First of the Year

Ideally, the temperature reaches at least 40 degrees or more to give you a shot at a good midge hatch. Even if the hatch doesn't pan out, those kinds of temps would at least keep the ice out of your guides. You really should invite someone to go with you, just to keep you from getting into trouble out there if nothing else. You could always stay home, and that thought has more than crossed your mind as you lie in bed, but you haven't caught a fish yet this year, and even though it's only been a couple of weeks that still bothers you on a deep level.

Fishing alone does come with its advantages, like not having to share the morning's donuts, and not having to discuss where you'd like to fish today. You know where you're going even if it is a little bit longer of a drive. Not having to run that by someone, or have any compromises feels pretty good sometimes. So you head right to where you want to fish, but the first hole only ties you to a small fish for a moment before he throws the hook. Working upstream produces a handful of missed fish and nothing brought to hand, how long has it been since you last fished? 

Right when you start wondering if it just might not happen today, you catch your first fish. A nice-sized whitefish that fought really well and took your zebra midge perfectly. You know these fish are looked down on in some circles, but you can't help but admire the iridescent scales in the light before accidentally releasing it because whitefish are too strong to hold with one hand like you do when taking pictures of trout. 

Fishing nymphs under an indicator always starts out as a guessing game, then you catch a couple of fish and get that confidence back. Your fly, which a few minutes ago you were about to change, is the one they've been waiting for all morning. You watch your drifts meticulously and set or at least check every time that indicator stalls or dips. Consequently, you start hooking into more fish but is it because your fly is the right one or because you're now fishing it like it's the right one? 

You spot the odd rise across the stream in a back eddy and even though you're still picking up fish on the nymph rig you start planning your approach once you've switched over to the dry. The rises become more regular so you wade back downstream to where you can easily cross and sneak up the other bank. It's a back eddy, so you circle wide and approach from upstream so the fish are facing away from you. A Griffith's Gnat is the fly of choice and as you're tying that on it becomes apparent that the pod of fish is actually one fish that is working around the eddy. The first cast shows that the swirling currents aren't going to make it easy on you, but as the fish works its way back to the head of the eddy you make a good cast that drifts drag-free just long enough to fool the fish. A quick but gentle lift of the rod and you're hooked up with your first fish of the year on a dry fly. 

You could've stayed in bed, slept in, and spent the day checking some honey-dos off the list. Instead, you got out there, braved the cold, and caught some fish. On the ride home, while finishing up the last of the morning's donuts, you're already planning your next trip out. 

Hope you're as lucky,

Kidder

Back At It

While at a professional development conference for music teachers someone randomly said, "You sure fish a lot!" This wasn't someone that I knew all that well and the statement kinda surprised me. My response was, "It doesn't feel like it." or something to that effect which left me wondering what a "lot" was. 

 While at the conference I got to catch up a little with another guy that fishes a "lot" and some loose plans were made. I always enjoy fishing with Lane. He's a good fisherman and I always learn something from him. It's also interesting to watch someone who knows what they're doing and compare that to what I would do. It's also nice that he doesn't plan on coming home early, doesn't get pissy if the fish don't cooperate and doesn't steal flies from me. 

A couple of texts and the plans were finalized for the day after Valentines Day, and even though I went fishing with my Dad on Valentines I was really excited to hit another stream. I had lost almost all of my #18 Red Zebra Midges, so in the morning before heading out I made sure to tie a quick half dozen. I knew they might not work as well today, but if I didn't have them I'd regret it. After that it was out the door to meet Lane in an abandoned K-Mart parking lot. Not sketchy at all....

Not red, but you get the idea...

The drive was filled with talk about our jobs, places we have fished and some hunches that we're planning on checking out soon. We checked on a couple of different spots, but ended up at a spot that neither of us had fished in years. I decided to start with a fly that used to be a go-to for this stream, a gray scud. The first cast showed it was a good choice and several small fish came to hand at the first hole. Nothing huge, but a nice mix of brown and rainbow trout. 

Usually, there would be a pic of my hand holding a fish right here. Unfortunately, I've misplaced my waterproof camera and history has shown I can't be trusted to use my phone anywhere near water...

It took a minute, but Lane started finding some fish including a nice tiger trout that was a surprise. We didn't even know there were tigers in this stream. While Lane started pulling in fish one after another, I picked up a bunch of golf balls that littered the stream. I was a little surprised to find them, but I was even more surprised that no one else had picked them up. This is one of the most popular streams in the state and I know there are a lot of people who have stepped over all the trash. I know you might not be the problem, but you can be the solution. I'm going to put a bag in my vest and try to be better about picking up some trash each trip. Hopefully we can make a difference out there in the places we love.

We moved upstream, finding a few fish in each hole until we came up to a large run that looked awesome. Having not been here for so long, it was way different than before, but still great looking. Had trouble figuring out what the fish would take until I got a nice whitefish on a Frenchie. This was the first fish I've ever caught on this pattern, and one of the biggest whitefish I've caught on this stream. Too bad it was a fluke, no other fish fell for the Frenchie.

A few rising fish tempted Lane into switching flies to a dry, and he caught one bow on a Griffith's Gnat. Slow fishing that normally would've sent us upstream pretty quickly kept us there with the occasional rising fish, or a decent brown/whitefish on a nymph, but never the same fly twice...

Deciding to try a different spot, we headed for the truck. Lane stopped to fish a likely looking spot and managed to hook one more small bow on the dry fly even though he didn't see the take - he just heard a splash and set! I figured we were done at this point, but Lane said he knew of a spot nearby to try. Always up for one more cast we drove to a spot that Lane's Uncle had shown him, but it was a spot that he hadn't fished in about 15 years. During the walk in, Lane described the way it used to be. A smooth pool where a few spooky fish might be, but even if they were it would be a short game. What we found was a pool with a good run and some complicated currents.

