The Road Warrior Weekend

Weekends like these seem to be occurring much more frequent with increasing demands from work, family, & Trout Unlimited - and I occasionally get to fish.

This particular weekend started at 4:30 AM on a Friday, getting prepared for the kids' field trip to the Columbus Zoo & Aquarium (a 2.5-hour ride to and around Columbus). We had never been to the zoo this early in the season and the critters were out and about.

Following several hours of walking, it was another 2.5-hour car ride home. We arrived back in Parkersburg at 5:00 PM, a quick dinner and I was back on the road with a destination of Kumbrabow State Forest. After another 2.75-hours on the road, I was setting up my tent in the dark.

I was scheduled to meet a coworker back down off the mountain at 7:00 AM the next morning. I woke before daylight, packed up, had a nice cup of instant coffee and then hit the road. Before I left the top of the mountain I stopped to snap a couple of photos of the amazing sunrise over Cheat Mountain.

Arriving at our meeting point, I grabbed another cup of coffee while thinking to myself "I really don't know where the Trout Unlimited state council meeting is". So while I waited on my coworker I grabbed the gazetteer and the GPS and tried to figure out where the Handley DNR cabin is actually located. I found the Handley public hunting area in the gazetteer - the cabin had to be in there somewhere.

My friend arrived right on time. The plan was to do a couple of hours of brookie fishing before I had to leave for state council. I took him to the stream I learned how to fly fish for brookies, but I had not fished it in three years. It fished just as I had remembered it, lots of fish but no size.

Regardless, the scenery was beautiful as usual:

The brookies are always beautiful. This little guy cam off before I could get him to hand and he just sat there like he was meant to be amphibious.

I picked up numerous brookies on a small, size 18 BH pheasant tail. My numbers caught the attention of my beginner friend so he ask me to show him how to fish a dropper. A couple of quick tips and he was also picking up brookies on a dropper.

I fished for about two hours and it was time to head toward state council. I gave myself plenty of time to get to my next destination, as I didn't really know where I was going. Another 1.5 hours, and a little bit of "site seeing" and I found the DNR cabin.

When I built the agenda for state council, I built it for four hours - it lasted a little over ninety minutes! With spare time and a location in the center of trout country, I took advantage of both and headed for another brook trout stream I had yet to explore.

I have a bad habit of checking out the stream as I drive and it bit me this day. I ditched the vehicle while checking out the headwater stream below the road. Thank goodness for four-wheel drive, as I eventually bored my vehicle out of the ditch.

I found my stream and started gearing up but before I could finish the sky opened up. The rain was coming down in buckets so I sat under the hatch and had lunch. I tried to wait out the rain but I had to meet my coworker back at Kumbrabow (another 1.5 hours away). I chased the storms back to the hard top of the Scenic Highway. This is the watershed I had just visited, following the rains.

The Scenic Highway has to be THE most beautiful drive in all of West Virginia! As I neared the end of the Highway, I headed back into the storms.

I drove through several patches of rain on the way back to the campground and when I arrived at my destination it had just finished a brief shower. While it was clear and still daylight, I hit the stream for a few minutes. My friend had already fished this section but it was close and I wanted to fish before the rains hit again. He informed me that while I was at state council he picked up fifteen brookies while fishing the dropper - he learns quick.

It was tough fishing but I did manage to pick up a couple more - on top.

With a couple of days of driving behind me I was beat so it was an early night. When I crawled into my tent it was still daylight. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow but my first sleep wouldn't last long. The skies opened up again and it rained hard most of the night.

I awoke before daylight again and after packing up again and another cup of instant coffee, I went to check out the stream. I was pleasantly surprised to see the water was not up or off color, despite the rains during the night.

I decided to take my coworker to another brookie stream that I had not fished in three or four years. It did not disappoint as we picked up fish in nearly every little pocket.

I fished for another couple of hours before I had to hit the road again. This time my destination, the WV DNR Commissioner's meeting, was another 1.5 hours away. I was to represent WV TU State Council at the meeting. This meeting was centered around approving new hunting regulations - not much on the coldwater fisheries side of things.

Following the two-hour meeting, I had another 1.5-hour drive home. My Road Warrior weekend was still not complete as I had another trip to Columbus (2 hours) scheduled on Monday. I am not sure how many miles I drove, but I spent a lot of hours behind the wheel and it was worth every minute of it!

Chris

2007 Northern Rockies Roadtrip - Native Salmonid Marathon

My old blog site is down and my procrastination has burnt me again. Attempting to remember the exact details of a road trip two years after the fact may be difficult but we'll see how my memory is after 40.

This would be my first and only road trip to the Rockies. My fishing partners for this adventure had done his research and it would pay off.

