Relaxing on the Front Porch of Roosevelt Lodge After Fishing
Every fishing trip out west is a new adventure. There are always thoughts about the uncertainty of the river conditions, hatches, campsite availability and lastly but definitely not least the bears. However, once you have crossed into Wyoming and see the signs for Yellowstone all those uncertainties seem to drift away like the current and the real importance of the trip becomes exposed…Friendship. Luckily, on this trip we were able to experience great fishing and great friends, new and old. Well to say we caught fish would be a huge understatement. We caught some great fish and experienced some world class fishing under some tough conditions which I will explain.
Horse Trail to the First Meadow
So it turns out Opie heard that the horse “trail” following the river up to the first meadow of the Slough was clear and open this year. Well, the “trail” if you can call it that, to the first meadow of the Slough, that was “supposed to be” clear this year was exactly the same as last year; non existent. PT and I were fine, a little tired but not too tired to make sure Opie knew and could hear our opinions on this great “trail”. (Doc on the other hand was too tired and to busy blowing his bear whistle to really voice his opinions).
When we finally made it to the first meadow, the boys cleaned up on the fish. I on the other hand, with borrowed flies because I didn’t have my fly box (long story) couldn’t buy a fish. Even though I had struck out that afternoon, the hike (climb) in and Doc hooking up and landing his first ever Cutthroat trout on a fly rod was a great time. Just for the record, I did manage to catch a couple trout at camp to get rid of that skunk smell.
Anorexic Trout of Trout Lake
Last year Opie and I were looking for a few places to fish that we hadn’t explored yet. We found a lake called Trout Lake that housed quite a few good sized Cutts and Bows and most importantly was only a half a mile hike from the trail head; as we could barely walk from all the billy goating and hiking that we had done in previous days. Once we arrived at our destination we started seeing these submarines the guide book described as trout. WOW, were they big, hopefully they were dumb too. Unfortunately we were wrong. These trout had Phd’s, educated by the thousands of fisherman and their tens of thousands of flies they cast to these big anorexic trout. I say anorexic because by how selective they were I would think that they should have been skinnier too as they would even reject the innocent grasshoppers we would throw in to see if was worth tying one on. After an afternoon of fishing needless to say we were skunked, but that only put those stubborn trout on our “To conquer” list.
This year however it was a different story. The first day we fished Trout Lake we made sure that PT and Doc were well aware of the kind of day to expect. There are big fish in this pond, they look but don’t eat, and you’re gonna want to throw rocks at them…etc…etc…etc. All held true until Opie tied on a black leach. We had seen black leaches swimming in the water all day but the trout didn’t even give them a glance. That was until Ope found a taker, a quick hook set and bam, broken tippet and an unhappy flyfisherman.
After pleading with PT for a black schlappen leach I proceeded to cast a few times with some heartbreaking rejections but then my fly disappeared into what appeared to be the mouth of a blue whale. Hook set and drag screaming this fish was mine. Until the 5x fluorocarbon tippet broke. Both of us so close yet still heartbroken…but at least we had a game plan for next time.
When next time arrived and we came equipped with plenty of leech patterns. Leech patterns of every size shape and color, too bad the trout weren’t cruising like they were the other day. I stood casting with no hope of hooking anything but PT’s ear who always seemed to be standing behind me. Then the familiar sound of a drag squealing caught my attention. Opie had hooked one of these S.O.B.’s. Sweet victory, to the net came a nice 19 inch Cutty. The skunk had been released. Now all that was left was for Doc, PT and myself to catch one of these canny bastards; which was easier said then done. After losing one of PT’s leeches and not knowing what to tie on, Doc passes by and tells me a story about a woman who supposedly caught 7 of these uncatchable fish, one on an egg pattern even. “Wow” I thought to myself “I suck”.
In Trout Lake there is a small stream that feeds the lake. The native fish spawn in this stream and this year with the adverse conditions the spawn was late. We were able to witness Cutthroat trout spawning which I have never seen before. It was pretty cool. Down stream of the stream in the lake there were hundreds of hungry feeding fish waiting for eggs or what ever else to float past them for an easy meal. Too bad you can’t fish there.
