Nymphing Got Ya Down? Watch This! Jason Will Help You Catch More Fish! Hi Speed Only

Lately I have dreaded long road trips. As a sales rep I put thousands of miles of road behind me every year, over fifty thousand on average. Don’t get me wrong the west is beautiful but after a while it all turns into red rock, Sage Brush dirt and dust and the splendor bleeds into the monotony of “just another road trip”. This trip was going to be different though. Less caught up in sales goals, sell through reports and distribution issues I was determined from the outset to take advantage of this wonderful place I live in. I left for Boise, ID on Sunday. Only instead of straight-shotting the six hours from Salt Lake I headed directly west to Wendover, NV. It was only a couple hours out of the way and for a fifty dollar buy in I had a shot at $2000.00. For that matter what better way to enjoy the west than indulging in a little no limit Texas Hold’em. After all gambling is part of what gives the west its charm. I did not win the tournament but I did well for a first timer and managed to win some money in a low limit game afterwards. Enough money to take the edge of the sales worries for the trip and maybe spend a little extra time fishing. The next day was spent fully in Boise, ID working. I finished up in Boise early afternoon on Tuesday and raced for Sun Valley, Idaho. With a pocket full of other people’s money and my new found sense of irresponsibility the decision to blow off work and head straight to Silver Creek was easy. Silver Creek is one of those famous rivers that baffles most. It is a spring creek that wells up from nowhere. The fishable portion is around 15 miles south of the famous Sun Valley Ski Resort. Crystal clear, cold and allegedly full of giant educated Rainbows, Cutthroats and Browns. This was not my first time fishing it. I have had my confidence shatter by this place before. So much so that this trip I tried to hire a guide at Sturtavants Fly Shop just to prove to them and to me that there were no big fish left in this river. However, when I arrived at 3:00 the guides were all booked and so with a handful of local flavor flies I was off to the river on my own. Mid-afternoon spring creek fishing in the middle of summer and only one other vehicle in the parking lot. This was unusual in the heart of tourist season. A crabby middle aged man from the fine state of Washington tying flies was inside the camper. He insisted there were no fish and no hatches. I was discouraged already. The creek is small only 25-40 feet wide tops. With steep cut banks, willow bushes and the Saw Tooth Mountains as a backdrop. This place is stunning if nothing else. You can see every inch of bottom. I fished my way a couple miles or so down stream from the parking lot. I spent hours changing flies, tactics and techniques. But I did not see a fish bigger than three inches. I was beginning to question my knowledge, my ability and why I keep coming back to this fishless place. Around 7:00 I was ready to give up. The walk back was long and hot. I was relentlessly pounded by mosquitoes and on constant lookout for rattle snakes. Just then a rustle I the grass between me and the river startled me and I stopped. Looking for a snake I was unpleasantly surprised to see a skunk two feet away balled up with its rear pointed directly at me. It is funny how one is almost reduced to primal instinct in the situation. I turned and ran right threw the river right below another fisherman who was sitting on the bank. I apologized to the man an explained the situation and he understood. This fella was local. Wet wading with a handful of attractor pattern he did not claimed to be an expert. These are the fisherman I have learned to recognize so I sat for a minute and enjoyed a smoke with him. He told me his name was Gary and he was a custodian at the college an hour or so away. He told me that he had been fishing the river for better than 25 years. He also said the hatch would start in fifteen minutes or so. We traded a few fish stories and smoked a couple cigarettes and like clock work the hatch began. It started with a few large Brown Drake Spinners. The little fish began to feed. Then more spinners, then Caddis and some small May flies. Soon the river bloomed with insects, thousands and thousands of insects. And the river began to quake with activity. Only it was not with giant trout feeding on insects, which is what I expected to see. It was alive with giant fish crashing and swirling after the little fish that were distracted by the hatch. Some times they would chase them the length of the run. It was amazing to see. The larger trout were unaffected by anything around them except their quarry. Sometimes they would nearly beach themselves next to us or crash into the banks. The minnows jumped, and twisted fighting for their lives. It was time for me to give it another shot. I said good luck to Gary and moved on. I settled into a pool a few bends up stream. I had fished it on my way down and it looked great. Willows lined the turn and a small riffle poured into a deep pool. As soon as I arrived I saw giant trout swirling after the smaller fish in the riffle. Their backs sometimes right