to pass the time.

Then we climbed out and went on up the path to the head of the island and the main channel to see what was happening there.

And we talked things over, theorized and strategized, and simply caught up with each other's life.

Then we went back down the path to see what was happening back there.

Then back up the path. And then we did it all over again.

The fact was, things were slow. The hatches we did see weren't the right kind.

We'd wade in and look and then wade out and take a break on the bank.

All along, we weighed our options and discussed the pros and cons of staying here or going to some other stretch of the river. But when all was said and done we stayed, because we're loyal to this place, and because we know--we've seen it happen--that things could change any minute. There could be a good evening rise--and memories of magical evening rises filled our minds, when the river was covered and the air was filled with bugs, and the rises made the water boil....

So we stayed. But nothing happened. And our first day was over.

We made the decision to drive to Pond's Resort for a cheeseburger. That can always make you feel better after a slow day on the river. And there in the glow of five screens covering five different baseball games we planned our next move: we would strike out for the Teton River bright and early.

We went out to the car and were amazed to see a Christmas tree glittering in the July night. We figured it must have been a hard job to string all those lights. Why not leave them up and lit all year?

Back at camp we soon were nestled all snug in our beds while visions of Teton trout danced in our heads.

All Packed Up

All packed up and ready to go. Leaving first thing in the morning for a few days at the Henry's Fork. I'll let you know how things go.

Brothers

Brothers. What are you going to do? My younger brother Pete saw my comments about John in the last post and picked right up on it. He has been known to bait the two of us around the campfire, trying his best to get an argument going. And his best is pretty good.

In this photo Pete took on a trip to the Grande Ronde a few years ago John and I are obviously getting along rather well.

But in an adjoining dialogue in the email in which he sent the photo Pete picks up on the negative yet again. Still baiting. And he throws in brother Mark for good measure:

John speaking: "Jim, I've got to say I'm a bit disappointed. I tell you exactly what to do to catch fish, and then you go out there and do whatever the hell you want to."

 

Jim's response: "Did you see that woman fly fisher this afternoon? Nearly as sweet as Miss Wyoming. Or was it Miss Montana? Anyway, she looked at me."

 

Mark's response: "I saw her. She wanted to do me right there. I'm not kidding."

 

Pete's response: "Hand me another beer."

I have to hand it to Pete. In a few brief lines he pretty much nails it.

There are some factual errors, however. It was "Miss Missouri," named such by me in subsequent reminiscence because she was beautiful, and she told me she was from Missouri. When she talked to me. While we stood out in the Henry's Fork on a peaceful August evening. First time on the Fork. First time fly fishing. Looking at me with her big eyes. Asking about her fly--"do you think this will work?" Wondering about her casting stroke--"How am I doing? Like this...?"

So I said, "Wait here. I'll go get my brother John. He knows a lot more than I do."

The actual Miss Missouri Pool, the Henry's Fork

So. Where was I?

Oh yeah. Brothers. What are you going to do?

Give thanks for them every day. Love them. And go fishing with them every chance you get.

The Grande Ronde: Making the Most of It

I'm pushing to get a lot of work done today. Plan is to leave very early in the morning and be on the Grande Ronde no later than mid-morning. I'll be meeting my brother John. We've only got two days to fish, but we'll make the most of it.

He's making a big swing through the West right now hitting some prime fishing locations. He was going to be representing HMH at the big fly fishing show in West Yellowstone last weekend anyway, so he decided to make the most of it.

Free Plug

He stopped at the Henry's Fork first, went to our favorite stretch and, in spite of cold and wind, caught a beautiful Rainbow there. For old times' sake.

Today he's sampling the Clearwater for steelhead, and he'll be moving up the Ronde to meet me there tomorrow morning. He'll cap it all off with some time on the Deschutes.

Nice work, if you can get it.

The latest reports on the Ronde are looking good. There are slightly more steelhead than last year, and the recent rains have got them on the move. River levels are up but dropping.

Should be just right. I'm taking--guess what?--plenty of muddlerish dries for skating over those pods of fish hanging in those deep-green chutes.

Or maybe I'm just trying to make the most of it. But that's what we do. Wish us luck.

