Alaska 2009- Outfitters List

Here's where we need to keep track of the "improvements" and lessons learned form AK 2008 to improve the experience in 2009...

1. Home made PVC assembled rod cases for stowing assembled rods on the raft so they don't break. We need to make some this winter and send them up to Mike.

2. A bigger tent that all of us can sleep and stand up in. That way if we have bad weather we can just put the chairs in the tent and hang out for a few hours until the we warm up or the weather clears etc.

3. Put the chairs somewhere convenient on the raft so we can easily get them off during the day and sit and relax... one of the biggest challenges was fatique because we'd fish so hard and then get exhausted. If we take breaks during the day we'll be able to fish more effectively for longer.

4. Red bull during the day??? (see #3) sounds good.

5. Spinning rod for fishing while floating, casting the fly rod while floating was nye unto impossible. Just bring one spinner and we can take turns usinig it.

6. Sterno logs for instant fire- take as many of those as we can bring.

7. A big net for landing those monsters???

8. Better waders and much warmer clothes (of course 09 it will probably be hot and dry the whole time, but better safe than sorry)

9. Cargo net for ease of anchoring down gear in the raft- that would have been a real time and effort saver.

10. Hi Def video camera... Han's vid is so much higher quality than mine, you can really see the difference when you watch on a hi def TV. I may get a new hi def camera before we go.... maybe.... Also, we need to shoot underwater images of fish landing and releasing, that would have really cheeried out some of our fish fighting scenes.

11. Two remote control detonators for fireworks. (Bear Control)

some of these things we ought to mail up to Mike, before hand? oh, and more Licorice.

That's what I can remember, feel free to add to it...

12. Updated will- although most of my valuable fishing gear will likily parish with me, someone may want my shotgun and hunting vest and someone will definately want my Bird Dog- you remember that trout pointing son of a biscuit eater, the old Dunstan Retriever!

High Country

Some vid's from our recent trip to the High Country of Central Utah...

High Country

Some vid's from our recent outing near Fish Lake..

Back on the Horse

Well, I did it. First one back out after the Alaskan Episode. Just wanted to report, "it's all good".
there is life after AK. You will cast again...

ALASKA-The Last Frontier

ALASKA RULES!!

Gov'na with a Chum.Mule with a Grayling

Our lake home.
The Falls.
Pablo with an Artic Char
Nice Chum for Mule
View of our river and rafts

A Dolly for Gov.
Another.
Mikey with a couple of great 'Bows

First fish after the Falls, monster Char
Pablo's Chum.

I've updated all of our fish day totals. Still assembling photos and video...here's the movie, at least the first cut.. if you'd like a copy, send $5 to me. Pablo. thanks.

Brown Sugar is now Rainbow Sherbet (08)

Caught some nice fish this trip.. funniest part was watching the Gov take a swimming lesson. the second video is right after he picked himself up, he went head first and down deep. Notice the Mule splitting a gut in the background. Also, he still HAD the fish on!

This is the 'bow that brought about the swimming episode, notice the soaking of the Gov.

Brush with the Law, ID.

will post photos and entry later..

Farewell and Adieu to ye fair Spanish Ladies

... farewell and adieu to ye ladies of Spain. Special bonus points if you can name the movie that tune hales from - here's a hint, there is a fish involved.... That was our theme song as I took Morgan and Christian to hit the J Fork for the last time until October. We hacked our way into the gorge section. My plan was to get them to the big pool where they could "indian fish" for trout with out wading and moving around. I was very concerned as the water we passed was desolate of life and on the final bushwhacking descent to the pool, I cam across a fresh and empty worm carton, could that be a sign? Had the pillaging already begun.

Fortunately the big pool was stacked full and as the girls finally learned how to spot fish in the water, they became excited. The videos pretty much tell the story.




Only final caveat I'd add is that I caught 7 on small dry's, mostly at the head of the pool and struck up a conversation with friendly and forthcoming piscator who shared with me two lovely spots he'd fished but blast my poor short term memory, no matter how many times I repeated the locations over and over in my mind, by the time we hit the trail out, they were no where to be found! As Pablo counseled after the fact, I should've turned the video camera on him and got the directions fully archived for future pilfering. Oh well, one more shangrela to pour over maps in search of....

Cherokee People...