Nearly thirty hours after leaving Parkersburg, WV we found ourselves at Twin Lakes above Wisdom, MT in search of grayling in the native range. There would be no grayling in these waters but there were Montana fence staples.

Our first task before we even wet a line on our trip was to change a tire, twenty miles from the closest paved road. The fence staple would be handed to me the following day in Salmon, ID.

We were able to pick up a few miscellaneous cutthroat and brook trout in the stream exiting Twin Lakes.

Our next day would find us fishing a stream in Idaho in search of bull trout, westslope cutthroat, and Columbia River basin redbands. We had no idea we would find all three in the same stream and in such numbers.

I caught this guy at the first stream crossing, things were looking promising.

With my first ever bull trout under my belt, I felt much relieved. I had no idea what would lie ahead for the day. Within an hour I had all three species under my belt, as we picked up fish in nearly every pocket!

Westslope cutthroat

Columbia River Basin Redband

After each of us had picked up all three species, we decided to head up one of the feeder tribs. This stream would not disappoint either as I picked up a few more of these.

We returned to the main stream and continued to pick up a mixed bag of the three.

One thing I kept noticing on some of these fish were scars. I didn't think anything about it; I figured they were from predatory birds, until I caught this guy. I could actually make out the jaw lines from whatever had gotten a hold on him.

At this point we decided to move upstream, above where the road leaves the stream for good. This section of stream would prove to be no different, as we continued to fish side-by-side and we continued to pick up fish in every pocket.

We finally ran into a decent pool, with root ball on one side and a log jam at the tail. I tied on a small olive woolybugger and drifted it downstream, hoping to pull something large from the log jam. Unfortunately, all I could manage was another small bull trout.

As I stripped in the 6" fish, a wake came out of the root ball across from me. It was like something out of Jaws, with back half out of the water. It was a BIG bull trout and he was after the little bull on the end of my line. He hit it broadside and would not let loose. I yelled for my partner, who had already moved upstream to the next pool.

I was fishing a 6' 6" 2wt rod and all I could do was hold him in the pool in front of me. My partner took a swipe at him with the net and missed! My heart sunk as the big bull let go. As I stripped the half-dead, little bull trout back to me; the big bull hit him again! This time he hit him headfirst and swallowed him to the tail.

All I had to do now was keep from breaking my rod or break the 5X tippet. This time my partner took another swipe at him with the net and connected.


This is and continues to be my only +20" trout and I didn't have a hook in him. Not bad for a 2wt rod and 5X tippet!

We fished for a short while longer before calling it a day. We fished together the entire time on this stream and my guess would be about fifty fish each and three different native species!

The next day would find us searching a couple of different streams, one in search of more redbands and another in search of big bull trout - at the recommendation of an old timer in the little town we were spent the night (population 90).

The first stream in Box canyon was small and overgrown. It was difficult to fish but I did manage one small redband.

We missed the turn to our second stream; actually the turn would have been a path through the middle of a large field. We ended up on the wrong branch of the stream, fishing the exit of a small lake. We caught numerous small cutthroat but no bull trout below the lake.

We fished around the edge of the lake, headed for the feeder stream. We each caught small westslopes in the lake.

Once we got to the feeder stream, we found two things. The first was the amazingly cold water, we had been wet wading but this water was numbing. It was late July, but this sure felt like runoff water.

The second thing we found were more cutthroat.

We did spook one small bull trout, but we brought none to hand.

The next day would find us heading back across Montana, with a final destination of Cody and the start of our quest for the Wyoming Cuttslam.

We chose this pass, the same as Lewis & Clark, to cross back into Montana.

As we ventured back across Montana, we couldn't help but notice the lack of visibility from the massive forest fires that were raging across SW Montana. We crossed into Wyoming at Beartooth Pass and could not believe the lack of visibility. This was the view in 2002, during my first trip across Beartooth Pass.

This was the view during our voyage across Beartooth.

Visibility was well enough that we would see one of the Beartooth locals.

We made our destination of Cody, set up camp and then picked up our other partner for the Cuttslam at the airport.

The next day, after purchasing our license, we would search for the first leg of the slam - the Yellowstone cutthroat. Sixty miles on hardtop and another thirty on gravel put us on the stream in cutthroat territory and it also put us in grizzly territory - which I have an extreme fear of.

On the way from the vehicle to the water, we ran into a forest service employee who informed us there had not been a grizzly sighting in this particular area in several years. That information put me only slightly at ease - I was charged by a grizzly sow in the Lamar Valley of Yellowstone in 2002. She came within 15 yards before she turned to catch her three cubs, but that's another story.

Once we hit the water, we each had our Yellowstone cutts within thirty minutes.

