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

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Please click here for – Part Two

 

Back to Shangri La

 

It was an easy decision as we asked each other, “Where shall we go?” The world was full of options but the pull of that high lake we had just discovered in the White Clouds was overwhelming. “Let’s head back up there,” I said, “And spend a long day fishing now that we know the area and fish.” The Lady readily agreed.

 

Our approach was different this time as we made use of a steep 4x4 road to get us closer. It also assured we’d, most likely, be alone. We set up camp as the road’s end.

 

 

 

A pair of twin mule deer fawns were curious about us as we sat in the evening eating dinner. We never saw Mom deer. The two approached within 15 feet of me. Their faces spoke of curiosity. They hung out with us for close to an hour.

 

 

 

Since Phyllis Lake, a bit distant from our location, sat in a high basin aligned with the setting sun, we walked up to Phyllis to spend the evening. The lake surface was a mirror.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a truly spectacular evening as we slowly circled the lake.

 

 

 

We stayed until last light and hiked back to our camp in the dark.

 

 

 

 

 

We got an early start the next morning. The sun was just cresting the ridge lines as we climbed past the lower lake.

 

 

 

First light hit us on the climb as we went up.

 

 

 

 

 

In a short time, we were back at our new Shangri La.

 

 

 

We made sure our “fish eyes” were fully functioning. It was time to get fly fishing.

 

 

 

As much as possible, we’d be sight fishing for large trout. The Lady stayed above to have a good view into the depths. My bird dog was ready and I soon heard, “Catch that one!” The Lady was ready with her net. Performance anxiety was never an issue.

 

 

 

Although, as this tale unfolds, you will see many photos of beautiful cutthroat brought to the net, this was not easy fishing. This was technical fly fishing. The water was crystal clear and the big cuts cruised close to shore. If I made a mistake, it was obvious and a general murmur of laughter was shared by the trout. I could hear them laughing. If everything was prefect, that did not assure the trout would take the fly. There were many refusals. But this was just the kind of challenging fishing we had returned for.

 

Bottom line, without further ado, this was an exquisite day of Wilderness fly fishing. One that dreams are made of.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All fish were heavy and fat. This lake has more than ample food to grow big cutthroats.

 

 

 

We slowly circled the lake three times. We took note of the trout behavior and movements as we honed our skills.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At one point the Lady called out from her observation post, “Here comes one from down deep.”

Instantly a trout torpedoed out of the water, the fly in its mouth, and splashed back down after its flight.

“I suspect you meant this one?” I chuckled.

 

 

 

 

 

This cutt was a tank and so heavy.

 

 

 

Incredible, just an incredible day!

 

 

 

 

 

We took a long snack break and lay back in the sun. I said to the Lady, “I believe we’ve taken 8 big fish. A great day. I’m satisfied.”

“One more time around the lake!” she exclaimed. “We have enough daylight, we’re here, and we have this Shangri La all to ourselves!”

 

 

Note: most all of this day's photography is Julie's work.

The day had been a Wilderness alpine lake fly fisher’s dream. Our tally was 15 cutthroat 14 to 17 inches, heavy and scrappy. It was a joy. We only took 3 or 4 smaller fish. All were released in good condition. The nurse Lady makes sure of that.

 

We finally noticed clouds had built and we should pay attention to possible thunderstorms. We headed back down to camp.

 

 

 

 

 

It spit rain on our hike down but not enough to pull out the rain gear and pack flies.

 

 

 

We relaxed with our backcountry showers – pouring minimal warm water over each other with a small dab of biodegradable soap – and dinner.

 

Fine evening entertainment took us back up to Phyllis Lake to watch the world grow dark. We heard that mountain goats were in the basin, so this evening we climbed higher to better view positions. We, unfortunately, did not see a mountain goat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We again walked back to camp in the dark. We slept well. You know we did.

 

We drove hard the following day. We took back roads that eliminated any time on a dreaded Interstate. Late afternoon we were back in Northeastern Oregon along the Imnaha River on the edge of the Eagle Cap Wilderness. As we dozed off to sleep that night, we had no idea the next couple of days would bring one of our most incredible fly fishing experiences of our lives.

 

Our adventure continues, please click here for -  Part Four.