Cherokee tribe....So, my buddies here in the ward had grown tired of my weekly fishing reports in priesthood, so they decided to call me on it! Frank took the bull by the horns and got us camp site at the Cherokee reservation, we loaded up his pop up camper and headed out on Thursday morning, after a meeting I had. It was raining and miserable that afternoon and none of us faired well. But an eerie thing happened the next morning... After we survived a night of steady down pour and I dominated the Hearts game (I only cheated on one hand, late in the game when everyone was tired, I sat on the queen as all the spaids were played out and threw her on an unsespecting hand a few rounds later...). Anyway, as we milled around the next morning, assessing the "sitcheeashun" up drives a big tanker truck and out jump two guys who scoop out a big net of fish and chuck them in the run right behind our camp site... "You aint in wild water any more dorothy".

Well, that's about the story. We hit some othe spots without a lot of luck, it was shoulder to shoulder, you'd be working a stretch of water and a truck would pull up and two dudes would jump out and come down next to you and start throwing away! We spent most the day in the camp taking turns pulling them out of our spot. Someone got some pictures of the cooler full- but I didn't. We had a great time! My buddy Bill, pictured above, had a great experience matching the hatch and catching some hold over or wild fish late Thursday evening. That may have been his first time seeing them come up and take a dry fly, he was ecstatic.

J Fork- More of the same only better

Just as planned, I got to the water right at 1. Couldn't resist my old gorge section, so started right off at the Rangers house. Immediately into trout. It was a beautiful day, no other sign of life (non aquatic that is) and plenty of trout in every run. I think this guy here was the first one, hence the picture, if not, he was about the average size of the fish, which I did measure this time with my little tape thing, and they were mostly about 13", some a little larger, some smaller.

Hey Pablo, don't you wish you had this nice water to prospect! No pocket water here, long deep runs and big pools- which have their own challenges, but when they are on, there isn't anything better.. I was also surprised how much difference two weeks had made in the foliage. Everything was green and it gave the stream a whole different feel.

At the big pool, I caught several nice fish, one of which broke off my poorly tied tippet and had this huge salmon fly hanging out of it's mouth- it was funny, you could spot him anywhere in the pool. I was heck bent on getting that fly back, so I tied on another big fly and drifted into the pool, several fish struck at it and I lost track of what was happening, but I had hooked a fish so I started to land it and as it came in, I saw the first fly hanging out of his mouth- HE HAD TAKEN THE SECOND FLY WHILE THE FIRST FLY HUNG FROM HIS JAW! I was cracking up and elated that I was getting my fly back... this had to be documented, so as the trout settled down, I set my rod down and got the camera in place, as I went back to retrieve the trout- he was gone, he'd gotten off! I just died laughing, no one would believe this tale, but I swear it is true, and I never did get that fly back, in fact I didn't see that fish again, or maybe he rubbed the first fly out and I couldn't distinguish him any more.

Any way, there was a monster brookie in the pool and I spent too long getting into position to cast to him and finally, after multiple casts and patiently waiting for him to come back from his runs to the head of the pool, he took my big salmon fly and ran me up to the top of the pool, chasing him through a bog of leaves on the edge of the pool and then back to the middle of the pool and then under a rock which somehow I navigated around until I finally brought him into submission at the tail of the pool by some grass. Big, big trout!

After landing the monster it was closing in on 4pm so I went back to the pool where I had caught a number of brookies on top (see the upper video) and I tied on a little red humpy and took two more from that pool and decided it was enough for another great spring day! I hadn't covered hardly any water and I wished I could go back to the dry fly water I had visited two week ago, but I'd promised my wife I'd be home in time for dinner so I bushwhacked out of the gorge and up to the road, possibly wallering through some poison oak (heaven help me if I did).

That I'd better add this pic just so you could get a really good look at how nice this trout is!

Delayed harvest on the south fork on a weekday is the place to be in May. It'll all end in a few weeks and I'll try my luck back on the wild waters, but for now, I'm feeling like a champion piscator on this beautiful little creek.

Hard Days Day

This video about sums up my day. Headed up LHF around noon, 55 deg. Gate still locked, water a bit high and off color. A few cars parked at the gate, I hiked in about a half hour or so, was hoping to get above anyone else fishing.... should've keep walking.
I tried all sorts of flies.. you name it. No hatches..no rises. I manged to land a couple small fish.. missed a few strikes while I was using a big Woolly Bugger. It seemed like it was just going to be one of those days that you wish to soon forget, one that makes the good days all the more sweet.

