Took a day away from the packing and storing and planning yesterday. Kind of a nostalgic and melancholy drive across the Arco Desert, north along the west side of the Lost River Mountains, and west into the east side of the Pioneer Mountains.
Hard to be looking, from afar, at the drainages that hold Birch Creek, The Little Lost River, and The Big Lost knowing that it will be some time before I get back to them - that they will not be my regular haunts over the course of the year for winter and spring day trips to Birch Creek and the Big Lost and summer camping trips to The Little Lost and the Forks of the Big Lost.
Started on a stretch of the North Fork of the Big Lost that I have fished before. Tied on a scaled down size 12 yellow FEB Hopper and started covering water. Ended up working my way quite a bit further upstream than I have gone previously.
First fish in hand was a cutthroat. Ended up with seven or eight more, a couple about this size, but most somewhat smaller.
The creek is running low, as expected this late in the summer, but cold and clear. Just right for wet wading. The fishing was on the slow side, but steady. Just a matter of finding the holes and slots.
This rainbow came out of the slot on the far side of the creek in the above picture. He’s a tad bigger than the other four bows on the day.
After a couple hours on the first stretch, I drove to another access a couple miles downstream. A deep riffle there usually holds a number of fish. The forecast late afternoon storm developed into some beautiful cloud formations and a bit of a breeze on and off.
This guy is a cuttbow, best I could tell. Not a 50-50 hybrid - but a touch of rainbow coloring and a very light cutthroat suggests some of each, with the rainbow back a generation or two. This guy turned out of his lie and chased the fly a couple feet downstream before he caught and ate it.
That makes three. The brookie that completed the grandslam didn’t want to sign a photo release and took off before I could snap his pic. But he was a pretty little fish, if a bit shy.
After fishing that second stretch of the North Fork, I headed over to the East Fork and spent an hour or so on a short section there. It was even slower than the North Fork, producing only a cutt and a bow and a couple refusals. The bow ran down the fly and took it while I was stripping it in ( slowly ) off some very soft water. Can’t recall having a trout chase a hopper like that before.
The drive home ended on a high note - a single waffle cone with maple walnut from Reed’s Dairy. Not my typical dinner, but what the heck … it is the best ice cream in Idaho Falls.
John
