Fall Side

With Fall officailly here and the land of Yoda fast approaching, the secrecy involved in that venture made this was the last weekend I had to fish with the Garside. It has been a fine summer teaching another to fish, and now that the legacy has been properly passed on to the next generation. I feel I am done teaching another person to fish. Sure, I'll take newbies out, but I do not wish to spend another summer season of fishin' teachin' in "Merica". I learned so much from teaching this summer. I feel it not only helped me to improve but also forced me to do so as well. It was a personal test and lesson so rich, rewarding, passionate and profound. I questioned myself, my tactics, my philosophies, my patience, my "prowdness", who I am, what I knew and thought I knew, etc. The experience was a menage of frustration and glory. You want people to progress so much at whatever they're doing and whether it happens quickly or over many years, you still want it to happen. My pupil was awesome and I think she only got grumpy a few times over the summer. Amanda's strength and passion took over most cases of frustration and it was usually solved quickly with a little tug on the end of the line and a fish to hand.
This trip took us around quite a bit. We searched out older rivers we had fished previously and a few new ones as well. We hit new stretches accessed by different routes, roads, trails, and turns. We figured out on the first stretch that we like the other end of the river more. The other end requires a lenghty hike in, and therefore sees less people and less stressed fish. On the second river we figured out the original spot was better than above where we fished the third day. Yet, you have to seek it out to find its bounty or lack there of in this case. Then on the way out we hit another spot for a few hours before we headed south to go home.
Truly my goal over the last few weeks has been my own education in streamer fishing. I have been starting out with dry-dropper, snagging a few fish then switching over to streamers for learning and practice purposes. I am very good at setting the hook now with streamers, however the rocks, stumps, and sticks don't really ever surface. They put up a fight like a Mako shark, but still I can never get the rockfish, stickfish, and stumpfish netted. So... there I was, I mean it was there that I lost a bunch of streamers and nymphs. There was a pool, a glorious pool of enchanting possibilities. It was a magical scene that invoked visions of sugarplums, large browns, and cutts.
I pounded the water for 45 minutes. The pool was deep, I tried a few streamer patterns, some wet flies, some dry-dropper combos and nothing nothing nothing. I thought to myself that this had to be the sticky icky goo-E money honey spot and continued to pound the water, anger ensuing as the trout did not take what I was serving up. Yet, I would not give up... pound pound pound... then.... tie on another fly and pound some more. Not until the gigantic salmon fly worked. I thought really? After everything I throw at you bastards you take a gigantic salmon fly off the top... WTF?
(sometimes fish are jerks :-)
Amanda hooked into some beautiful fish, a few good size cutts and browns. Her excitement of weight clamped onto the end of her fly sometimes gets her too excited and she manhandles the fish to her feet with the strength of a WWF wrestler stacking some dude on a table and hitting him with a garbage can. Then picking him up and throwing him back to the table. Ok, slight exageration, however she is not afraid to bring a fish to shore. She lost two very nice fish because of this and when I offered up the explanation she said "I KNOW!" and sat on the bank to re-tie. I think this was the only moment of poopie diaper and she never lost another fish that way again over the weekend. Another lesson learned.


So, fall is here. Heading to see Yoda over the next few weeks then a possible trip with B.G. in the making to chase big bigg biggg fish the end of October. Snow will soon follow and my rods will lay in rest for pow turns. But that is still a month and a half to two months away...
and did I mention the food? MMM, beer can Cornish Game hen to round out the weekend!

B.F.E., WY

Had secret black-ops information of a highly classified, highly sensitive nature. Also known as the code of "keep your mouth shut about this place and I'll tell you where it is." Headed North of Utah in search of some bigger river with some bigger cutthroats. The drive was long and arduous, the mileage rolling on the odometer and the worries of live getting farther father away. Once in the woods and back lands of the west life really stops for me and becomes focused on nature. However long the drive on the pavement and the seemingly mundane and endless dirt road it was however also extremely scenic. The leaves had already turned up there into the bright Claude Monet colors of fall. This time of year reminds me of New Hampshire on the 1/8 scale. The magnitude of New Hampshire leaf peeping and the amazing scenes laid out before every tourist driving I-93 throughout the state, stopping to snap photos which can cause major pile ups, and the jaw-dropping vistas of natures canvas spread across the landscape in ROYGBIV is one of the only things I miss about New England. Yet, here in the West it seems no one really seeks out this aspect and time of nature in its utmost brilliance. There are so few people in the back country these days and those that are there are looking to kill some game. So, as it stands we have that in the west but again 1/8 the scale and 1/8 the crowd. I walked around and took so many photos of natures cool off and prep for winter that I probably spent equal time between gazing off, hitting the shutter and actually fishing... Then I caught some fish. The river was big and wide, the fish educated, and the weather was mostly cooperative minus a few bits of hail and rain every night. All in all an equation for good times with no fractions or remainders, solid math like 2+4=6. Solid adventure. I really don't know what I am saying now, so if you followed that malaise congrats, because I didn't. Let's visualize nature & fish:

Four Distinct Moments

The weekend had four distinct moments. In no order were they termed or decided. They were not ranked or judged. They were just the four distinct moments of the weekend that we reflected upon on the way home. They could not be ranked, they could only be appreciated and remembered. Here they are in no particular order:

First up. As we awoke the first morning we made coffee a few times to charge the system as it was lacking the juice to move. We contemplated where to fish and discussed our anticipation of what each location could bring, the different water types through the different sections of river and the challenge each section would bring. We packed up camp and started driving to spot one. On the way Amanda stated that she did not want to be charged at by a moose. I offered my input as I always do and noted that I never want to be charged by any big mammals... ever! I also stated that there are three things I am afraid of in Utah. Moose, lightning, and rattle snakes. I am the least afraid of the rattlers. So looking into the dark gray North Western skies I thought we may be in store for some lightning. As we parked and geared up, my back to the bush I heard cracking of branches and without looking shouted moose. Down below, directly where we planned to start fishing came a moose. He looked at us non too happy and eventually after getting close enough to make us retreat into the truck took off down the other side of the river. We decided to go in the other direction. On the way home we ran into him again at the same spot, this time he had his special lady friend with him... ahh fall dating!

Next was the exit out of fishing. We fished up for quite a while and decided it would be best to wrap up and get out before it got too dark. We made our way out for a short distance until the choice had to be made; bushwhack or go back and try somewhere else. The decision was to push forward; wrong idea. We wound up walking through one of the gnarliest beaver ponds ever, it smelt horrible. So bad in fact that when we got out we hiked back down the road and into the water to wash the stank off. The area looked like R.O.U.S.'s would be popping out to get us at any moment. You know R.O.U.S.'S? Rodents Of Unusual Size. We had to literally walk on top of the trees and then they would break testing the durability of our skin and the strength of our bones. The best part of the story was when we emerged back onto the road we were maybe 40 feet from the parking area and an easy trail in & out... oh well, it's all an adventure!
Next up, the moonrise. Friday night's moonrise was one of the most beautiful celestial events I have ever seen. Pictures do all the talking and still don't give it justice. You did have to be there to understand this.
Finally, as always the true goal of every weekend from the end of winter till the tram starts turning at Snowbird during the first few snow storms. The Fishing!