Da Greeen!

Dad taught us how to fly fish small streams and rivers with an automatic reel, a level leader and a renegade. There were no other flies on the stream. Fly fishing was for July and August only, once the water came down and cleared. I fished this way for years, catching quite a few fish and devoting the other months of the year to fishing lakes with my spinning rod. One summer, we did a job building a garage and pouring a new driveway for my Dad's cousin Gary. We knew Gary fly fished, but he used all those weird flies and didn't fish like us. During the build, there were several mornings when Gary would head out to fly fish, even though it was only May! He had a lot of success which made us want to get out too. Weston and I headed for the middle provo river where we figured was some of the only fishable water in the state at that time of year. We caught some fish, little ones, using our 'traditional' approach. Talking with Gary at the end of the next day he invited us into the house to show me a couple of flies and how to tie them. I still have those flies: Deer hair caddis, pheasant tail, para-hopper, Chernobyl Ant. After a trip (or two) to Sportsman's Warehouse and a local fly shop (full of snobs) I gathered all the needed materials to reproduce these flies on my own and an addiction at the vise took hold.

Another thing that Gary showed us was how to float Utah's Green River below Flaming Gorge on kick boats. I distinctly remember floating that river and watching Gary catch 5 fish or more to my every strike. This fishing was SO WEIRD! Sitting in what felt like an easy chair floating down the stream "with" your fly was strange, but the way the fish would come up and sip the fly from the surface was the weirdest. Fishing the riffles with a renegade meant that strikes came sudden and violent, it was too much to wait until the fish took the fly and several times I pulled the fly right out of their mouths.

Fast forward 15 years and I don't think there's a single renegade in my boxes (although I should have some, it's a great fly) and I've been trying to fish like Gary ever since. With these memories haunting me throughout the long cold winter, I decided to make the trek out to the green after several years of 'being too busy' with Dad and my boys in tow. 

Stayed the night at Dad's with Del and the boys since she had to be up north the next morning for a work conference. Early morning we headed out by way of Wyoming to the green, arriving at Little Hole not long after sunrise. To start we were the only ones around, though we knew that wouldn't last. In my rush to get a fly wet I didn't put on waders, and ended up not getting them on all day even though it would've made things a lot easier. 

Fish were active in the riffles taking beatis nymphs and I managed to catch a few before people started joining us and we decided to hike up the canyon to try a different spot. Most active fish were out of reach from shore, so we headed back to the truck for some lunch and a break from the wind. Watching more and more people arrive made us decide to drive up to try below the dam before heading for home. 

The change in scenery and getting out of the wind was nice, but Dad didn't want to fish too much longer so he dropped Atley and me off to fish for a little while and he took a nap while Caden told him all about the movie "Tron" that he's been obsessed with lately. We found a pod of rising bows to play with and they were willing to come up for a parachute blue wing olive. The  fish were cruising around a back eddy - so timing and accuracy were needed to fool them into eating at the end of a 40 foot cast. Some of the most fun you can have while flyfishing - sight fishing dries to rising fish. A few fish brought to hand and we decided it was time to call it a day. 

  

A sleepy blur of sagebrush and kids talking about random things is all I remember of the drive home as Dad made good use of the nap time he'd had. 

Hope you're as lucky,

Kidder

Favorite Hunt of the Year

I know that it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, but I still have posts to write from September! Expect a few in quick succession so I can get caught up.

Del and Atley both drew out for deer tags for the Utah Muzzle Loader hunt this year, and Atley had a cow elk tag! It's our families' favorite hunt and the one that we always try to make time for. My brother Jeff had a limited entry deer tag for a unit just to the south of where we usually hunt so my Dad, Weston and him were down there hunting before we could get away. Jeff's hunt was a success and they shot a nice buck before we arrived. Dad didn't want to move camp so we spent the first day with our trailer set up outside of our unit, making drives north into the south end of our unit and not where we usually hunt. Really beautiful place to camp!

The first evening we drove some roads that none of us had ever been on, seeing lots of deer but only one little buck. Del and Atley both said they didn't want to shoot a "baby" (Del's word), but with us not knowing the area it felt like we were just wandering around looking for a needle in a haystack. The next morning headed into an area that I had been only once before with high hopes. The area seemed more likely to hold to pronghorn antelope than deer and elk, but I knew that we'd gain some elevation and get into some great looking country. Just when the topography starting getting interesting we spotted a couple of elk. Atley was asleep in the back seat! A "Fire Drill" doesn't accurately describe trying to get out and set up before the elk ran off. Atley did manage to get a shot, but in his sleepy haze he decided to try for a 100 yard head shot. Probably not advisable, but at least it was a clean miss. Fully awake now, we only saw a few does, some pronghorn and a coyote for the rest of the morning. Atley was able to somewhat redeem himself on a grouse though.