I fished for quite some time, covered a lot of water. I am getting a bit "tired" of fishing rough pocket water.. makes for hard casting and tough conditions, especially when the water is high, and the fish are not looking up. I long for something along the lines of "Hog Creek" were the water S curves through the sage, and deep runs are a plenty, and so are the big Cutts.. I know, I should be content with the muddy little stretch of ditch water that I angle. I feel I am probably done fishing until June, run-off is going to be a bear.. unless... I find some nice tail water... yes... perhaps...

Back to Reality!-2

Good to see I'm not the only one suffering from the whims of the fish gods. I ventured forth on Monday, seeing how it was finally warm outside. I thought I'd just "check" the water clarity. I had to take a trailer, not my dog, but son. Even at 5, his fishing patience is lacking. If you can't hear the audio, he says, "I want to go home, I'm tired of fishing."
The gate was locked, so I jumped right in and started flinging away. I didn't even see any fish, strange that. Thought maybe I was fishing behind some chump, but I could see upstream quite a ways, and no one in sight. Alas, I finally found a couple trout rising to a caddis hatch.. I stung one, and that was it. I actually had to put on a dropper, of all things.. I quickly hooked two decent sized ones, but that was it for the day.
Where I quit, there was a huge tree that has recently fallen, creating a very deep pool. So I took a photo, I know, boring. As Dixon and I were walking back to the car, someone came strolling up from behind us, yes, an angler. Explained a lot. He said he had fished from the gate way on up. His rod was strung with the "N-word", explains why he only caught 4 he said. Ah well, end of story. No more kids next time, for sure, bout as bad as dogs.

Back to Reality!

No joke, I was so excited to hit lost cove Saturday that I tossed and turned most the night, dreaming of wild browns and rainbows. Because of the sleepless night I didn't hit the road to after 9am. By 11 I was on FR 424 (having followed my impeccable directions from 3 years ago). A persual of my fish notebook revealed entries from 10 years ago itemizing nice wild fish caught there, averaging about 4 per hour, a great catch rate for the skittish wild trout of western Carolina. The most recent entry was 3 years ago and it wasn't too good, but it was from February, so I assumed I'd have much better luck with a late April outing.

It's a long curvey road route up 181 and then the switchbacks of the forest road. I had the dunstan, Lil Ann in the backseat and I was driving Christian's car so I wouldn't trash my own. I have even pulled a blanket across the backseat so Lil Ann wouldn't perminanty foul her car. I looked back at one pittiful looking dog as we made our way down the FR. She had syliva running out of her mouth like a rabid coon and bowed her head a couple of times to wretch out the empty contents of her stomach (I had learned from a previous outing that dog food and car rides don't mix). I kept telling her to laydown and put her head down, but she just couldn't resist the intoxicating whire of trees outside her window- no matter how nausious it made her.

I was still debating wether I should hit the upper or lower section when I came to the trail head of the upper section and to my absolute shock and horror, the gate was open and FR 424a, wound it's way3-4 miles down to the stream. I imagined a slew of rusty old trucks and beer cans awaiting me at the end of the road. I have never seen that gate open and I always surmized tha the 52 minute walk to the stream always kept the upper section a little more pure, so much for any barrier to entry. So I opted to try the lower section. At the parking area were three vehicles. I dutiful perusal of the backseats didn't reveal any rod cases so I hoped against hope that they were just backpackers.

I should have taken it as an omen when no sooner could I hear the guggle of the stream than I hear people, and dogs, and people. It was like grand central station down there. Backpackers and neardowells stumbling over themselves. Man I hate fishing on Saturdays.

I strung up and walked a ways out of the traffic jam and hit a little section of shallow runs and on the second cast struck a 7" rainbo.... maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Besides I had my 90 new flys and fly boxes I had just bought so, just rummaging through those was fun. Check out that fly above, it's a high res elk hair caddis. It's got some orange stuff tied into the elk hair on top so you can see it really well, even really small ones like size 20- pretty cool.

One bright spot... we knew the dunstan could point a trout, but I also learned she can retrieve one, and what a soft mouth she has.

