Huntington Trout Hunt

Chris called me up the other day and we started discussing a possible trip down to Central Utah for some reconnaissance on a new trout stream. Of course we love wetting our lines on the many local streams we fish regularly, but what angler doesn't enjoy the opportunity to road trip in search of un-tapped stretches of fishy water? I Initially had some hesitations about racking miles up on the new Subaru Outback, but after some coercing, Chris convinced me that it was going to be worth every mile driven. So, we loaded up the car at about 9am and started heading southbound. If all estimates were accurate, we had about 100 miles of road ahead of us and we would be on the river in a couple hours. As we soon approached the 100 mile mark, we began to realize that not only did we still have a good chunk of driving left, but that we really didn't know where the hell we were going. We drove another 50 miles down the road and approached the signs we thought we were looking for. We made it to our general destination, but still didn't know where we needed or wanted to try and fish. We decided to pull into the gas station and load up on snacks and discuss the local fishing situation with whoever looked knowledgeable. We found a gentleman who was initially a bit reluctant to share with us his local fishing knowledge, but he gave in and provided us with good directions and information on what type of fishing we might expect. We checked out, loaded our snacks in the car (Chris got corn dog grease in the new vehicle) and drove another 10 minutes up the canyon to our final destination.

The weather forecast called for mostly clear skies, but as we geared up to head into the water, the clouds and cold winds started to blow and the sky's looked to threaten with rain. As soon as we reached the river bank, we knew we were going to be in for a treat and the thought of rain or bad weather left our minds. We spooked several fish upon our approach, which is usually a good sign. It meant the fish were there and that is half the battle. The other half of the battle is matching the hatch, which we are able to do pretty quickly.

 This river proved to be one of the more technical rivers I have fished in quite some time. The dead overhanging branches reminded me a lot of Lost Creek and I found myself snagged in the trees on numerous occasions. For those of you who fish a bounce rig, loosing one in the trees means standing aside for 20+ minutes re-rigging, while your buddy stands in the river and slays all the fish. I think Chris has become quite accustomed to this method if fishing and it is the primary reason why we fish together so often. I'm the guy in the trees and he's the guy in the river with a fish on and a big grin on his face. He cordially asked me to set my rod down and stop trying to fetch my rig out of the tress so that I could snap the photo below. Notice the grin?

This proved to be one of the most unique and memorable fishing experience I have had. The water was gin clear and our day consisted of primarily sight fishing our bounce/swing (Nymph) rigs. There is something so exhilarating about seeing fish upstream and long ranging a cast at them in hopes of a bite. Occasionally the fish would spook, but when they didn't, it was a treat to watch them hover in a clear pool and slowly approach your bugs and take a slow gulp at them. This happened hole after hole and we soon began to loose count of the number of fish we had caught.

After a few hours of fishing and landing fish cast after cast, we decided that is was probably time to head back to the car. Prior to doing so, we took a few minutes to digest our surroundings and enjoy the beauty around us. There was not a single person on the river all day and all we heard were the sounds of the wind blowing through the tress and our feet as the splashed through the river. We quickly realized that it was days like this one that make you appreciate fly-fishing, Utah, friends, nature and the ability to hop in the car and drive a couple of hours into the middle of nowhere and be alone on the river. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the daily hustle of work and errands, yet it is so easy to escape it on the weekends and find unscathed stretches of water loaded with hungry trout. I have not stopped thinking about this stretch of water since we left it last weekend and I can not wait until we have an opportunity to head back.

 Thanks for reading and check back soon!

Jon

Pre-Season Back Country at Alta

Gun Sight ridge Alta Utah.

Dunyon was at my house around 6:00 AM and we jumped in my car to go check out the conditions at Alta. We parked and worked our way up to the Gun Sight ridge. We didn't ski the actual shoot but stayed to the North.

Conditions were great. No one had skied it yet since the last snow and we timed it just right. The snow had that buttery consistency that you could really get an edge into.

The Avy danger didn't seem to high but the wind had defiantly been blowing. Underneath about 4 inches of wind blown fresh snow there was a hard layer about 15 inches deep, under that was another 10 inches of crystallized fluff that could cause some problems if weighed down enough.

The one hang up we had was on the way down we (we... I am being polite here and I don't want to single anyone out on a two man trip) forgot to close the ski rack. We made it all the way down the canyon before the gear went flying off. We have a small amount of epoxy work ahead of us.

Below are shots of Dunyon and I.

Looking up toward Gun Sight

Superior basking in the sunrise

A bit of a candid shot of Dunyon

Steep angle. Notice Dunyon's skin track charging straight up the slope...

AAAHHHH!!!

