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Lessons Learned & Into the Land of the Breeders
“I want to go fly fishing!” The Lady was adamant. It was more than time to get away, back out on an adventure. Here at the house we are surrounded by stupidity, one of the three great forces Albert Einstein told us rule the world – stupidity, fear, and greed. Each morning when I walk out of the house I’m reminded of what my Dad taught me so long ago when I was a little boy. “Son,” he explained, “It is better to have people think you are a fool than to fly Trump flags and remove all doubt.”
We made a long drive the first day, again dodging and dealing with thunderstorms. Arriving back at Steens Mountain in Oregon, with thunderstorms pummeling the high country in the afternoons, we grabbed a campsite at the much lower Page Springs.
The first day we spent on the Donner und Blitzen River accessed at the campground. We were not surprised at the number of fly fishers on this easy to reach stretch of the river.
It was still fun and we brought a few small redband trout to the net.
When staying at Page Springs, in the evenings we enjoy climbing up on the rimrock for the views of the Blitzen Valley.
The next day, you guessed it, we returned to Wildhorse Lake and its Lahontan Cutthroat Trout.
“One’s coming toward you on your right about 10 feet out from shore,” the Lady directed from her perch above. “Catch that one!” The Lady loves to see a trout rise to the fly and take it. “Here it comes. It sees the fly. It’s coming!” I hear the growing excitement in her voice.
“Fish on!” I announce and the fly rod bends.
I believe we again stopped at 12 cutthroat landed and released. It was another good day up here.
Our next destination was a return to the Imnaha River. On this blog post I chronicled my attempts at learning to fish for Bull Trout.This year I had new tactics to try, based on what I’d learned. I also had a 7 weight fly rod. I was ready for big fish. How would I do?
We left the trailhead and headed up the Imnaha River and quickly entered the Eagle Cap Wilderness.
A sign at the trailhead covers all the regulations for visiting the Eagle Cap Wilderness, such as a wilderness permit is required. They’re in a box at the trailhead. It is free. Fill it out, sign it, place the duplicate in the slot, and carry the permit with you. I’m bringing this up because the Imnaha and Indian Crossing Campground is close to large population centers in Idaho and Oregon. In the campground was a huge extended family group using three campsites. The group included over 25 people. 3 miles up the trail is a place called the Blue Hole, a very popular destination. It is inside the Wilderness area. It’s a deep long pool where the river exits a stunning gorge.
We were alone when we arrived. As I was assembling my fly rod, the group arrived, all 25 of them, including loose dogs and three horses on leashes led around like pets. No wilderness permit. Group size limit is 12 in the Eagle Cap. They had complete disregard for wilderness values and ethics. The loud city party lasted most the day. Swimming, screaming, splashing, jumping from the cliffs. Around a dozen spin casting outfits threw large treble hooks at the visible fish. The noise and chaos was unbearable. They were also clueless about Leave No Trace ethics, and I doubt they even cared. Principle Seven of Leave No Trace would have been a foreign language to them. We immediately left and worked our way downstream.
It took a while to calm the nerves and let the natural world around us come back to life. We were far enough downstream the sound of the river drowned out the noise upstream. I returned to thinking about fly fishing.
I put my new tactics to the test. The bull trout hit the large streamer hard and the line instantly went tight. This beast then ran and pulled out line. I hung on. It took refuge in deep water and pulled against the line as if daring me to try and move it. I could not. I’d need to wait until the fish tired. Finally I was able to start bringing it up to the surface. It protested with a couple more runs, pulling out line. The Lady was beside me, ready with the big dipper, the largest ghost net she has.
This was the only bull brought to the net this day. I tangled with three others. Two came loose from the hook fairly quickly in the fight. I had one huge bull on. From the couple of glimpses we got, well over two feet long. After several runs, it settled in deep water and held. As I applied pressure, the power of this fish reverberated up the line, into the rod, and then my arm. It shook then ran and took tippet and streamer with it. It was gone.
We stayed put until long after the huge group left. The new found quiet seeped into us, brought us back to the place we wanted to be. From our observations it looked like the group included three couples, a few extended family members, and a passel of children. They were breeders.
The next day we headed far up stream to the cascades, around 6.5 miles from camp. We enjoy this hike with its varied terrain. Also, get above the Blue Hole and you’ll leave most everyone behind. We did not want a repeat of the previous day.
The gorge section of the Imnaha above the Blue Hole is spectacular with cascades, deep runs, and waterfalls. In our naivete we believed it stopped salmon and bulls from going further upstream.
The cascade is striking with its clear water and pool below.