So we headed back out shortly after the she fetched the mini brown, and although the weather had been excellent all day long, the pending thunderstorms found us so we enjoyed a nice wet ride home... till next time.

Desert Duo

This post may pale in comparison to the Gov'nas, but such is our luck. The Mule and I are destined to explore and detail new water, going without sleep, driving long distances all in the name of trout exploration. So our story is not one of flashy finned fish, nor lurking lengthy leviathans, but of non genetically disfigured trout in wily western waters.

Our Tale begins....

The most eventful part of our drive was chasing a jackrabbit down a dirt road for a mile. Poor rabbit couldn't turn left nor right for fear of falling off the precipice on which we drove. Sheer exhaustion drove him to lay down as near to the edge of the cliff, and let us pass on the right. The whole while we laughed saying, "we should be videoing this". We arrived stream side at 2 am.

A few hours later brought daylight and the first post moonlight inspection of the water to which we would spend the day fishing. The stream looked high, and the water was off color.

It took a bit of time to actually "find" the trout in this new water, as I was having visions of "Linville Gorge" syndrome (ask the Gov about that sterile stream), I came upon this pool, and quickly spied a trout that I soon caught. Several others followed before the Mule hooked a mini, and left the ranks of the "skunked". For a few hours we fished upstream, taking many small, but beautiful Bonneville Cutthroat trout. Combat fishing at it's hardest. The trout were unwise to the willy ways of the wayward piscator, thus enabling us to almost stand directly on top of the fish, while catching them just off of our rod tips.

Around Noon, we headed back to the area in which we began, took a small break and planned the afternoon attack. We decided to head downstream, into what we called the Gorge section of the stream. This area of the stream was confined within pale Sandstone and red Kayenta cliffs, very narrow. We bushwhacked through prickly pear cactus, and thorn bushes that threatened to make our waders even more breathable.

Till 5 pm or so, we fought our way upstream. Fishing some pocket water and many pools. The trout were fairly eager, and even a small hatch of midges and mayflies came off. I will say that we caught many fish, the largest being 12", none so big as to warrant a gloating southern accent back into the camera. End tally, many fish caught, two dog tired anglers happy to explore new water and would be willing to return some day, just not as the main destination. I will state though, that fishing for wild cutthroat trout in this lovely desert setting was odd, yet quite inspirational. And anytime one has a chance to wash off the dust of daily trials in cool trout infested waters, is fine day indeed.

Prolific Jacobs Fork

Last week as I was wrapping up, I did quick recognizance of the upper section which I had not fished in years. It looked like good dry fly water, so when I arrived about 9:20am I drove to the upper parking lot and jumped in just above the bridge.
Tally ho! I was off to a good start.

How do like that hat action! Remember "Wild Kingdom"- Stan Stock (he was the original crock wrestler before Steve Irwin.) Plenty more where that came from mate... I cleaned that pool out completely. Right after that pool I switched over to a dry fly because the water was "perfect dry fly" and with out much delay, got right into them.
These are not in order, but wanted to get to the punch line, these were the biggest, but there were many more that were just a little smaller than these behemoths! I have a secret technique for taking these big fish in deep pools. They have seen a bunch of piscators and a bunch of flys, but as you can see from the pictures and the video, I have found the secret sauce for these trophies.




Don't you like how she posed with her head against my reel!




Look at the girth on this fellow! No joke, these fish are hard to land because you can't get one hand around them. I seriously need a net! I have to wear them down until I can safely set my rod down and reach down and haul them up with both hands!
After Pablo demoed his video prowess, I was sitting eating and chilling and saw this fish rise in the pool right in front of me... dare I????





After several more fish on dry's in this upper section, the stream was becoming narrower and there were a ton of kids running up and down the trail and some playing in the water above me ("come on kids- what are you, raised in a barn!). Plus, I had a meeting scheduled back at the office for 2pm, which after 30 minute on the water I had decided I was going to be "unavoidably detained" so I needed to get back to my car and at least try to give the bloak a courtesy call! So I jumped out and headed back down stream. Meanwhile I noticed a fisherman working his way up a couple of hundred yards behind me. "Hey mate," I called out as I walked past him, "any luck?"... "Not a thing" he morosely replied... "Yeah," I hung my head, "me neither,well, good luck!"
I made my call and notice on my black berry that Pablo had called- it was killing him I know. I headed back down stream, hoping against hope that no one had jumped in at the rangers house (the section far removed from road and trail, where the stream get's tight and deep and the big fish reside). To my sheer joy, I found the spot empty, so I parked and trotted past the rangers work building and lawn mowers and eased back into the water... this day had been great, could it become prolific?