Dunyon having a go

Beauty...

Thanks,

Chris Giles

Spanish Fork Canyon

I spoke to Dalt this morning and mentioned I would be in Spanish Fork this afternoon. He sent me a text later in the day saying he needed to go to Springville.... Might as well take a look at the river and hey, we both happened to have our gear on hand (like a good opportunistic fisherman does).

We met at the mouth of the canyon after work had ended and set out to see what we could find with the little light that remained. Not too far up the canyon we found a pull out and went down to the river to rig up. The water was murky but there were boot prints in the mud so we knew there were fish.

After several holes that looked promising we started passing comments like "well, we may get skunked" "the water is pretty murky" "hey, it’s new water" and "its okay, this isn’t our home water"....

We switch up bugs several times and I finally landed a nice healthy brown.

It was getting dark so we hurried to the next hole. Dalt floated the bubble line right next to a steep cliff and landed the fish of the day. Not bad at all...

The Browns were all very light colored. Depending on the river wild browns vary in hue. Some rivers they are very dark with not as much color and sometimes they are light with the red spots showing up alot more.

We fished a few more holes and caught a few more fish. The potential is definitely there on this stretch but it was tough for a while there. It's always rewarding to go to a new stream and land fish. This drainage is pretty magical at its head waters with Diamond Creek giving way to 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th Water Creeks. I still need to give these creeks the attention they deserve.

Thanks, Chris Giles



Rise for Dries

After a night of very solid partying, laughing and enjoying the company of Santa Cruz's own, Steve Grider, Chris drug me out of bed to hit the river on what was probably the last day of decent fall fishing. The three day forecast called for snow down in the valley and the storm was supposed to hit later that same evening. With the "warm before the storm" upon us, we knew we had a small window of sun shine and decided to hit an "undisclosed" creek for some wader-less dry flying.

According to the guide book, our fishing stream of choice was going to require us to door knock and ask permission from local landowners to fish the untouched stretches of the stream flowing through their private property. With Chris and I both being in sales, we figured we would have no problem convincing the ranchers to let us fish these untouched stretches. After knocking on several doors and approaching cowboys in fields, we quickly learned that we were really not welcome. Most people were polite about it and receptive to the fact that we built up the courage to at least ask, but we certainly stumbled across several people who had a few choice words for us. As Chris about group of cowboys having lunch in the field; I thought we were dead. After learning that there was no way were going to get on anyone's land, we decided to drive up the road a few miles to fish the small public stretch of the creek. We spotted a few good holes, pulled of the road and geared up to get it on before the snow started to fly.

We entered the stream about 100 yards down from our car and figured we would hit a few of the honey holes we saw, while working our way up towards the dam. As we walked into the stream, we quickly saw that the fish were hitting the surface regularly and our blood started to pump. After presenting numerous bugs without yield, we looked at each other and realized we were in for a tough day of fishing. These guys were big, hungry, very smart and very selective; we had our hands full. Required to perform very tight roll casts and present our bugs exceptionally proved to be a difficult task for both Chris and I. After about a half hour of loosing flies in the leaf-less tress, Chris's foam hopper was finally smashed. From the looks of the take, the fish was going to be pretty damn good, that was if we could land it. As soon as it took the hopper, the big guy darted under a tangle of tree roots, where he hid out until I could free hand him out. After about a 5 minute fight (might not sound like much, but considering the size of the stream it was an eternity) we succesfgully netted the fish and this is what we found!

 

After landing this guy, we knew that the river was going to produce, we were just going to have to work very hard at it. We put him back in the water and started to move up the creek in hopes of landing a couple more big beauties.


We stumbled across a number of excellent stretches of water where we could see fish rising to the surface to get their grub on. The trees proved to be my demise, as I continued to loose bugs and get frustrated over the difficult fishing conditions. I was able to present a few bugs perfectly, had a few fish snap at my flies, but was unable to bring anything to the net. It has been a long time since I have been skunked on the many Utah stretches of water, but this creek definitely got the best of me; I blame it on my condition due to the previous evenings party. Here I am missing a fish and struggling to stay alive with the overhanging trees and grassy "fly eating" banks.

We were about to call it a day when we stumbled across an excellent scum line that we knew was going to yield. I flopped a couple tight roll casts deep into the ripple and watched my hopper float through what looked like the stretch of the day. Nothing! I conceded and passed the rod off to Chris to give him a chance at it. Upon laying his first cast into perfect position, we saw what was probably the hardest smash of all time. This fish looked as if it was simply hitting the hopper out of aggression in attempts to kill it prior to consumption. We looked at each other is disbelief; the two of us had never seen anything like it. We decided to let the hole settle for a little and then try to drift the same line and land this guy. A couple minutes later, Chris presented the bug beautifully and the same fish flew out of the water in the same fashion, only this time Chris set the hook perfectly. I grabbed the net and Chris led the fish right into it; we landed it and it was a nice big hammer hog that had clearly been beat up and hanging in the creek for some time.

