Fall Fly Fishing: In Search of Solitude

As the sun made its course over the rim of the mountain, and the cool mountain air began to chill my body, I made my way across to a fishy area on the corner of the lake. I spotted two submerged logs, and knew I had to land a fly right in-between. I launched a couple casts in the area, but came up either too short or too long. I honed in and made another cast, this time landing my chironomid right on the mark. Heart racing, eyesight keen on the target, fingers numb, I slowly yet anxiously begin stripping line. Within a matter of seconds I feel the tug and my senses erupt. This had to be a tiger from the way that it pulled, and my biggest of the day. A minute later, resting in the cradle of my net, I confirm both. A perfect way to end the trip.

Maze of Colors

Rewind four days:

Once again, fall arrived and Mike and I set out for the mountains. A cold spell had crept in a few days prior, unleashing the crisp air throughout Utah. Knowing it would be cold, I packed for the elements.

As per tradition, and not always intentional, we roll up onto the mountain at nightfall. While stepping out of the jeep at our intended campsite for the next four nights, a cold fifteen degree wave hits my body and I quickly reach for the fleece. It was a wake up call to my warm, southern Utah body. Luckily, I was prepared.

The following mornings cold sting was briefly halted with a cup of hot chocolate and oatmeal-my go to meal for the following mornings to warm my cold body. It was soon fishin' time so we rigged our three weights and made the short trek to the nearby lake, only to find it basically frozen over. While not surprised due to the cold spell we were dealing with, we kept our heads up and searched out to find the inlet to the lake, knowing there had to be some open water there. We did find open water, but the fish were weary and scattered at even the most delicately presented fly. Mike eventually went subsurface and fooled a couple twelve inch brookies, while I stayed on top and drifted numerous dry flies with no avail. I then tied on my trusty shuttlecock midge emerger, and first cast had an immediate explosive hit that my freezing hands were not prepared for. I eventually did end up fooling a few fish to the net, and it was nice to get on the board with these small, yet beautiful char.

Frozen over

This lake we were fishing was quite low, and clearly the division was going to release about all the water prior to winter. Being now lunchtime, and knowing these fish would winter kill, we caught and kept a few and spent a good time preparing them for tasty brook trout tacos. All the preparation was worth it, as they were spicy and flavorful. It had been years since I had eaten trout, let alone cleaned and prep them myself. It was worth it.

Bring on the meat

Headed for the fire

With a few hours of daylight left, we trekked up to a lake that had been good to us this past Spring. I rigged a reliable leech pattern and worked my way around the lake. I fooled one cutthroat on the leech, and a nice tiger on a chironomid.

Go to fly

The following morning I ate a hefty breakfast, and readied my gear for what was to be an eight mile round trip hike to a favorite lake of ours. It was now time to chase some char, and I was excited to feel the bend of big brookies at the end of my line, as I had this past Spring. We approached the lake from a different direction this time, and encountered many rocky climbs. At the halfway point, we were welcomed with this exquisite view and were able to give our muscles some relief.

One step at a time

After a long hike, many changed flies, and only one fish to the net, we eventually left the lake scratching our heads. What happened to the fish? We did see a few, but not the quantity we saw in the Spring. It was a total bust. Luckily, the views were nice.

Lots of boulders, no fish in sight.

Due to the lack of fish, I shot some bug photos.

After a cool late evening hike through the woods, we eventually made it back to camp. Prior to the hike, Mike downed a half full unopened five hour energy, which apparently was a bad batch and not sitting well. We got back to camp and within the hour Mike was hunched over and puking. Luckily, he felt better afterward and was able to eat and return to bed.

Due to the not so fishy day we had prior, our hopes were high on yet another lake we had success with this past Spring. It was to be the same lake we went to in the evening on our first day where I caught two fish. The plan was to fish this lake all day, and really study and figure out where and what these fish eat.

After a short hike, we arrive at the lake to find that no one was there, which was awesome. We began working the outer edge of the lake with no success, and decide to venture out for deeper water. On my first cast, I get a small hit on my line, but do not connect. Mike, after a couple casts, experiences the same outcome. We decide to head over to the other side of the lake, where we had such great success last Spring.

My arsenal

The following hours of the day can be summed up with one word, epic. About an hour or so later in the day, an October caddis hatch erupted bringing fish to the surface.

Next time ill be bringing some size 8

Mike and I each found a solid rock to stand on in the lake, and spent hours casting to cruising fish. It was a moment I'll never forget. Dark colorful fall Bonneville cutthroat were eager to take just about any dry fly we offered. The tigers, though more elusive, showed there colors and sipped our dry flies as well. Mikes first fish of the day, taken on his trusty reliable purple haze, was a hefty tiger. He could see the fish come up from the depths and erupt on his fly. It was a tough battle to the net, but within a minute we were both looking at an amazing specimen.

Big and bold

With nighttime upon us, the crescent moon illuminating the surrounding trees, our minds shift from delicate flies, to big hairy meaty specimens. It was now time for the mouse game.

Mike rigs a knock of Fly Fish Food pattern and sets out to his designated rock out on the lake. I wait on the shore, camera ready, taking in my surroundings and contemplating life. My mind wanders as I think about all the fish I caught today, and how blessed I am to be here, It's constantly interrupted by all the explosive hits Mike was having on his mouse, but no connection. I think of my family, and how much I love them. I think of Gods creation, and how grateful I am for the mountains he created. Without them, I would not feel the sense of escape and ease they bring into my life. My thoughts are interrupted again. This time from the distant howling of coyotes over the rim of the mountain. I am reminded of how wild of a place I am in, and that there's no where else I'd rather be.

After about an hour, we decide to try a different area on the lake, and I get it on the mouse game. Mike starts out on a spot he had a solid fish hit earlier in the day. Within a couple casts, an explosive flush disrupts the quiet dark water, but again no connection. I work my mouse along the edge against logs and structure, but tonight I never experience any hits on my furry concoction. As I keep chuckin' my mouse to fishy lies, Mike heads out to his trusty rock yet once again. His drive amazes me. Though, its not hard to understand, considering all the action he was getting earlier. Within a matter of minutes, the quiet mountain air was intensely interrupted with a loud scream. Mike finally connected, and he was ecstatic. Being all the way across the lake, I could only hear the splashing and see the distant light from his headlamp hitting the water. Though I wish I was there, taking in the excitement next to him, I was smiling and happy that he finally tricked a fish on a mouse. One day, I will do the same.

Mouth full of meat

Being now close to midnight, we make the short trip back to camp. Walking through the woods at night can be creepy. At one point, walking side by side through the thick trees, we both hear an eerie sound like a low growl. We both immediately stop. My heart pounding, I look over to my left, only to discover it was the sound of a tree swaying ever so slightly in the wind. I could of sworn it was an animal. After a sigh of relief, we trudged on and safely make it back to camp.

The last couple hours of our night, I take advantage of the magnificent night sky and shoot some photography. Mike, still seeking the tug, heads out to our nearby lake and fools many more fish. It was a great end to what was another memorable trip.