This rainbow came out of the same big pool where I took he monster brookie last week. I stalked her for several minutes, getting into meticulous position and then patiently waiting for the fish to ignore my presence. The tricky part was avoiding all the smaller fish in the pool. I had to wait for this one to come to where I could cast to her and then, "do that thing I do" with my secret fly and once she took it, she ran the length of the pool, yanking the line out of my hand and taking me to the reel. Scared me that I wouldn't be able to land her, so I fought her around for several minutes until she was sufficiently subdued and then eased her into my hand. Unfortunately this was toward the end of the day and I didn't have enough memory in the camera to take video (though of course right after I released her I realized I could delete some less entertaining vid and have room, alas). After I took the 'bo I had seen a brookie at least as big as the rainbow so I worked back into position and had a shot at him, but he must have just barely had the fly because when I struck I just had him on for a second and he was gone- have to look him up next time.

And the finale.....

So there you have it.. and by the way, I did end up with an eastern triple crown, brookie, brown and rainbo. Only caught one brown right before I jumped out of the dry fly water higher up were I started.

Vide-O-Rama Triple Play

Sometimes there's a price to pay for solitude. I paid walking 4 miles through slushy snow and mud. Really not a bad asking price. I found myself heading up above the "lake". Hadn't been there since last May with the Mule. What a gorgeous day, sunny 70 deg. As I crested the dam, I was shocked to see the lake still mostly frozen over. Then it dawned on me, "I live in Utah". Don't know what I was expecting or thinking.

As I walked in past the gate, I could tell not another soul had ventured forth down this long and lonely road. Good sign. The water was a bit high and off-color, not the best sign, but not one that would deter a die hard piscator such as myself. I ended up fishing all the way up to the confluence with the right branch, and then just a bit up the left branch. Nothing happening up that branch. The last 3 trout I hooked, I did not land. Much to my chagrin. They were all nice fish. The lackadaisical way they rose to the fly and just barely inhaled it, left me hooking them only momentarily. I hate that. So the day ended on a sour note, but as I sat under a cottonwood, sipping my fresh stream cooled DMD, thinking of how I had caught a triple play, I knew that this was fishing in all its glory, and I wouldn't have it any other way. 'Cept for the 2 mile hike out.

A Trout in the Hand isn't Worth a Camera in the Bush

I'm now officially addicted to the jacob's fork. I got back out under better weather conditions on the 8th. Alas, the fish had obviously seen some piscators because they were much more savvy than the week before. I was sneeking around in the underbrush and came upon this monster sitting out in the open of a long run. But the cover and approach was almost impossible.

He had to go 24" bow to stearn, rivaling the dude I caught the prior week. As you can see from the video, I had no approach. It was all I could do to get a picture from the underbrush.

Ok, it's not that easy to shoot yourself at arms length, nothing like the "talking nose". Anyway, I bushwacked above the big brookie and thought I'd do my patented downstream drift approach. Unfortunately, no sooner had cleared all the trees and eased into the water, I spooked a smaller fish which darted downstream and spooked the big guy- I never did see him again.

I caught a small brookie in a smaller run and then eventually made my way to the big pool where I had caught the big boy last week. One problem with sight fishing is you tend to walk past some nice water because you don't see anything. Later in the day I was just messing around on top and caught a brookie where I hadn't seen anything- so I sort of repented for my previous "retail" fishing. Anyway, in the big hole, they were all stacked in there just like before, but they had been educated. I switched fly's six times, changed approaches three times and all I got was a couple of "nosings" and a bunch of "look and leaves", very frustrating. Finally out of sheer desperation I tied on a monster egg leach thing Pablo had sent me for the Alaska trip and I wagged that harpoon right in the face of the biggest fish in the pool and finally, out of frustration and aggression he hit it. I landed the big boy and set my camera up on a rock. Got in position to shoot my movie and knocked the camera off the rock into the stream, scrambling to save it. Meantime I'd already unhooked the fish and left him sitting in some shallow water and while I was cursing and blowing on the camera, he decided "the instution no longer offered him anything and he'd release himself on his own recognizance". I dropped the camera on the bank and scrambled to scoop him up out of the shallow water before he fought back up current into the pool. So with a squirming 20" trout in one hand I got the camera and turned it on, only to find that the batteries where dead!

