Wily Westslopes
The sun was just coming up over the mountains as I awoke to a scenic
morning. The local wildlife population was already up long before
me, yet it was only 6:30 am. My fishing partner (my brother) Andy
awoke to the "natural alarm" (squirrels), and began to get ready for
another day of fly fishing. After a quick bite to eat, we grabbed
our fly gear and headed on our way down to the little creek. Taking
in the mountain morning air was refreshing, and the sound of moving
water signaled that we were nearing the creek.
Emerging from the forested trail, we got our first glimpse of the
little gem we would be fishing that day. Visions of beautiful
westslope cutthroat trout on the end of my line danced around in my
head as I took my first steps into the water. The water was freezing
cold, though that was to be expected seeing as how it was the
beginning of July; but I knew that if the weather was anything like
it was in previous days, we would be in for a real treat. Up the
stream we headed, as we found the first beautiful piece of water
below a little falls, Andy decided to get his line wet. I sat back
and watched as he worked the water with an attractor dry fly. After
that proved unsuccessful, he switched to a smaller dry fly, then to
a wooly bugger. After working that prime stretch for a while, we
decided it would be best to keep moving
on.
The next few promising stretches of water proved to be the same as
the first one. No fish were spotted in the clear water, and
certainly none were hooked. Amazed that nothing had even given our
flies a sniff thus far, we had to keep moving up. This creek had to
have fish in it!
After stopping for a late lunch around 2:00, we rounded the next
bend in the creek. We were taking in the scenery around us, when we
almost walked through one of the best looking stretches on the
entire creek. One edge of the creek had a nice undercut bank, and an
excellent run that extended all along it. Sure enough, within
seconds, the splashy rise of a westslope
cutthroat
broke the silence, and the hunt was on. Andy decided to crouch down
to the side and watch the fish working the water, while I cast to
it. Beginning with flies that had been dynamite on the other local
cutthroat streams, I tried for over an hour with over 12 different
patterns and sizes of flies, and different presentations. This
cutthroat would not even give these flies a look as he passed up
mine, and a bunch of the naturals that were coming down. Frustrated,
I knew I had to catch this fish, but how? By that time, we decided
to keep moving up the creek to explore a little more water. It was
unbelievable water! Not far from the last spot, we watched as a nice
cutthroat sipped flies off the surface at the head of a small pool,
and a smaller fish that was most likely a brook trout was taking
small mayflies at the tail out.
Andy had his chance in this spot, and ended up hooking into the
small brookie in the tail out, before losing it. We explored a
little more water, and time ticked away. It was 7:00, and we decided
to head downstream, and back to camp for some supper.
The
next three days of our trip were spent on other waters around this
creek, and each evening we would come back to the small creek to try
and find more fish. Every night that we came back, the only fish
that could be seen, or that would even look at our flies, were in
the same spots.
The third night in, we had tied up some small tan mayflies to
imitate a
heavy hatch that was occurring every night around the same time. As
I approached one of the familiar spots, I watched for a few minutes,
and finally saw the big guy give himself away. It took five casts
with that #18 tan mayfly before the fish inhaled it, and the battle
was on. Andy and I were both excited to finally hook into one of
these gems. Patience and
persistence
paid off, and after a battle of a few minutes, the cutthroat was
landed. To our amazement, the cutthroat was around 15-16", in a
creek not wider than 6 feet in most places. This was a special fish,
and well worth the effort.
After a couple more nights, the first fish we saw near the bank on
the first day was spotted again. This was five nights later, and I
had been casting my entire fly box to this fish for days. Tippet was
changed, leaders lengthened, and nymphs and dry flies were both
experimented with to their death. This fish had to give in! It took
three fly patterns, but that same hatch that had been present
started up again, and this time the fish was actually looking at my
fly. A #18 blue wing olive was tied on, and on the first cast, magic
happened.
"FINALLY!!!" I yelled out. Even Andy let out a holler. We were
definitely ecstatic after the amount of time it took to finally fool
this gorgeous cutthroat. It zipped downstream, and almost took me
into a couple roots and logs underwater, but the battle was mine.
The fish took a couple more risky moves, but I managed to keep it
from any hazards. This cutt gave and epic battle, but it was finally
coming to my
hand.
As it neared I couldn't help but take in the thickness and beauty of
this cutthroat. I also discovered that the one side of the fish had
a big mark on it, most likely from a bird. This might have explained
why this fish was so reluctant to take my fly, but it was finally
fooled once again.
After a few pictures, the trout was released to go back to its lair.
We fished a little while longer, but then we headed on the long walk
back. This time we didn't have the feeling of defeat, and it felt
good to finally land that wily bugger. There was one day left to
fish this area, and we had to make a choice on what stream to fish
come morning....
We woke up the next morning to a thunderstorm, and pouring rain. It
seemed that the storm would not let up, but by noon, all that
remained was heavy cloud cover. Our decision was made, and we headed
to the small creek once again. This day was much different than most
of the previous days we had fished the creek. An area with a log
jamb showed us three cutthroats in the (approx.) 18-20" range, and
we cast to them for a while until Andy actually hooked one. He lost
it, but the next spot was the ol' waterfall run. Once again, Andy
hooked a big cutthroat and lost it. This was already a good day. The
fish were pretty much giving themselves away without having to go
through the entire fly box.
Heading upstream, we found ourselves in familiar territory once
again. I had a #12 orange stimulator on this time, and there were a
few small hoppers landing on the water by the undercut bank. I knew
that I had to present the fly like I had been for the last few
nights in order to catch this fish again. If hooked, you only get
one shot. I cast the fly as tight to the bank as I could, and to my
surprise the fish took on the first drift! The fish seemed angrier
than ever, and instead of the usual "cuttroat roll" downstream, it
took a couple headshakes, and tore upstream! SNAP! The tippet broke,
and the battle was done. Round two went to old cutty.
A
short time later, and a little walk upstream, I hooked and landed
the same fish I had landed on the third night. Andy managed to
finally
land
a 15" cutthroat as well. These were all fish we had previously seen
on other nights. The rest of the creek seemed to be empty, but those
few stretches had enough activity to make us come back night after
night.
On
the walk back I couldn't help but wonder if this day was a reward
for the countless hours spent trying to lure these few fish from
their respective "homes". I wondered how it was possible that, while
the other streams in the area were fabulous for action, this one was
a stubborn little creek even though it didn't receive anywhere near
the same pressure as the others. Reality set in, and I realized that
I had been fooled by the fish that just one night before, I had
fooled myself. Could it be that we were both learning each others'
ways, or was I over thinking the entire scenario. I still think
about that trip to this day. It taught me a lot more about fishing
tough streams, and I can only wonder if someone else had the
experience of trying to fool that old girl last summer, I know I
couldn't get her again. I'll take it though. After all, we are still
tied 1-1, and it's a best of three...