Well feeling beat and not doing much more than flogging the water I thought of the tale Doc told me about that super fisherwoman. What else did I have to lose? My dignity? Gone. My fly? I can tie more. What’s that you say? Doc caught one? Okay…I really don’t have anything left to lose. Opening my Steelhead box I picked out the smallest eggfly I could find, it just happened to be pale pink. “What color are Cutthroat spawn?” I wonder to myself as I tied the fly onto 3x fluoro. I spot a nice sized Cutt, splash my eggfly around to make it sink then cast out to him without much hope. The fly lands not so gracefully 10 ft from shore (I’m using a 9 ft rod) and the trout starts to swim over to laugh at my fly. Suddenly out of nowhere this freight train of a Rainbow swims over, scares away the Cutty and turns back around and inhales my eggfly! Now there are many things in life that I am ok at, but one thing that I am really ok at is hooking big fish on eggflies. With a quick motion of my rod the fish was hooked and I still sat in disbelief that it was on the end of my line. This was no fish, this was a bulldog, stripping off line, trying to head into the depths of the lake like his or her cousin the day before breaking off my 5x, but not today. Not with 3x tied onto 8lb Maxima, this fish was mine.
What seemed like a never ending game of tug o’ war, with the camera rolling and PT ready with the net I started having flash backs of previous Trout Lake experiences which I definitely did not want to experience again. Finally, trout to net and me with a big grin. PT yells out “it says 11 on one side and 12 on the other” words which still bring a smile to my face and the memory of the fantastic colors of that fish, my first and hopefully not last Trout Lake Rainbow.
Honey Badgers and The Cliffs of Doom
The night before we were to head to the confluence of the Lamar and Soda Butte all tucked in our beds with the nice warmth of Jim Beam in our belly Opie asked me if I had ever seen the Honey Badger video on YouTube. “No” was my reply. “Oh man, you gotta see it, its hilarious” says Opie. “Pull it up on your Blackberry” he follows with. So I put in the search and it comes up and we watch it. To say this is a funny video is a total understatement. It was not only HIL-ARI-OUS, it was also educational. The things it taught me about Honey Badgers and their wild traits was endless, plus who knew they liked to eat so much and had such a nonchalant attitude.
Well it’s the next morning now and we are all suited up and ready to fish. Crossing the Soda Butte to get to the Lamar that morning was a little chilly with flesh being kissed by the morning current. Especially when the kissing got close to the crown jewels. PT spotted a great run right after a chute where the fish could just sit and wait for the food to come floating by. Best of all it was fishable from a nice warm bank about 15 feet above the river. We hiked up to the bank to start fishing. Now I’m sure you’ve all seen those tv shows or movies where there’s a huge rock slide where the house slides down the mountain and into the ocean. Well let me tell you, this was the same thing but on a slightly smaller scale. Every time we came close to that edge, it sounded like a Haitian earthquake with rocks, dirt and small animals falling to their doom. Luckily for us, we managed to stay away from the edge and proceeded to hook some nice fish in that run. At times, it felt like we were pulling an Indiana Jones down the cliffs of doom, just to release a fish, but once in a while we were blessed with a LDR (long distance release).
After fishing the run until we were sure that not another single fish could be caught from it we headed up stream. PT, Opie and I on one side and Doc on the other. Doc points at the shore we are walking and yells out something so we stick our heads over the cliffs to take a peek. Low and behold it was a badger, maybe not a notorious Honey Badger, but this thing was flattened out and looked like it was hungry and really didn’t give a sh!t. We try to get snap a picture of it but as mysteriously as badgers appear this one disappeared. We then begin walking upstream again and who shows up 3 feet in front of me…Mr. Badger. Scared the crap right out of me then walked away as to say “don’t make me eat your leg off”.
Finally getting my wits, Opie and I decide to hit a nice looking run laden with boulders the size of VW’s. After a couple casts I felt that distinctive head shake on the end of my line. With a swift raise of my rod tip to set the hook the fish came up in the water column and it was a good one. Good enough for Opie to throw down his gear, grab his net and my net to chase this thing down river. Doc, staying with us to witness the action and give moral support and look out for cliffs, mud holes and badgers, was at my side.
This fish was determined not to get caught. I had him hooked on a size 18 serendipity with 5x fluoro in what seemed at the time to be class 4 rapids while I was running 15 feet above the river on the cliffs of doom. When I finally got him down to slower water and after pulling myself out of waist deep muck and sliding down the side of the boulder filled ledge Opie found him hung up on a weed and brush pile. We finally got him out and with two nets Opie landed him, a memorial 20″ bow. I’ve caught bigger fish before and did later that trip but this was the most memorable one.
You see it’s not just the fish that make the trip…it’s the friends on the trip, the ones you bring and the ones you make that make on the trip. To share the memories of the trip, to eat salami, sardine and tabasco sandwiches with while enjoying a warm PBR. Pulling into camp and seeing PT in a new hat, or doing that cannonball into that giant hole on the 2nd meadow of Slough or Doc blowing that bear whistle and looking frantically around. All the fish in the world wouldn’t be worth catching… with out good friends to fish with, to make the memories that we can all share….when we can’t do that hike or slide down those ledges any longer.
To Screemin Reels,
Luat