Idaho, Montana, and Oregon – August 2022 – Part Four

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Please click here for – Part Three

 

The Imnaha River & We Need a Bigger Net

 

We were pleased to find the trailhead and campground at road’s end fairly empty when we arrived Thursday afternoon. We wandered after setting up camp and found the Imnaha’s water down and clear. It was high with snow melt when we were here in early July. The Imnaha impressed us both when we first saw it and wished to return. We were very pleased to find the river in more fishable condition. I’m primarily an alpine small stream and lake fly fisher. I have little to no experience with larger rivers. But the Imnaha’s beauty drew me back to learn. And learn? I sure did.

 

We started on the trail early the next morning and entered the Eagle Cap Wilderness. A short way in we came upon Kelcey and Kory, two brothers starting out on a fly fishing backpack trip. The Lady immediately noticed the net on Kory’s pack.

“Wow, that’s a big net! That’s bigger than ours. Do you need one that big?” she inquired.

The fishing stories began. Phones were passed about with photos of the last stop on their fly fishing trip.

“Are there fish like that up here?” the Lady asked.

“That’s why we’re here,” Kelcey answered.

“Will our equipment work?” she asked.

“Well,” Kelcey replied, “You are already set because you have a fly rod!”

This how we met Kelcey and Kory, Oregon natives and avid fly fishers.

 

We were headed to the same spot on the river to begin fishing so we hiked together. The fishing stories continued. At this point, this story already had a fine cast of characters. Reaching the river, we found Kevin the Evangelical was camped with 3 young boys. The cast of characters definitely grew more interesting but, as Kory quietly said to me, “Not quite the quiet Wilderness experience we hoped for.”

Kevin and the boys welcomed us to the area and insisted we were not intruding. Kevin was a natural with his “evangelical” skills.

 

Kelcey had explained as we hiked, “They are the apex predator. They are aggressive. They eat other fish. The technique is large streamer patterns and you retrieve fast. No little fish wants to be close to these beasts.”

 

Kelcey walked up the big hole with Kevin at his side. He threw the long weighted streamer against the rock face on the opposite bank.

 

 

 

I never saw a retrieve like this before. The streamer ripped across the surface on the water. The big trout hit hard.

 

 

 

The young boys joined the crowd and Kory approached with the big net.

 

 

 

 

 

I was introduced to my first big Bull Trout.

 

 

 

The Lady came up behind me and softly said, “We need a bigger net.”

Kelcey is a fly tier and showed me a few of this fly patterns for Bulls. At one time he tied professionally for Meat Market Flies.  I said to myself, “We need way bigger flies.”

 

 

 

Kelcey has children and one of his sons is an up-and-coming professional fly fishing guide in Northern California. Kelcey put his dad skills to work with the red headed boy with a fly rod. The tutoring session began.

 

 

 

And led to success.

 

 

 

A very nice bull trout.

 

 

 

The lesson included proper handling of the trout and a careful release to not harm this noble creature.

 

 

 

I had never fished for trout like this. I did not have a single streamer pattern in my fly vest. The bulls were there, quiet on the bottom. It was an amazing experience.

 

 

 

Even more incredible were the spawning Chinook Salmon. The salmon loudly ran up the shallows with water spraying. The spawned fish protected their redds.

 

 

 

We carefully stayed away from the redds. We also avoided the salmon as much as we could. Many of the redds were marked with orange flagging, presumably by biologists keeping tabs on the Imnaha.

 

 

 

After a bit, I put my rod together, the Lady joined me with her ghost net, and we moved down the river from the group. I went to work.

 

 

 

We found this to be an awe-inspiring place. I worked hard. I floated large hopper patterns over and past the bulls. I switched to nymphs of all sorts, carefully drifting them past the heads of the fish. I enjoyed practicing and honing all these skills. What a place to do this! I worked on upstream skills. I worked on downstream skills. Not a single trout showed any interest in what I did or offered. The Lady noticed it too, “They want nothing from our lunch counter!” She went back upriver to find Kelcey. Kelcey and Kory were leaving, going on their way, but Kelcey, very kindly, gave me three small streamers my 4/5 weight rod could handle.

 

 

 

Forget about traditional fly casting with these small rocks on the end of your line. The Lady tried to keep her bursts of laughter unheard. She was unsuccessful. Good thing I was laughing too. Honestly, I was surprised I never banged the fly on the back of my head. I finally developed a crude cast that lobbed the fly across the river.

 

 

 

I had no success in getting a bull to eat. We moved downstream to untouched water. A deep hole churned below the riffle. A long gravel bar provided access.

