Readers Cast

ROCK CREEK ADVENTURE - CONTINUED

Scott Kershaw - July 12, 2010

Sys Admin's Note
Continued from Part 1 <ROCK CREEK ADVENTURE>

Wednesday morning we took the other duo upstream since they struck out Tuesday. My honest opinion was that they weren’t fishing deep enough in the right water. Perhaps I was getting lucky. We headed back upstream of Stoney Creek Campground looking for more cutties and browns. I was able to work further up the river this time and found an amazing deep run. I hooked a dozen trout out of it though I only landed six. Whitefish were not kept on a tally. Just as I released a beautiful cutthroat, the largest Bald Eagle I have ever seen flew over my head and perched in a tree just above this run. As I checked the knots in my rig and retied my flies, the eagle closely watched me the entire time. As I turned my back to break into the bag of beef jerky in my pack, the eagle quickly and discretely disappeared just as swiftly and gracefully as he had appeared. Maybe he was trying to squeeze me out of his fishing hole. Regrettably, I left the camera in the truck all morning and missed out on some stellar fish, wonderful scenery and a majestic National bird.

After a small break to pan for some gold – a hobby that one of the crew had recently obtained – we moved back down to the Windlass Concrete Bridge. More fish came to hand and the caddis was becoming more active. Several fish were rising in the slow water of a confluence. Just for kicks and giggles, I took apart my Indy rig, lined up a size 16 Elk Hair Caddis with a size 16 caddis emerger below it. After I tried (and failed) to time the rises, I just kept my fly in the run with minimal false casts. A hungry brown took the dry, moved down stream, and wiggled into the net. Not a large fish, but fun to fool on the surface. The rises stopped and the caddis disappeared as the sun faded. I rigged up an Indy rig of caddis flies and purged the run that the riser came out of. I managed a decent brown and half a dozen whitefish in 30 minutes before walking out fearing I would miss the dinner bell.

May 066

Thursday, our last day on the stream, we awoke to cloudy skies and steady rain. The weather had a few of the guys down but I was ready to pin some more fish before the dreaded return to Nebraska, “the good life.”

A few of the guys were flustered at the lack of catching so we moved downstream and stopped in Rock Creek Trout Bums and chatted with Deb, just barely missing Joe. I grabbed a hot chocolate, some size 14 pink San Juan Worms and a couple double-bead Prince Nymphs and we were back on the road to the Creek. Our first stop was the steady water of the Norton Campground area. After a face plant in the creek from not looking at the cut off stump on the bank, I recovered my wetness and strung up a rubber-legged nymph with a pink SJW below it. Second cast in the run a rainbow was running and jumping from the shock of a stonefly nymph that bit back. As I swung the net from around my back, I dropped my rod tip and the flies buried themselves in my waders. This chunky ‘bow evaded his photo shoot.  After dredging that run with a couple dozen more casts I moved up a few yards and brought a couple browns to hand.

Wading the Creek had been extremely challenging all week long. Often the thought of purchasing a staff at the shop that Monday crossed my mind as I slowly and cautiously navigated the water. Now here I selected a decent looking crossing point and took my time getting my footing to the other side. I found another “fishy” spot in the Creek and dredged the nymphs. Getting a rainbow and a brown then a wicked wind knot from my own low back cast I sat down and found a new leader as the operator error was too difficult to recover streamside.

May 077

Coming to a stretch that looked too difficult to navigate on foot, we headed back to the vehicle and made our way up to The Dalles Footbridge and Welcome Creek. The creek was littered with a lot more boulders here allowing us to focus our time on some different stream structure than earlier in the day. Up to this point we had not seen any adult salmon flies emerging or in flight. A moth-like flutter came past my ear splatting into real slow water where Welcome Creek joins Rock Creek. I watched the Pteronarcys struggle in the water. Secretly I wished that I would see a bruiser inhale her with reckless abandon. It was not to be after 10 minutes of watching and waiting. I slowly walked up, scooped her up and snapped some pictures of the first adult salmon fly of the season for me. She walked onto my rod only to pose for a few more photographs then flew off into the current. I can’t help but wonder if she became fish food or bird food.

May 086

May 081

I continued to nymph the Creek up to the bridge. After hooking a few fish and having them come unpinned I reeled in my rig and changed flies for sharper hooks. Moving through water of different depth and speed, I changed my rig accordingly and landed some fish on the rubber-legged bug. The thunder began to roll in the background and small drops of liquid sunshine fell from above. After a chunky rainbow came to hand, I reeled up and bounced my way back across the bridge and belted myself in the truck to head to a new spot with less people.

May 084

We headed down to Valley of the Moon and traipsed our way to the Creek. This area had a lot of log jams and looked “fishy.” I didn’t hook a single fish. My thought was that the water may have been too quick for the fishes liking. I worked my way up to the slower, wider, deeper water and fished by the numbers all the way across the Creek. I hooked a jumping brown but I was too far out in the current to make any quick moves downstream to fight him successfully. He broke off with a new lip piercing and my rubber-legged fly. It was too quick and heavy for my 3X tippet.

I was working my way up to a stellar run when the thunder became more frequent and louder. I was in the zone. Just as my first cast landed in this heavenly water a bright flash erupted and an ear ringing boom cracked. I instantly became a human lightening rod and I worked my way slowly through the fast current to the bank. I slung my rain coat on as I quickly became wet. My rod broke down and I weaved my way through the trees back to the vehicle in a drenching downpour. It was 5:30 in the evening now and we had plans to meet at the Ekstrom Stage Station for dinner at 7. A quick trip into Missoula for some last minute tying material not available in Nebraska and back and I was enjoying a juicy Montana rib eye steak.

The trip was a huge success. All of the fish that came to hand were well earned. Maybe I was just luckier than the other guys. Who knows? I am still coming off of my fishing hangover. The fishing in Nebraska, for me, just hasn’t matched the beauty and luster of the Rockies. Of all my adventures into the mountains to chase trout, this trip has solidified my need to live in the mountains where the water is cool, clear and crisp (most of the year). Finally, many thanks to John Scott for helping make a stellar Montana Moment!

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