Frustrated with the lack of buck deer and any encouraging leads, we picked up camp to move it to one of our regular spots. The move took all afternoon, but we were happy to get one of our favorite spots. Once camp was situated we headed out towards a spot that we had seen some bucks on the archery elk hunt (you can read about that hunt HERE). Del hated the rough road we decided to take for our evening hunt, complaining about it right before she spotted a deer off to her side and then spotted a buck with it. She told Atley to jump out and I told her to do the same, "It's on your side!" The deer looked like they were going to start working their way up the hill, so I had Atley walk up the road to see if he could get a shot. Right after that the buck gave Del a shot and she took it. 74 yards, open sights, head shot, buck down! Atley was a little bummed that he didn't get a shot, but he was also happy for his mom. 

Tagged out, Del took the opportunity to sleep in the next morning and enjoy being in camp with Caden. My Dad took the opportunity to ride with us and try to help Atley get another opportunity. We didn't see too many deer, but we did get to see some mountain goats which was a first for me! 

Dad and Atley were making fun of me for geeking out about the goats and for blowing an elk bugle every spot we stopped. So the next spot we stopped I made sure to grab my elk calls. Right away a bull responded, really close by. Atley and I worked our was towards it making sure to check the wind as we went. Somehow we wound up between that bull and another with the perfect wind. A little more calling and then we spotted a cow within range working it's way through the timber. Atley made sure to aim for the body this time and took the uphill shot. We reloaded and kept calling hoping to keep her and the herd close by. Grandpa joined us after hearing the shot and I was hopeful he'd get a chance to fill his cow tag too. The wind decided to swirl and the elk uphill of us took off so we moved up to the spot where the cow had last stood to look for blood. Atley felt the emotional roller coaster that is hunting when we didn't find any blood. 

The lowest of lows hit him hard as we recounted what had happened trying to figure out what our next move should be. He thought that he'd missed and we should give up. I was pretty confident that his shot had hit the cow, which made the situation with no blood to go on feel even worse because of the potential of a wounded animal that may not be recoverable. After giving her some time, we followed tracks scouring the ground for any sign of blood. The herd had been using this hillside as a bedding area, maybe for weeks, which meant the ground was covered in elk tracks making it very difficult to know which ones could be hers. My Dad had stayed where Atley had made his shot to ensure we didn't lose our starting point and it put him in a good spot if those downhill elk decided to join the party. The bull below him bugled and I returned the favor while still looking for Atley's cow and we heard some rustling not far from us. Atley snuck forward and spotted his cow unable to get up but still alert. He put another shot into her to end it quickly and Atley had his first elk!

I love how Atley has these awesome memories with his grandpa. Both his first deer (read about that HERE) and his first elk have been harvested while they were hunting together. Del's deer and Atley's elk meant lots of meat for the freezer and lots of good memories made. 

Hope you're as lucky,

Kidder

Dad's Antelope Video!

Here's the video I put together of our hunt with Dad for his first pronghorn antelope! 

Dad's Pronghorn

In our family, pronghorn antelope hunting is a relatively new thing. We've hunted deer and elk for longer than any of us have been alive, but until Weston drew an antelope tag last year in Wyoming none of us had hunted them. The Wyoming hunt was an interesting one, where Weston had his choice of bucks and took one the first morning. Jeff's son Luke walked up to the buck once it was on the ground and said, "Cool, we gonna keep it?" Of course this has become a standing  joke whenever we get an animal on the ground. 

Dad had it in his mind that Nevada would be about the same as the Wyoming hunt and was convinced that he'd be able to harvest a buck the first morning and then we could do some fishing. While I had my doubts, I still bought a Nevada license and brought along a fly rod just in case. Because Jeff and I live a couple of hours south of Dad and Weston we drove up the night before and spent a short night at Weston's house before heading out in the very early morning. Once we arrived in Dad's hunting area we found some antelope, and while the first group didn't have a buck we were all encouraged. Constantly looking for deer is just something our family does, so it was no surprise to find a few on the road.

It took us a minute to realize that there were some pronghorn only a couple hundred yards away while we were looking at the deer. This group had a buck, but not one that Dad wanted to put his tag on. It was an early decision that we'd come to question as we spent the rest of the morning trying to locate another buck that wasn't on a Federal Preserve (no hunting) or private property. On one hand, it's really nice to be seeing animals throughout the hunt, but on the other, it's super frustrating not being able to pursue them.

