Generally, any time we set off into unfamiliar terrain in pursuit of a new fishing adventure, we recognize that there is some level of risk. Being completely unfamiliar with an area or a target species means that there is a lot that can go wrong, which could cause you to come up empty handed. A lot of times, the more risk involved, the more satisfying the reward when things pan out. There is something you can do to minimize risk, and maximize your chance of success. Something simple. It's called research. There are so many resources in our modern world that can be utilized to study up on whatever your pursuit is. In fact, there's no excuse to show up completely unprepared. However, sometimes, even after you've read and studied what seems to be all that exists on the subject, things still turn out different on the ground than you had anticipated. That is when the difference between success and failure comes down to good old fashioned LEG WORK. And a lot of times, the more you put in, the more you get out!
Check out our latest edit, "Backyard Natives." Over the summer we were able to assist with some R & D for the Colter Fly Fishing Midge rod. We had a 4'6" 4 weight model that we took to our local creeks after work all summer to chase down cutties, and we were able to capture a lot of it on film. Enjoy.
I'm not quite sure how, when the discussions previous to the trip were going on, no one mentioned any opposition to the idea of driving to Northern Saskatchewan straight through in a day. We were probably all just too euphoric about the idea of sight fishing to monster pike, and innocently oblivious to what 24 hours in a car really means. Having survived the experience (twice, since we came back in a day too) I can now safely say that it is not something I would recommend. I would, however recommend getting up to Reindeer Lake as fast as possible. And I will say the week of fishing that we experienced was worth the hell of getting there and back. No question.
Generally when you think of fishing in alpine country, you imagine feisty little trout aggressively rising to whatever dry is reasonably presented, whether it be in crystal clear lakes, or meandering meadow streams. Escaping to the high mountains has always been one of our favorite things to do in the summer, and this type of fishing is always a blast. Here in Northern Utah we're blessed with easy access to the Uintas, which house over 1000 lakes, more than 500 of which have sport fish populations., along with over 400 miles of streams. You could easily spend a lifetime exploring and fishing these mountains, and along the way I'm sure you'd stumble upon a few good secrets. Another cool thing about fishing the Uintas is the access to species that you generally don't find lower down: plentiful native Cutthroat, Arctic Grayling, and of course, Brook Trout! After some close calls with some ridiculous Brookies this fall, we were pretty keen to get back up to the mountains and continue our pursuit of behemoth Brooks. So far this spring/summer our persistence has been rewarded and we've stumbled upon some other pretty cool secrets along the way.
In fly fishing, one of the things that we (or at least I) often seek out is solitude. Steelheading, depending on when and where you go may or may not offer this. In Idaho, it can pretty hard to come by.... A year ago, I experienced for the first time what shoulder to shoulder really means, and for a moment it left me a little bit disenchanted with the whole steelheading experience. It was a bit disheartening (to say the least) to be crammed in between a bunch of gear guys chucking 8 inch bobber rigs, fire blazing on the bank next to them, and hatchery fish flopping around on bank because the fisherman couldn't be bothered to stop fishing for two minutes to give them the decency of a quick death. Such is the state of roadside stealheading I suppose. However, after a day of dealing with this, we redeemed ourselves, finding relative solitude on our side of the river by committing to a rough, hour long bush whack. After a day of basically having a run to ourselves and catching some amazing fish, I again felt the magic of steelheading as we connected with these revered fish that have swum hundreds of miles, overcoming eight dams in the process. The key to enjoying it for me was to find enough solitude to have a personal experience with the river and the fish.
This year, we again managed to find some relative solitude and enjoy some time with these matchless fish. We also got to give two friends their first taste of steel!
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