It's a good thing we caught our fish early because as the day went on and the sun went high in the sky, the fishing came to a screeching halt. I picked up one other cutthroat before we called it a day, not without each of us completing leg one of the slam.

The next day would not be a fishing day; it would be a tour of Yellowstone. I had toured Yellowstone before, but one of my fishing partners had not. It would be a long day, but well worth it as Yellowstone never ceases to amaze me.

A mudslide would prevent us from exiting via the east entrance, so it would be backtrack through the Lamar Valley, Cooke City, and Chief Joseph Highway - all told, it was a sixteen hour day.

The next day would put us back in the park, this time in search of grayling. We would not be heading to the most common destination for grayling, the Firehole drainage. We were headed for a small lake in the Yellowstone drainage.

About a 1.5 mile hike put us on this small, spring fed lake.

You could follow the rises as they cruised around the lake. Wait for the risers to come to you and then cast ahead of where they would be. My partner would be the first to land a grayling while my first fish of the day would be some type of cutthroat.

We dodged a lightning storm and fought off the vicious black flies, while catching the very occasional fish. I was beginning to get worried that I would not land my first grayling on this trip, but that would soon change. I was fishing a small, black woolybugger with a nymph trailer when I cast ahead of a rising pod of fish. I soon hooked something, though what it was I was not sure. Whatever it was, it fought well! When I finally got it to net, I was surprised that not only had I caught my first grayling, I had done it in the form of a double.

With all three of us picking up our grayling, we would call it a day - the black flies were simply too bad.

The next day would have us breaking camp in Cody and heading to Hoback, where we would try to complete the final three legs of the slam.

We set up camp on the banks of the Snake River and tried to quickly pick up the second leg in the main waters of the Snake. None of us had experience fishing water like that, it was tough to read and so we hit the tiny feeder creek that also ran through the campground. Luckily, this stream would hold small specimens of the Snake River cutthroat.

We each now had the second leg of the slam under our belts and we didn't even have to leave camp!

The next day would put us in search of the Colorado River strain. Two hours later and several more miles of gravel roads put us on the stream, unfortunately what we found was off-color water. We tried to fish the stained waters with no luck, so we pulled out the gazetteer and picked another stream in the Colorado River drainage.

The next stream was heavily silted but we fished it briefly and I was able to pick up what appeared to be a Snake River strain. We then traveled further south to the next stream in the drainage. What we found in this stream was not cutthroat but a very good population of brook trout.

I love brook trout but that was not what we were in search of, but I was able to add another state to my brook trout list (number 11).

While we were busy catching these little brook trout, the senior member of our group caught this nice Snake River cutthroat on his special "gray nymph".

We returned to camp unsuccessful on our third leg, but we were able to catch a mess of brook trout for dinner. That act would be questioned here in their native range, but they're invasives in Wyoming - and those invasives tasted great over an open fire!

The next day would put us directly south of Hoback in search of the Bonneville cutthroat. We found this small stream running parallel to the highway.

As with the other successful legs to date, we each caught small cutthroat in short order.

In search of larger Bonnevilles, we took another long drive across endless gravel to a slightly larger stream. I did catch a couple of even smaller Bonnevilles and we also landed some nice whitefish, but the larger Bonnevilles avoided us. It did not matter though as we each had leg three of the slam complete.

Before returning to camp, we stopped at a Hoback tributary and picked up a few more Snake River cutts.

The final day in Hoback put us back on the same stream we had tried two days prior, hoping the water had cleared and the Colorado River cutthroat would cooperate. When we arrived at the stream, the water had indeed cleared but we still had to locate the cutthroat.

Again, our senior partner fished the gray nymph and again caught the big fish. It was a very nice Colorado River cutthroat and his slam was complete.

With his slam complete, he would be my net man to insure a photo if I were to catch the final species. I was fishing a dry dropper tandem rig again and I was doing a fine job picking up whitefish!

Again, I was getting nervous as I could see my other partner at the vehicle drinking a celebratory beverage, which meant he had completed his slam. Growing frustrated, I took the dropper off which allowed me to pitch the small stimulator a little closer to cover. That would be the ticket as I soon started picking up small Colorado River cutthroat.

We celebrated that evening with a two-pound burger at a small roadside cafe just outside Hoback. That night we would pack up camp at 3:00 AM with a destination of Estes Park and one more cutthroat species.

Eight hours later we were standing in Estes Angler waiting on my younger brother who lives just outside of Denver. I had previously caught our targeted species that day, but my younger brother and my partner on the Cuttslam had not.

A short hike in put us on the stream and again we all had this species (probably the most beautiful cutthroat) under our belts in short order.