Finished out the day watching some antelope that were off limits and taking landscape pictures. I guess that's par for the course, as the hunting excitement wanes I always seem to take more pictures of nothing in particular. It's not that I don't notice it while the hunting or fishing is good, I'm just more likely to take the time to snap some pictures if I'm not trying to make something happen. 

I did get to cast the fly rod a few times as the light faded, but no fish came to play. A crappy hotel provided a place to sleep after a long day with many hours in the truck. Sharing a bed with my brother Jeff is always a little weird, but it definitely got weirder when in the middle of the night he put his hand on my arm and said, "Hey, you're not Lindsay!" in a voice that sounded like a Patrick Star imitation.

The next morning started out the same way that much of the previous day had, looking at bucks that we couldn't hunt. You know that the hunt isn't going so well when talk of a return trip starts up and you make plans for the next weekend. Rather than make the long drive home early, we tried a hail-mary and took the pass to the other side of the mountain range. After a couple of hours of not seeing any pronghorn I was shocked to spot a lone buck from the truck. Spirits had gotten so low that no one else even jumped out with me to check out the buck, maybe they thought I was full of it? I thought he was a decent buck and definitely one that deserved our consideration so I ran back to get a second opinion. Weston agreed that this was a shooter so we told Dad to get out of the truck. Dad walked over like he was late for a meeting and shot at the buck without much discussion. He missed as the buck was working straight away from us, but the shot did manage to turn the buck. Second shot Dad rushed and shot over the buck. Third shot he settled in, got in front of the running buck and made a great shot dropping it mid-stride. We all walked down the hill to find the buck, fanning out to where we all though he had fallen and I was lucky enough to walk straight to it. I loved watching as my Dad came over to his first buck pronghorn antelope. 

After a few pics we moved the buck to a place where we could work on it in the shade. Dad asked that we take a picture with all of us, similar to the picture he has of his Dad and Brothers. So we set up the camera to take a picture, only wishing that all of my brothers and sister were there. Hopefully we get a chance to get that picture soon.

Weston made quick work of the buck and we got the meat on ice pretty quickly. Typical of Big-Game Hunting it wasn't good until it was, then it was over. This is definitely a trip that I will remember for a long time and memories that I will treasure forever. 

Hope you're as lucky,

Kidder

PS. I should be posting a video of this trip as soon as I can get it put together and edited, so watch for it on our YouTube channel HERE 

More Than The Fish or The Water

My boys and Del gave me a "Go-Pro" style camera for Father's Day this year and I decided to get out and try it sooner rather than later. The state of Utah seems to be on fire right now, so I had to be sure that I could still get to the water but luckily the road in question was still open. Listening to the MeatEater podcast makes for a short ride on these solo trips and soon I was there.

The cold water trickling down my leg had me thinking about a new pair of waders as I tried to figure out what the fish would be willing to take. Years ago, I used to wet wade this stream but the cold water made me glad that I had half a pair of waders for today. This is one of the first streams that I ever fished, when a single fish would've made for a great day. Our family would come camping to the reservoir above this stream and I would beg Dad to take me down the canyon. We caught plenty of fish from shore or out of our small boat at the reservoir, but fishing the stream was an early obsession. Back then we only fished one fly and would have to wait until late July for the stream to come down to fishable levels. Our long-term drought has changed that, so fishing in June is now possible even if the water was a little high and cold.

I brought my little fiberglass rod thinking that it would compliment these little browns perfectly, but I kinda forgot about the usual canyon breeze and how hard it would make casting. This stream can be tricky to wade even when the water is low, but with it just a little higher than normal I had a hard time navigating my way upstream and even a tougher time casting across stream when I couldn't wade over there. I didn't find very many willing fish to start, but a few came up to my Chubby Ant even if I couldn't find a consistent producer to use for a dropper. 

The Go-Pro didn't seem to want and cooperate. For much of the morning the SD Card wasn't reading, once I figured that out it wasn't long before the first battery died. I still have a lot to learn, but it could be fun to do more fishing videos without having to coerce Atley into being a cameraman. 

The fishing got better as the day wore on, but I headed for the truck a little earlier than usual to try and make up for the mistakes of the past trip (Read about that HERE). I try to make it to this stream at least once a year, but the fishing is only part of the equation. Memories of being with my Dad and learning how to fly fish are as much a part of this canyon as the the fish or the water in my mind. 

Hope you're as lucky,

Kidder

Dropped

The day after Atley and I found the elk dead-head (read about that Here) the itch to catch some fish was working on me. So I headed South to not only seek out some fin, but also get back to some mountain lakes which I've been missing badly. Anyone who has ventured up a mountain with a fishing rod in hand knows the best things happen when you're up high.