The peace and tranquility of the trout habitat was shattered by a primeval scream of the champion piscator who had no way of capturing his trophy for display to his doubting thomas comrades... What would Traver do? I did think long and hard about slipping that boy down my waders (see "delayed harvest brown, 1998"), but I thought myself a better man than that, so I turned him loose.

That was pretty much it. I fished up stream a ways but only caught the one small brookie. I walked back to the car and drove further upstream to the trail head for the backcountry area of the park. There were 5or 6 vehicles parked there, and as all suspicious disciples will admit- I just knew they were all fishermen working their way up stream ahead of me. I walked out on a bridge and surveyed the beautiful dry fly water that lay above me, and area, probably the only area of this stream I've never fished, but decided not to follow in anyones waders. As I turned to leave I spied a 20" bewildered looking rainbo hanging in shallow water behind a boulder and thought of stretching a line, but decided to head down stream to the park entrance and check out that water.

I drove back down to the main park station and jumped in at the bridge. For the next 1/4 mile I found only shallow water with few runs and no fish, so I jumped out and headed back- it was closing on 7:30pm with the sky turning purple and I know from experience they lock that dang gate at 8 bells on the nose whether you need out or not, and I didn't feel like sleepin streamside so I headed home... Not exactly the experience I had hoped for, but as always, an adventure. I've already found the time slot to go back next week and try those upper reaches. I let you know how it goes!

I'd walk (or drive) 500 miles..

Ahh, the old Hobble Creek. Like old friends getting back together, it was nice to be on Hobble again. Slightly overcast, 50 deg. I started below the golf course, just wanted to get on the water quick.

Here's the skinny. fished about an hour, caught 8 or so.. had a great time. Then i quickly headed down south.. way down south, St. George way. Caught rumor of a couple nice streams, had to check them out. OK, i had paintings to drop off in S.G., but what the hey..

Here's some video from Hobble.


There are some nice browns in Hobble. Most of what i caught was in the 10-12" range, but there quite a few nicer fish. I'm amazed at how much this stream looks like LHF. Now to head SOUTH, way South, to Dixie.

I found the pull out to the next stream I wanted to fish, North of S.G., it was around 7pm, and the dirt road was closed to vehicles. But what beautiful scenery.. watch the video. I may be partial to fishing in the desert amid redrocks and junipers.. so different than alpine scenery.The walk in looked to be 2-4 miles.. so i decided to save this stream for another day. It looked good, well ok, i couldn't actually see it, but it was remote, off the beaten path... just ready for exploration. I drove into S.G. got business taken care of and then drove out to another stream that I could actually drive to. Little stream, would be the optimal word here. but still... where's there's running water, I shall cast a line. And did, and caught a small cutt. The sun set, the light faded but I fished till I could no longer see, caught several small cutts, amid the redrock backdrop, even caught a 8" cutt, in the last hole.

This stream (in the video) will haunt my dreams until I can return. I'm thinking May. Anyone up for that?

Not sure when run off is, or if they have run off in the desert, but I feel the need to r-u-n-n-o-f-t....

It's Raining Cats and Brookies

I left the office about 12:30 on Friday afternoon under dark skies and a light drizzle, and headed for Jacobs Fork.

One of the great things about trout fishing in the Appalachians is you never know what you're going to come across. Although I didn't get to talk with the fine folks at this residence, I'm sure they would have had a story similiar to the one Pablo and I heard several years back when we stopped to ask direction of a kindly old gent and an hour later heard about his grand son who was born with his heart on the outside.

















I Was in the creek by 2:00 and the sun came out it was warm so I ditched the rain jacket right after I shot the intro (which I didn't include here)- but as you'll see later, that wasn't a good idea. I slogged around for about an hour working my way upstream, only seeing a few small fish when I finally spotted a couple of nice size fish at the top of long slow pool. Caught a couple of little Brookies before getting into the bigger fish. Eventually made my way into the gourge section of the creek where there are deep plunge pools and watched the skies open up for the remainer of my day.