I brought the five weight as we hoped to catch native redband. The last time we’d hiked up here we ran into a group of Fish & Wildlife Service folks working on a Pacific Fischer project. In talking with one of the biologists, also a fly fisher, he told us about the population of native redband trout in the upper reaches of the forks of the Imnaha. This is what we were after.
At the cascade pool, the Lady went to work looking for trout. She was on the hunt. I assembled the new Winston.
“I don’t see any trout, do you?” she asked. In the crystal clear water a trout would certainly become visible.
“I haven’t seen a fish either.” I answered.
“Oh my god! Look at them! They just showed up! They are huge!” she genuinely sounded stunned. “That one, see it?” she pointed. “It’s deep red. It’s a salmon. The rest are bull trout. They are all the way up here!”
“So, that must be why there’s no little fish.” I offered.
We sat and snacked and watched these amazing fish. What a thrill it was.
“I did not bring any streamer patterns,” I said, “But I do have something that might be fun and get some interest from these leviathans.”
I removed the tiny dry fly I had tied to the tippet. I replaced the tippet with 4x and tied on a mouse pattern about 2.5” long. It would be on the surface so we both stayed low. I did my best to imitate a frightened mouse trapped in the water. I let the cascade carry it down into the pool below. I worked it along the edge of the rock, mimicking attempts to climb out and up. I tried not to over do it, tired to keep it looking as natural as possible. I kept at it. If something happened, it was sure to be memorable. And then it did. The monster rose from the depths like a rocket. It hit the fly and came out of the water. It dove, turned, and hit the mouse again, all in an instant. It did not get hooked. “Did you see that!” we said simultaneously. We were both shaking.
“We need to stay another day, hike back up here, and bring the 7 weight with us,” the Lady announced.
The 6.5 miles is a two and a half hour hike back to camp.
A new flower for the Lady – Streambank Wild Hollyhock (Iliamna rivularis).
A wonderful surprise awaited us back at camp, our friend Donna had joined us with her Tiger.
Donna joined us the next day for a return to the Blue Hole area. The huge group had left. It was much quieter. A father and son, arborists from Boise, had backpacked in and were camped at the Blue Hole, fly fishers pursuing bull trout.
As is the nature of fly fishing, my confidence from the previous day here was dashed. In a day of fishing, I hooked up and then lost only one bull. It was a hot day. All of us walked into the cold water and dipped. The girls soaked their shirts. We sought out a place in the shade of a large ponderosa. The father was fly fishing in the large run below us. He engaged the girls in conversation. He was there, he said, with his son who works with him in their business.
“I have five sons,” he offered from his knee deep wading spot.
“Five, are you Mormon?” the Lady asked.
“No. Let’s just say I do love the ladies.”
“You do know you can pound a cork in the end of it?”
No, the Lady did not say that. I was surprised she did not. Later, I asked why and she explained she was thrown off by the fellow’s deliberate use of the plural, ladies. This was only the beginning of our encounters with breeders.
It rained overnight. It must have rained harder up country. The Imnaha, in the morning, was the color of mud.
The Lady and I decided to hike back up to the cascades while keeping an eye on the weather.
I put my tactics to work.
With the murky water, the bulls were not in the deep water. They were down in the shallow tailwater along the bottom edge of the pool where visibility was better for them. The big bull hit hard. The line came to a sudden stop and then zipped back and forth across the water. All I could do was hang on and try to control direction with pressure. The bull then went deep and stayed there.
“Look at the bend in that rod!” the Lady called out in her excitement. The Lady is fun to go fly fishing with. Yeah, an understatement.
Finally, with pressure, the fish moved toward the surface. We were both on our knees on the edge of the rock above deep water. The Lady handled her big dipper net.
The opening of the big dipper is just under 20” in length. The big fellow was carefully returned to its watery fold.
We kept fishing until a flash of lightning and simultaneous blast of thunder rocked the canyon.
We hiked back down the trail, off and on pulling on rain gear. Back at camp, Donna is always a wonderful addition.
The clouds broke up at sunset. We got a touch of evening color.
I’ve written about learning to fly fish for bull trout, being schooled by the incredible beasts. I was introduced to bull trout here on the Imnaha by other fly fishers up here specifically for the bulls. With schooling and lessons learned over the last several years, my techniques and tactics have improved considerably. Although the regulations that I can find state “catch and release only” for bull trout on the Imnaha. In another place in the regulations I’ve read that bull trout cannot be specifically targeted or fished for in Oregon and must be immediately released if unintentionally caught. I’m confused. Fly fishers are on the Imnaha targeting and fishing for bull trout. I want to follow the regulations.Until I sort this out definitively, I will no longer fly fish for bull trout in Oregon.
Our adventure continues in the upcoming Part Two.
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