Long Live the Fork

I love the Henry's Fork, so had to share this photo from Chi Wulff. It's Henry's Fork Anglers guide Tyler Treece and client, and a 27--count 'em--27 inch Rainbow.

Mark McGlothlin wrote on Chi Wulff:

"A couple of days ago I was arguing discussing fishing the Henry’s Fork with a somewhat mentally constipated friend from Salt Lake City. His basic premise was that it was more or less impossible to find rainbows on the HF these days bigger than 20 inches as ‘they’ve been fished the hell out’.

I’m happy to offer proof that my friend is quite actually ‘full of poo’ as SWMBO would say."

Long live the Fork.

Memories and Something Tubey For the River

I tie on an HMH vise, and I like it a lot. I think I might have chosen it on my own for its classic design and sturdy functionality, but I had a little help. As soon as I decided to tie my own flies, my brother John, a co-owner of HMH Vises, gave me one. For free. When they got into tube flies he also gave me a complete tube tying set-up. I tied a few tube flies for awhile, but drifted away from them.

Now a new DVD from HMH has me thinking I need to revisit tube flies. The DVD will come with their tube tying kit and is designed for people new to tube flies. A teaser just came out on Facebook and on their website, and the rest will be posted in installments.

I admit, I was hooked as soon as I began to recognize people I knew or knew of. People like Craig Uecker--I fished with him and John on the Grande Ronde a few years ago, and Selene Dumaine--she ties superb salmon flies. And of course my brother, with a very nice Mainer Largemouth. He was proud of that big boy.

And then this guy. I don't think he told me I would be in the DVD, but what a treat to watch myself catching a nice trout in one of my favorite places on earth, what we call "The Back Channel" on the fabled Henry's Fork.

You can bet I remember that fish well. The day was working toward evening and the water was speckled with PMD's. Not a hatch, but the remains of an earlier hatch. There were plenty of little fish rising, but we were looking--unsuccessfully--for the tell-tale rises of big fish. We were hoping especially for some bank risers to begin working.

Then I saw a rise that seemed just a little different from all the rest. It was out in mid-river, and it was tiny--just a sip--but it was steady. The pods of little fish were cruising here and there, but this rise stayed put. So I cast to it and got a take. Just the tiniest little sip. I figured it must be a little guy after all. Even when I raised the rod and hooked him there was just a little tug. I think he was as surprised to be hooked as I was when he suddenly exploded. He lunged and ran and almost broke off before I finally got my act together and worked him to the net. All that commotion--and the fact I often talk to fish, especially when they're getting the best of me--got John's attention and he waded over with the video camera in time to capture me netting it.

That fish still had some fight in him when John snapped this photo.

What a beauty.

That was a nice fish, and it's fun to relive those moments. But that wasn't my biggest fish of the trip. That one came later.

But that's another story. Meanwhile, I'll look forward to the release of the rest of the DVD. And I think I'll get out my tubes and get a jump start on something tubey for the river.

Clouds

Supercell at twilight, Olney, Texas

If you follow this blog you know I like clouds. These photos are by Kelly DeLay, a photographer posting a cloud photo every day. They are beautiful. Go to his website at clouds365 for more. I've also added this link to my favorite sites list in the right margin. And I've added his blog to my blog list. Enjoy.

Summer storm over Snake River, Grand Teton National Park

Speaking of clouds, I learned on newswatch.nationalgeographic that cloud watchers believe they have discovered a new cloud type which they have designated as undulatus asperatus. In fact, there's an organization called  The Cloud Appreciation Society that is actively lobbying for official recognition of the name. This photo of undulatus asperatus, taken in 2009 over Cedar Rapids, Iowa, got the movement started.

That got me thinking of some of my photos from the Henry's Fork in 2010. What do you think? I think these may be undulatus.

That was a good day for clouds. On that same day, this evening storm followed us off the river. Yeah, I really like clouds.

A Sweet Combination

Spring and spring creeks. Now that's a sweet combination. My brother John and I are already making plans for this season's expedition to the Henry's Fork. Then, while browsing through the digital stacks at the Internet Archive on the first night of Spring, I came upon this book by John Shewey. Again, sweet.

Here's a Henry's Fork yarn from the book for your entertainment and edification. (Ah, the good memories of those near-death experiences!) May it help ensure that your own hopes for the new season will spring eternal.