out of the water. So much for technical spring creek fishing I thought and I tied on the closest match I had. It was a pearlescent Salmon Fry size 4 complete with attached egg yoke. I had used for Steelhead at the Pulaski River in New York few months earlier. It was almost embarrassing considering the lore that surrounds the proper way to fish a place like Silver Creek. But I was on to something. I cast right into the next fish I saw chasing minnows and he smacked it and promptly broke me off. I had only one Salmon Fry so I tied on a Marabou Dace another Steelhead fly and did the same thing. Wham! only this time I landed him. He was a gorgeous 20 inch brown. This routine played out several more times until it was too dark to see and the mosquitoes became unbearable. All and all I caught many 20 inch plus fish. My confidence was back and I was ready for the next challenge, the Henry’s Fork. Wednesday afternoon I finished my work in Sun Valley and headed east for Island Park, ID. Three hours drive and I would be fishing Box Canyon. Box Canyon is a tail waters fishery below the Island Park Reservoir. Box Canyon is not the typical waters of the Henry’s Fork. This is faster, steeper, pocket water that gives way to the famous dry fly flats a few miles down river. It was my first time fishing the Henry’s Fork and I was surprised by its size. It is huge. This was nymphing water, my kind of water-deep, big, fast water. After a brief stop at Henry’s Fork Angler I was on my way. 20 minutes of dirt roads to Box Canyon they said. Straight indicator nymphing with large bead headed nymphs was the advice from the shop and rubber legs work well too. When I arrived at Box Canyon I was surprised to find only two other fisherman. I expected more on such a famous river and only 30 miles from West Yellowstone. I strung up my favorite indicator set up and made my way to the river. There were few Caddis, a few Brown Drake Spinners and zero rising fish. I was using a nasty size 10 rubber legged Copper John with a size 16 bead head Pheasant Tail. The water was slightly off color so I went with 4x and 5x tippet. I kept a close eye on the other anglers. They were far enough away that I was not intrusive but close enough that I could tell they were frustrated. I made a few cast and decided to make my way down stream. The Island Park Reservoir dam is used in part for power. Water is diverted at the dam and returned at a small generator house a half mile down river. From the pool at the parking lot I could see the return house and couple nice seams and pockets so I headed down. By this time I was alone. The sun had moved behind the trees and I began to realize how remote this place was. My only companions were a couple Bald Eagles nesting in a broken pine across the river. I fished the pockets and riffles just above the return water. Every one of my first five casts into the slower water yielded a fish. A couple nice 16 inch Rainbows and a few yearling sized wild Bows, very nice. Spectacular colors, amazing scenery and it was peaceful. I was happy with a couple 16 inchers. I had no idea what to expect from this river. It was getting late and I wanted to try one more seam where the return water merged with the main part of the river just down stream. The building that generated the power sat right on the river. Water rushed out from under it. I made my way behind the building and over the concrete that encased the pipe that fed the generators. It was scaling from the elements and large pieces broke off as I climbed over it. It made me think of the harshness of winter and the deep snow and ice that must blanket the area. But it was summer and water sprung from the cliffs next to it and the concrete shook under the force of the water. On the down stream side of the building the river met with the return water from the generators forming a perfect 100 foot long seam. I lengthened the leader under my indicator to ten feet and made a cast. Too fast, my line caught the current and ripped by me. Next cast, too slow and my weights hung up on the bottom. The third cast was perfect. My indicator stopped and I set the hook. My first instinct was to keep the fish in the slower water. So to show him who was boss I put a little heat on him. He did not move at first then I saw him turn on his side about ten feet out. This was the biggest rainbow I had ever seen other than steelhead. It looked like a steelhead at least 30 inches and very wide. He soon realized what was happening and turned for the current. I tried to stop him. He was hooked on the 4x so I thought I had a chance. He made a straight run into very fast water almost pulling the rod from my hand. Straight out, into my backing and broke me off in a matter of seconds. Easily the Rainbow of a life time and he was gone. The Juvenile Eagles laughed at me from their nest. It was getting dark so I headed for the motel. Thursday it was off to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Summer in JH means thousands of tourist and weekend worriers. I decided to scrap fishing in Jackson did my work and headed south towards home-Park City, UT. Maybe if I get home early enough I can catch a Hold’em game with my buddies I thought to myself.