 

 

 

On my first retrieve a brown back broke through the surface and slashed at the streamer. The second retrieve brought the trout up also. I cast a third time and began the retrieve. The big bull trout hit hard and my line sliced across the water. It ran downstream and was gone. It had thrown the fly. It was less than a second, hardly eight seconds for rodeo rules to apply. It was a thrill but no big bull for me. The brothers had left. Kevin and boys finally packed up camp and left also. We were now peacefully all alone. We stayed late and fished hard without putting a trout in the Lady’s net. Its size had not yet been tested.

We arrived back to camp late in the day. Even without bringing a fish to the net, it had been an amazing day and experience.

 

 

 

We could not get bull trout out of our thoughts this night. They swam in our dreams. Now home, I’ve learned so much more. It started with what Kelcey told the Lady, “Their waters have to be clear, cold, and connected.” This ties into what the article on bull trout I linked to said, “Presence or absence of Bull trout is an excellent indicator of water quality.” Bull trout only exist in special untouched ecosystems, and the loss of habitat has put them on the threatened species list. The Imnaha is one of the few rivers where the population is healthy enough to allow for limited catch and release fishing. Bull trout can live for up to 20 years –exceptionally long for a trout – and grow old, smart, and big. A large part of their food source is tied to the spawning salmon – eggs and young fish. If we can save the salmon, maybe we can save the bull trout.

 

We asked each other, “Should we stay and fish another day?” It was an easy answer.

 

Saturday morning, we hit the trail, shocked there was not a vehicle parked at the trailhead. Could we have this beautiful river to ourselves this day? We returned to the big pool. All was quiet. We were indeed, alone. The learning laboratory for this novice bull trout fly fisher was all mine. I tried everything. I varied retrieves. I tried all three streamer patterns Kelcey had given me. I fished upstream. I fished downstream. I cast and let the streamer rest on the bottom and waited until a big bull moved into position. I then flashed the streamer by the fish. Nothing. My god, it was fun. I only had success with one technique – rest the streamer on the bottom, wait for a bull to move into position, and then wait for another bull trout to move close to the first. Competition led to two hook ups with my line slicing across the water, but again the trout came off. What a rodeo but never eight seconds. We moved downstream to the big pool below the riffle.

 

 

 

Now mid afternoon, it was time for a break. We sat on a log, snacked, and watched the water. Several salmon moved up the river. One deep red Chinook moved by us close. Hard to see in the first photo (lower right), and much easier in the second. This place offered us the feeling of stepping back in time into an ancient landscape.

 

 

 

 

 

Julie stayed on the log. I waded out to the gravel bar and lobbed the weighted streamer as far down the pool as possible. I retrieved, stripped in line like a mad man. The fish hit like a tank and instantly stopped the line. It stayed still for less than a second and I could feel the pulsating power. It ran. “This one is on!” I called to the Lady. It fought in deep water and the line cut back and forth across the river. The Lady was beside me with her net.

“This will take some time,” I cautioned. “This is a different breed of trout.” What a thrill hanging on to a beast like this on my 4/5 weight rod! I was pleased with the reserve power my little rod had in it. The fish finally broke the surface. “Yellow,” I called. It’s not brown, not a bull. It’s a Chinook, new coming upriver, and a beast!” Julie estimated several minutes to bring it to the net - a net only half of it would fit into. Julie tried to lift the net with one hand and could not. “This is heavy and we do need a bigger net!”

 

 

 

The salmon was carefully released and “returned to its watery fold.” It was the largest fish I’ve ever caught. I was in awe of its power, that raw primal power that brought a salmon hundreds and hundreds of miles up from its ocean home to return to its birthplace to spawn.

 

I did not bring a bull trout to the net. Now that I’m home, I’m reading up on bull trout and fly fishing tactics. I’m the one that got hooked.

 

A big thank you to Kelcey and Kory, a great pair of fly fishers to run into in the mountains!

 

We left early Sunday morning and drove around the north side of the Wallowa Mountains before arriving at Fort Sagebrush near Baker City, our friends, Wandering Sagebrush and his Bride’s wonderful home. First thing we had to see was their brand new All Terrain Camper!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Lady gleefully shared all the fishing stories from our trip with our friends. She then moved on to a Scramble game with the Bride where the Bride won with an incredible score of over 400 points! Thank you to the wonderful Sagebrush duo for your hospitality and friendship!

 

We left the next morning on our two-day drive to return home. This had been a rewarding trip filled with adventure, Wilderness fly fishing, grand mountain landscapes, kilts and skillets, and old friends and new!