It was to be a solo trip, Del offered to go with if we slept in and went somewhere close to home. Atley couldn't fight his way out from between his sheets, and Caden didn't even flinch when I tried to wake him in the morning. While en-route I called my Dad who I thought would be working just to find out he wasn't, and probably would've gone if I'd thought to invite him earlier. Time out fishing with my Dad doesn't seem to happen nearly as often as I'd like, so I was still kicking myself for missing that opportunity as I passed the first lake. 

My first stop was a small lake where Atley, Caden and I caught some nice tiger trout on a previous trip (See the video Here). That trip the fish were willing to come to a slowly worked bugger, so that's where I started even though I knew that rarely does it happen the same way twice. I worked the fly in close to the bank, then out into deeper water, trying to figure out what it would take today. After fishing all the easily accessible shoreline I decided to put my float tube on the small lake to better unravel some of it's mysteries. The float tube was a gift from Del and the boys for Father's Day....last year. The house building project had distracted me from taking it out, but I plan on breaking it in - thoroughly - this Summer. I figured this would be a great trip to start with and I was pretty excited as I pumped it up. It was once the boat was ready that I reached for my waders, only to find that I had forgotten them.

The deflating boat seemed to succinctly describe my mood as I returned it to the backseat of my truck. There will be other trips, most likely in the near future, but I was disappointed with the loss of an advantage I obviously needed. Instead of giving up I changed flies to a Tri-Colored Nymph (see how to tie the fly Here) and started working some of the harder to reach shoreline. Just when I was sure this approach wasn't going to work either, I missed a small fish that struck only a few feet from where I stood. He looked at the follow-up cast but only to memorize what had bit him, in order to never try and eat one again (I assume).

A cast to the deeper water required a creative roll cast (or two) but I got it out there and let it sink to a ten count. Once the fly came into view at the water color change a nice tiger appeared out of the void beneath a log and took the fly like it hated it. The fish fought like it was still hating the fly but I got it in the net after a few nice runs complete with a memorable tail-walk before sliding across the bow of my net. 

I worked that fly around the rest of the lake, but when it turned up only a couple of half-hearted strikes I decided it was time to move onto lake #2. This lake has been kind to me in the past, providing fast action for little cutts and tigers with a few notable exceptions. One of those "exceptions" was one of the best splake I've ever caught, both in terms of size and color (read about that trip Here).

Rising fish were waiting for me after my short hike, so I put on a family favorite Barber-Pole fly and started catching fish right away. Beautiful tiger trout that seemed to be a little bigger, and a little healthier, that the last time I was here. The fish seemed ridiculously eager to take my fly and it seemed like I caught or saw a fish on every other cast. I took pictures of some, but only the most impressive by size or color got the photo opp. Fishing slowed as the clouds rolled in and the temperature dropped. Fish were still rising, so it took me a few minutes to realize something had changed.

The rises were much more aggressive now, but more infrequent. So I thought maybe they were taking water boatman flies and I changed my rid to a dry dropper set-up. I like the dry-dropper in this situation because I can let the bottom fly (a Copper John because I didn't have any water boatmen in my box) sink and if that doesn't get a strike I'll retrieve in short strips which brings the nymph close to the surface and then I can pause again and let my bottom fly sink back down while keeping tabs on it to detect a strike. At least, that's what it looks like in my mind and as far as I can tell from shallow water tests. No one is as sure of themselves as a fisherman who's catching fish, no matter how little evidence he has to support his hypothesis.

My catching continued as I worked my way around the lake and across the boulders that make up much of the shoreline. Beautiful tigers and one little cutthroat all saw the bottom of my net. From the top of a large boulder where years before I had sat with Caden and caught cutthroat, I stood and caught an amazing looking little tiger. The pattern on him made his back look like leopard print and I wanted a picture. Worried that his time out of the water might be too much for him I tried to hurry with my phone. In my rush I dropped the phone, it bounced off the boulder and out into the water. The phone was surely ruined, but, after releasing the fish, I still took off my shoes and tried tried to wade in after it. The clouds in the sky made it hard to see into the water, but I thought I could just see the phone if I was on the right angle. The breeze that had come up with the clouds seemed to have a cold bite to it now that I was up to my thighs in the water. Once the shivering started I realized that letting the phone go and getting out of there was probably the smart move, no matter how mad the wife was going to be or how large the bill to replace it. 

On the drive home I thought about how much I wanted to return with someone that would appreciate the amazing fishing these lakes offer, and sense enough not to tell anyone about them. It would be a bonus if they could manage to take pictures without dropping the phone (or camera).