I ran into only two other fishermen, which is unusual on this stream at this time of year- obviously the weather had deterred all but the truly dedicated piscator. They said they had spotted a giant trout in a large slow pool about a few bends above my position, but alas, they could not garner his attention. As it turned out the rain was an omen, right after it started coming down, I was into fish in a big way, catching them on a variety of streamers, some dead drifted and some stripped or wiggled at the precisesly the right moment!

I believe I came to the big pool my brethern had told me about. When the rain would let up a little, I could see into the pool and spotted several nice fish, but one especially note worthy lunker. I landed a couple of 15" and then as my green woolly bugger drifted into the heart of the pool and I gently lifted it up in a slight jigging motion, a big head flashed up from below, inhaled the fly and turned back to the depths. I was thankful I had broken off the 6X tippet on a previous fish and had tied on a length of the 6lb test I had bought at KMart on my first outing. Everything held and I eventually coaxed him up into some shallow water so I could duly document the highlight of my day.




Just a great day- all my troubles washed away and only the companionship of some foul weather finned friends.

STYMIED (almost!)

Finally got out today. Felt I was jumping the gun by about a month... cold, 43 degrees.. snow still on the ground. I headed out to LHF, once I turned off the highway, onto the road, I was turned back. By 2 feet of snow covering the road. Global warming my !#$%**#!**.
Almost thought of tucking tail and running for home. I had come this far though, so I figured I'd give the main branch of the river a try. Brrr......

The Dunstan Retriever working streamside

THE GOV'NA- Starting Great in 08

THIS AINT NO FISH STORY

There I was, there I was, in the CONGO! or on the stream side! Yep, I checked the forecast on Monday, determined to get my fish on this week and Thursday was THE day! 70 and sunny in the NC mtns. Although things at work went to Hades in a handbasket (more on that later), I kept my priorities straight and at noon, I hit the door running. For the first time ever I decided to take a k-9 companion, so I loaded up my Dunstan Retriever (more on her later) and my fly rod and MY NEW VEST THING!!! and headed for North Harpers Creek- a favorite local haunt. Two hours to streamside, including a mile walk in those lovable but not so breathable waders. Of course that's nothing for a mule in waders! If only the fish were as excited as I was. Water was a little low from the drought, but clear as grade A moonshine. I tied on a big orange attractor, no telling what you got to do early season. One funny thing, I needed a leader so I stopped at the Kmart in Morganton but much to my surprise, they didn't have any leaders, so I bought s little spool of 6 lb test and made my own 7 ft none tapered leader and it worked great- why do we buy tapered leaders? Any who, it was business as usual, lots of casts, no sign of fish. Then an amazing thing happened. My Dunstan pup, Lil Ann, was staying pretty close and not getting in the water unless she had to. As I was moving up the creek, I looked back and there she was on a rock in the middle of the stream frozen like a statue. I yelled back at her to come on, but she didn't budge. I yelled again and she just held her spot. Finally in frustration I headed back toward her and as I got closer, I realized that she was locked down on a hard point. Now I was really curious so I stalked up the last few feet and there in the current right in front of her was a 12" brown trout! I could not believe my eyes! She was pointing a trout! Unbelievable. For those of you who are not familiar with the Dunstan Retriever, they hail from the South Island of New Zealand, a trout haven of course- but I had no idea that her pointing instincts would translate to fish! What a dog. However, knowing my skeptical and ignorant compadres, I quickly dropped my rod and gave her a gentle "whoa" command, encouraging her to hold the point. I scrambled into by vest and pulled out my camera and captured what has to be the most amazing thing I have ever witnessed.

After I snapped the picture I stealthily eased into position to cast to brown. Unfortunately my rustiness and being distracted by the dog (I've never cast to fish that was being pointed) caused me to slap my cast down on his head and he bolted. Lil Ann was in hot pursuit, but alas, even a spirited Dunstan is no match for brown trout in a swift mountain stream. As the brownie darted down stream, Lil Ann turned and gave me a look of, "have you never caught a fish before?". So, I guess I'll have to wait until next time to see if the Dunstan can retrieve a fish as well as it points it!

Didn't know Disney had inflitrated the flyfishing market did ya?