* * *

That same year I hooked the largest trout I've ever encountered on the Harriman Ranch on the Henry's Fork. In the process, I overcame plenty of adversity. Big black flying ants and a smattering of Callibaetis were on the menu that day. I located two large trout feeding vigorously in a slick on the far side of the river and just upstream from one of the deepest parts of the Harriman section.

I would have preferred to cross the river and approach from that side, but I couldn't risk doing so with several other anglers in the area, any one of whom might wade in on those fish before I could position myself. Besides, I would have had to go well out of my way to find a suitable crossing.

Knowing the river deepened over there and knowing I would be in for a tough wade, I started well upstream from the trout. I waded 40 or 50 yards before getting anywhere close to effective range. By that time I was up to the bottom of my shorty vest and the river bed steepened exponentially from there.

Twenty-five feet away, the trout continued feeding rapaciously on the ants, patrolling feeding lanes about 18 inches wide. Between me and the fish sprouted a large weed bed. Normally that weed bed would have been a blessing, providing me enough cover to sneak up on the fish, which occupied a rather fast slick comprised of myriad swirls and seams.

That was my intention--to use the wall of aquatic weeds as cover and to sneak within 12 feet or so of those trout. Child's play. The next two steps put an end to that strategy, however, with the first taking me to wader-top depth and the second plunging me to my collar bone in cold spring creek water.

Thoroughly soaked now, I had to back off a step because the current nearly swept me down river. So the weed bed now became a problem. My line would land on top of the mat of weeds when I cast to those fish, leaving me with only a couple feet of drag-free drift.

I was only slightly upstream of the trout and I knew that a steep downstream presentation would eliminate the weed bed as an obstacle, but would leave me with a 45 or 50 foot cast. No matter, though--unless I wanted to start the whole wade over again--because I could barely budge upstream in the deep, fast water. I had no intention of wading back toward shore and painstakingly beginning my approach anew, especially since I knew those good flying ant hatches could be rather fleeting affairs.

So I decided on a big-time pile cast with an upstream mend. First I added five more feet of tippet, freshly coiled from its spool. Then dug my feet into the gravel and carefully false cast well away from the fish to measure the amount of line I would need. I drew a deep breath then shot a wide loop across and slightly upstream, aiming the cast skyward to bring the leader and line down in something of a heap. As the line settled, I reached as far upstream and out as I could and then threw a second upstream mend after the line hit the water. The line came to a standstill on the mat of weeds, but that extra five feet of tippet landed in perfect coils on the current seam just beyond, some four feet above the nearest trout.

All I could do now was wait as the fly drifted downstream, hoping I had provided enough slack line and leader to allow the ant imitation to reach the trout before drag set in. Under no tension, the fly drifted to within inches of dragging when the lead trout rose confidently. And a good thing because I could have never made a second such presentation without spooking those trout on the pick-up.

Landing that trout was a different matter. Suffice it to say that I successfully waded downstream through one of the deepest pools on the Ranch (floated through or flailed through might be more accurate). I even found my hat down by Osborne Bridge later that day.

* * *

Time to Make Your Henry's Fork Plans

A very positive Henry's Fork forecast for 2012 from Henry's Fork Lodge.

You've got all winter to dream about and construct your plan, and maybe much of the summer, too, if you take this to heart:

•The other end of the season, fall, delivers some of the most interesting and consistent fishing of the year.  I expect more of the same next year.  Angler traffic is at a low and wind is less of an issue the later you come.  My advice has always been that if you’re coming in September or October, the later the better.  The weather and water are cooler, the bugs are smaller, but conditions are more stable in October than September.  The fish are on their pre-winter feeding binge and dense hatches of midges and small mayflies bring them rising to the top in good numbers.  If small bugs aren’t your game, use big flies like streamers and go for big fish.

Of course, this is the Lodge, a place I'll never set foot in, and they may just be trying to drum up more high end business from the 1% who can afford their prices, and who would be warm and dry on those cold October nights in their plush rooms.

I love fall fishing at the Fork; we've had some of our most memorable trips in that beautiful, elky time of year. But I'll be just down the road at Riverside Campground, sleeping in a tent, and having a blast.