Following the hike back out, there was only thing remaining on this marathon road trip...the drive home. My one and only road trip to the Rockies was successful all around: 6000 miles driven - crossing the Continental Divide in nine different locations, 6 cutthroat species (in their native range), bull trout (native range), redband (native range), and grayling.

This is the link to the video I created:

Northern Rockies Roadtrip

Even after 40, my memory is still pretty good!

Chris

The Past, Present, and Future

One of the greatest programs TU has going is the Trout In the Classroom program.

http://www.troutintheclassroom.org/

The Kanawha Valley chapter had eight programs running in elementary schools during the 2008-2009 school year. We were asked to pick up and haul fish for two of the schools in our area. Our chapter had recently purchased two new hauling tanks and they needed to broken in, so we jumped at the chance.

These two schools had raised these trout from eggs over the last 7-8 months, quite a task in itself.


I was very nervous going into this, I was concerned something would go wrong during the transfer and we would be left to explain to the students what happened to their fish. I knew these students had taken ownership and responsibility of these little guys but I had no idea of the magnitude. These were not just fish in the tank, they were classmates and there were some strong emotions.





We were to transfer the water from the fish tanks to our hauling tanks, then transfer the fish. Transferring the water was the easy task, catching those trout without a fly rod was another story!


The first load of fish successfully transferred to the hauling tank, the bottles of ice were applied and the water was holding at 52 degrees. Now it was off to classroom number two to repeat the same.

Again, the transfer of water was easy but chasing down those little trout was quite a task. We were able to successfully transfer all trout without a casualty and tank number two was holding at 48 degrees. The tanks were then secured for the hour-long ride to their new home.


Once at the stream, we checked the tanks for temperatures and fish condition. The fish were doing just fine and our insulated hauling tanks were still holding at 52 and 48 degrees, respectively.

We had approximately 45 trout to be released by over 100 proud students. The students were on their best behavior and each took their turn releasing one or two fish to every three or four students. The entire process went off without a hitch!

I will reiterate, this program is the best thing TU has going and I look forward to getting more programs started in the area next year. Ensuring a healthy future of coldwater fisheries for our youth is why I do what I do in TU....

...Now, I couldn't go to the edge of "trout country" and not wet a line. Besides, I had not been fishing with this particular friend in three years!

A little background: this guy taught me how to fly fish, we have fished all up and down the east coast - from New York to North Carolina, and we took our first trip to the Rockies together back in 2002. I believe we used to fish two or three times a month together but none since March 2006. I can probably count the times I have outfished him on one hand so I was psyched to get another "lesson".

We also had my new fishing partner in tow, who had been with me in the Smokies and on my first outing of the year.

I had fished this stream seven days earlier and did quite well in the short period of time I was on the stream, but these two had never fished this particular brookie stream.

We split up right out of the truck, but I went with the old friend. This day, I didn't care if I caught a fish, I just wanted to fish with an old friend. On the short distance to the water I found a morel in the trail, so our first order of business was to scour the hillside for more. We found five or six of these wild, edible delicacies but he would inform me later they had been up too long to eat.

Back to the stream, he started with a dry and I started with the old reliable small, olive woolybugger. This pattern would be "the ticket" again on this day as I caught this guy on the first drift.

We continued to fish upstream, I would let him hit each hole with the dry then I would follow him - dredging the bottom.

I picked up this nice specimen while an overhanging branch was held out of my way with a dry fly. Thanks for the assist!

I mentioned, while I was fighting this guy, that he was fighting harder than just about any brookie I had ever caught - and I've caught a few. When I finally landed him, I saw the reason for the struggle. I had foul hooked him just above the gill plate and I was told I could not "count" this one. Regardless, it was a beautiful specimen!

I continued to pick up the occasional brookie while my old friend refused to switch from the dry. All the time we reminisced on how when we started fly fishing I refused to use anything BUT a dry...how things change.

My old friend finally picked up one on a dry. I don't think it was the first of the day, but I'm pretty sure I was up on him.

Eventually, all three of us were together on the stream and we alternated holes between the three of us and eventually all three of us were fishing sub-surface flies. Everyone continued to pick up the brookies and all things were good.

It was like seeing a transition in life happen right before my eyes. Work and personal schedules have separated my old friend and I, while the same schedules allow me to fish more with my new fishing partner. Some things never change though, as I was the butt of ridicules from both guys.

I finally caught what would be my last fish of the day.

My old partner finally caught what would be the final fish of the day for him - he had successfully knocked the rust off. The task then would be to put my new partner on his last fish of the day....one more pocket, one more pocket and he would have his last fish of the day - on a woolybugger.

What an incredible day, probably the best in recent memory - a combination of the past, present, and future!

I don't know how many I caught (I don't count) but I'm pretty sure I finished up on my old partner. I still don't think I am counting on my second hand yet!

Chris