I wasn't sure if getting out twice in one weekend was going to be in the cards for me. The wife was quite clear when she let me know that she was against it. I'm not really sure why, though that hardly matters, really, the point was that she's against it. Then my Dad called, wanting to take a trip that we'd discussed a couple of weeks earlier. The trip in question called for at least two days, significant mileage, and the possibility of some great fishing. The climate at home being what it was made me reconsider, and I talked Dad into making it a day trip. He was fine with that as long as we were wetting a line somewhere. I thought this compromise would keep me in good standing with all parties involved.....turns out, not so much, but I did get to go fishing.
We were able to turn the trip into an excuse to visit some family and that at least helped to calm the tension on the home-front. Del and the kids went to the aquarium with her parents while I went fishing with my Dad. Seems like a win-win. Proud to hear how Atley and Del were both able to identify several species of fish for the in-laws, I guess hanging out with me has helped with something.
My Dad and I decided to head slightly further North from his house to fish the Weber River, a stream I haven't fished for a few years. In fact now that I'm thinking about it, I probably hadn't fished the Weber since I lived in Farmington and that puts it closer to eight or nine years. Some things, however, haven't changed as we found more people than available water at the first stretch we decided to try. My Dad claims that I've become spoiled by living and fishing in Southern Utah, where if I saw this many people on the stream I'd pack it up, and if I have become spoiled...I regret nothing.
The next spot we tried was also sporting a fisherman hatch, but we managed to find a small, unremarkable looking hole to try for a bit. After a few minutes of catching nothing, and nowhere to move on to, I decided to find the bottom and see if the fish were lying low. Sure enough, they were down there and were willing to play once they saw my red Zebra Midge.
|Doesn't seem to be as much water as there used to be|
|Good one to start with|
Living in Southern Utah has also made me kind of forget about Whitefish. I know how many people feel about them, seeing them as some kind of trash fish, but I've always felt they were under appreciated. They can save your day on the water from the dreaded skunk, they're typically a heavy fish that doesn't tire out quickly (in fact, I had a couple of straightened hooks from them today), and live in the same places as our storied trout. I'll stop, though I definitely could go on, and leave you with a visual to reinforce my point. The best part of a River Runs Through It (you know which one I'm talking about) there's old Paul emerging from the nearly ice cold bath he just took in order to land the big one and out he pulls a Whitefish. Not nearly the kodak moment, right? But why? Anyway, we had some fun with the Whiteys and a couple of small Browns, till Dad needed lunch, or, as he put it, "A burger and a Coke." (He had to settle for Subway and a Dr. Pepper)
|They can be pretty fun|
(Not even pretending to own any rights, just using what's available)
After the quick trip to Morgan for some grub, we hit a spot that I remembered from back when I fished the river more. Though it used to look quite a bit deeper, it still seemed like it might hold some fish. After a few fruitless minutes I was starting to wander downstream when Dad yelled to me that he needed my forceps. He was having trouble getting the fly out a small Brown. After that it was on for several browns that liked anything red (San Juan Worms, red Copper Johns, and red Zebra Midges) and fished deep.
|Not sure why he made that face|
|Some good lookin' fish|
|Really purty |
The last spot for the day was a deep hole that I was sure would hold several fish of both species. As we worked up and into position at the foot of the pool my Dad hooked an landed a small Whitefish. As he released it I noticed another angler making her way down the steep embankment to the river. I thought that once she saw us, she'd continue on to a different spot. Maybe that was the ultimate sign of me being "Spoiled", because I was truly shocked when she parked and tossed her bait into the same hole we were fishing. Dad headed back up to the truck, but I waited for some sort of acknowledgment from her. I received none, and being utterly amazed at the lack of common courtesy, I made my way back to the truck and began putting my rod away.
I had wrongly assumed that Dad was ready to be done for the day, but he wanted to go back to the spot where we had first had success. The light had gone off the water on that bend in the canyon and the fish weren't interested in our offerings. It wasn't all that surprising, but seemed like a good end to a good day. Hope you can get out, be safe, and enjoy nature.
|You can see her sitting on the rock at the head of the pool|
Post a Comment