 With the last day of fall fishing behind us and the snow beginning to fall, we stepped off the river and laughed at how humbled we were; me especially. It was a great day that produced 2 super nice fish that we hope to catch again. This was the first time I had fished this stretch of water and it will certainly not be the last. I'll be back up there soon (hopefully in better mental and physical condition) and will land a couple juicy Rainbows.

Stay tuned and thanks for reading. 

Jon <*)))><

The Art of the Slingshot

A quick video of Chris showing the art of a slingshot cast.

In tight quarters with lots of cover, the only options at time is to use the slingshot.  No back casting usually keeps you out of the foliage behind you.

All Time Big One - Yeeeee Hawrrrrrr!

Giles: I am ready to catch a big one.
Dalt: But I thought that one you just caught was a big one?
Giles: Yeah, but I am talking about an All Time Big One.

And so the stage was set.  We were on a favorite stretch where no doubt the big boys lurk.  The flow was perfect, the sunlight glinting perfectly on the water.  And Chris' statement got me thinking, "Why not catch the All Timer?"

I certainly wasn't thinking for long.  Not more than two minutes passed and I had a fish on.  I knew it was hefty immediately, and when I saw my line sink deep into the river and run upstream, thoughts of having a personal All Timer were flying through my mind.  I had to collect myself, but any fisherman who has been snapped off by a huge fish knows just how difficult it can be to reign in the adrenaline.  I knew this fight was fixin to be a real hootenanny!

I yelled downstream to Chris, and no doubt he saw my 'deer in the headlights' expression as held on for the ride.  The fish rose up close to the surface in a smooth emerald pool, deliberating his next move to get the hook out of his lip.  Another dive, and up again.  This time he surfaced and we saw his long back with the dorsal and tail fins sticking straight out of the water.  I freaked.  This daddy was BIG!  And undoubtedly my biggest ever!

I continued playing the fish downstream.  Thankfully Chris jumped in with his net and we worked on him slowly.  We both had seen him, we both knew how big he was, and we both certainly knew we couldn't loose him.  Big Chris (usually a proponent of 'taking it to 'em') urged patience because "it would be worth it".  Certainly it was!

After a ten minute fight, I pulled him toward the bank.  Chris netted him and we both let out primal screams of disbelief.  So delicate was the hook set that once the line tension was off, the hook released without touching the fish.  I felt so lucky that he didn't let go earlier!

We snapped some photos and I laid the fish next to my rod to mark the length.  With a scratch I engraved the length into my Sage rod, knowing it would be the benchmark for other trout to measure up to.  I hardly fished afterward, numbed by the whole experience.  A few more whoops and hollers and our day ended, confirming that there are big fish in our own backyard that is Utah.

The fish is 21".  I love the pictures of Chris and I holding fish because we are both sizeable dudes (we are both over 6' tall, and our rugby frames are not slender).  We both also have somewhat large digits, and have been called 'banana hands' on various occasions.  So our fishing shots are somewhat like a seven foot tall skier dropping a 20' cliff: it may not look as big as it really is.  Ha.

And Chris' prior fish (not to shabby indeed):

And finally: (Insert your own primal scream here).

Hoppers in November???

With day light savings looming it is getting harder and harder for 9-5 ers' to make it to the Weber or Provo and still have enough time to make it worth it. So we have been opting for local, smaller streams close to home to maximize what little light we have.

Dalt and I parked and slid under a fence where we then dropped 500 vertical feet to the canyon floor. It was a tricky descent with wader boots on and wet mud, but we managed.

It's hard to believe we were wet wading a small stream and throwing hoppers on Nov. 3rd. The fish were few and far between but we manage to catch a few. I remember fishing this stretch in high school and the fish were more plentiful. There was a massive die off a few years ago when a deadly chemical made it into the water somewhere up stream (near the cement plant maybe...) it wiped out a huge population of cut throats. Dalton happened to be out on a walk in the gulley that day and he counted hundreds of dead fish. An article was written and no one was ever held accountable. Since then though the native Bonnie's have made a comeback but the numbers are nowhere they used to be.

Dalton assesses the situation...

Suicide rock getting hit with the sunset.

The girls waiting for me when I got home... You can't beat that welcoming committee!

Thanks for checking in,

Chris Giles