Hope you're as lucky,

Kidder

Perspective

Caden's account:

In the trip I remember making hot dogs for dinner and we worked on the first legends of Caden! [a book him and his brother are writing] And we went fishing for a couple of hours then headed back to have some cheese burgers! And in the last day we went fishing for a little bit then we went to camp, packed up and left!

Atley's Account:

When my Dad told me we were going fishing/camping I wasn't surprised, my Dad had been talking about camping with Grandpa a lot! So after we were ready we left. We listened to music on the way and had a good time. After we got to Fish Lake we spent a bit of time looking for a campsite. It was so crowded. So many people in one place that wasn't a city! 

After we were done setting up we went fishing at a lake that I don't remember the name of. I fished a little bit but I didn't catch anything. After we left we ate dinner, it was my brother's night to cook so we had hot dogs, they were very good! After dinner I fell asleep really fast! My Dad went fishing in the morning and when he came back, Caden and I were still in bed! It was like 9:30 AM So we ate poptarts and drew until it was time to go fishing again. After we got to our fishing spot I played with my cousins and took pictures it was a crowded area with all of the people. After my Grandpa and Uncle left I fished a little bit and caught a fish it was small.... A little while after, we left and cooked hamburgers at camp for Dinner and it was delicious! We went to bed a while after. In the morning my Dad went fishing. When he got back we packed up and left!

My Account:

My Dad decided that he'd like to go camping before we get busy building houses and preparing for the next hunting season & school year so we made it happen. Decided to get out of the heat and head for the mountains. Fish Lake is a place that we always talk about going to more often but never seem to, so now seemed like a great time to get up there. Unfortunately, some wind decided to make a mess that my Dad had to help clean up and we got a little bit of a late start to our trip.

Once we had made it down to the lake we went out in search of a place to put our trailers and had a bit of trouble finding a good one. My trailer is pretty small and can be set up in relatively small spots, but Weston's and my Dad's trailers are pretty big and so finding a spot to accommodate them was a little more of a challenge. We ended up staying in a campground that cost us a bit of money, but made for a nice camp spot. Weston came up a little later, so he missed out on finding a camp spot but still had to make the rounds in order to find us. By the time camp was decided on and set up the boys were starving, so Caden made some hotdogs that tasted great!

Bright and early, Dad and I headed out to try several spots around Fish Lake but had a hard time finding a productive spot. Dad did manage to catch a pretty splake, but other than that the early morning was a strikeout. 

Decided to head back to camp and get everyone else so we could take a ride to a 'nearby' reservoir to see if our luck would change. Forsyth Reservoir is a place that I'd never fished before but one that I'll definitely return to. The boys and I elected to fish near the dam but Weston, Dad and their families decided to find another spot that would be easier with the little kids. We found a few fish that were willing to come to a Baby Damsel as long as it was near the bottom with a slow retrieve. 

It got hot quick, so we headed back to camp for sandwiches and an unplanned nap. The boys spent their time in camp drawing and working on a story that they've been working on together. Part of me wanted them to head outside and explore, but after spending the better part of the morning in the sun they probably needed a break. In the evening we decided to try Fish Lake again, this time with the whole camp.

Lots of fish were surfacing, so I decided to go with a midge cluster pattern pulled behind a casting bubble on my spinning outfit. Initially it was the bait fishers that did well with my Dad's wife Deb catching a couple of small bows. I think everyone ended up catching a couple and it was fun to see the girls react to the fish. 

After the rest got bored with the fishing, the boys and I stayed on a little longer. Atley finally pulled himself out from behind the camera to fish a bit for himself and caught a little planter for himself. Then we spent a few minutes skipping rocks (the boys know better than to do this while people are trying to fish) and the boys were happy.

One last bright and early excursion for Dad and me found us on top of a mountain looking for fishy water. The first reservoir we stopped at looked promising, but all we saw were waterdogs (my Grandpa always claimed that if a lake had waterdogs it meant that there weren't any fish) so we headed on hoping to catch a few before heading back to clean up camp. 

We found a pretty lake to try out and I used my spinning outfit again. It didn't take long for some rainbows to check in by way of a black Woolly Bugger and Prince nymph behind my casting bubble. A large cougar track on shore was pretty cool to see, until we heard the cat going after some nesting ducks, then it was really cool! Dad didn't have much luck until he slowed his retrieve down, but even then he could only buy a couple of hits before we had to head back to camp.

Cleaned up and headed for home, where we decided to take the trailer straight to our new property. Excited to see that the footings had been poured and the foundation was being formed up!

Hope you're as lucky,

Kidder