It took a minute to figure out what they wanted, but once I tried on a #18 Red Zebra Midge and fished the middle of the water column it all came together. Several fish came to hand, including some nice browns. At one point it was obvious that they liked what I was serving better than Lane's flies so I lent him my rod and he quickly missed a few takes and landed a good fish. 

We finally called it a day when the sun starting going down and our hands started going numb. A great day on the water with great company. 

Hope you're as lucky,

Kidder

Valentine's Day

Paper hearts, chocolate, love notes and romance are what most people think of when February 14th comes around. This year I had a day off and thoughts of hitting a stream with my fly rod was all I could think of. This is the time of year where fishing could be great, even if it's unlikely. Most of the time it's a lot of casting, lots of fly changes, lots of layers of clothing, lots of ice in the guides and (if you're lucky) a couple of trout that freeze your fingers. Still, the need to get out and do something can really weigh on you until you start to lash out at those around you without cause. Spring Fever. 

A few years ago, I lived just minutes from the Weber River and rarely fished it. Different streams and lakes held my attention along with going to school and providing for my young family. Still seems like I squandered some opportunity, but with it in the past there's nothing I could do about it even if I wanted to. Now, it's a long drive passing by several other places that I like to fish and a drive that I haven't been up to make for a while. My dad grew up fishing the Weber and with him being retired now it didn't take much to talk him into it. 

The drive up went surprisingly fast, and before I knew it I was meeting Dad at his house for the final push to the river. Our first stop was a spot where we've fished before and found some success, although the water this time was really low and clear. I was worried that fishing would be tougher than we were up for but when the first whitefish ate a red Zebra Midge on the first or second cast my fears subsided and we just fished. 

Dad usually loses enthusiasm for fishing nymphs under an indicator pretty quickly, but he seemed happy to just be out fishing no matter what the method. With an indicator, weighted flies, and additional weight all trying to go different ways with each cast tangles were inevitable. A mixed bag of browns and whitefish were the payoff, with both of us finding fish.

I know that some people have some disdain for whitefish, but I don't share it. Growing up, we only fished dry-flies on the streams so we never caught whitefish. I've spent most of my adult life living in Southern Utah where there aren't any whitefish in the local streams. I think they're a fine fish. Like a grayling without the showy dorsal fin. Many times, especially in the winter, catching a whitefish is the only thing that keeps the skunk off.

Another peculiarity of winter fishing is that we don't cover near the water that we would in the warmer months. Eventually, the first hole stopped producing and we decided to move up stream. The second hole wasn't as productive as the first, but it did give up some good fish including a brown with a deformed mouth. Not sure what happened, but it didn't stop him from eating. 

There's always a hope that temperatures will climb high enough to get some fish looking up. Dry fly fishing is always a welcomed reprieve from fishing weighted flies, but when the wind kicked up significantly our hopes of dry flies and rises went out the window. In fact, the wind started blowing so hard that the water was being churned up pretty good. Before retreating to the the truck I had to try a few casts back into the hole where we had started and I was sure glad I did! The wind made casting difficult, but anytime my flies hit the water it seemed like the fish would eat. The fish kept up the excitement up for a few more minutes, but once the bite slowed down we headed for the truck and a break from the wind. 

We made one more stop on the way back to my Dad's, but we decided to not fish even though we spotted a very large whitefish from the road. I had some stops to make and Deli was home waiting for her Valentine's lasagna dinner.

Hope you're as lucky,

Kidder

Dedicated

Part of being a Dedicated Hunter in Utah is doing volunteer hours. Honestly, I think this is what keeps more people from joining the program but in my opinion it's just not a big deal. Especially when your brothers arrange to do a project for hours that incorporates what we do, woodworking. Most people know me as more of a music guy, but my whole family has worked in woods of some form so building some stuff for the DNR to get our hours was the perfect opportunity. 

There's a hundred cut and drilled, probably four hundred more to go....

To say these things are tedious to make is a bit of an understatement, but I'd still rather be working in the shop than stuffing envelopes. Lots more to do, but it's a good start. 

The wife and kids took the trip up North with me and wanted to spend the night at my sister's house. So I talked my Dad into hitting one of the rivers up there that I don't get to fish often.

You know it's cold when I don't want to touch 'em

It was pretty freakin' cold, but the fish didn't seem to mind. Picked up the first fish I've ever caught on one of my new rods (see rod pics HERE). I'd love to tell you it was the brownie in the pic above, but it was a small whitefish. But that's the name of the game when you fish certain rivers with nymphs, and we were happy to find some willing fish. Dad was having some issues with tangles (cold hands weren't helping) but the fish seemed to be hungry for a Hare's Ear as long as it was near the bottom. 

This one was pretty thick with that hump-back

As always, Dad was being a little hard-headed when it came to changing flies, adding weight, or getting in many casts. I think he might just enjoy being out there, seeing some fish, and being my camera man. Maybe not, maybe he's just not that into nymphing for whitefish....

I'll take fish like this any day!

The top of the run produced the most fish and we were actually seeing more browns than the whities we were expecting. Finished out the run with the fish of the day, a nice brown that fought like a champ. 

Probably the best fish I've caught on this stream

We figured that if we hurried back to the truck we might still have time to hit another spot before I would try and beat the weather home. That was, before we came up behind a Union Pacific truck and watched it get stuck in the snow. After watching him try and rock his way out we decided to get out and lend a hand. After digging him out, pushing his truck, and watching him get re-stuck after traveling about 10 feet a few times he finally got past the worst spot and it was our turn. My Dad knew I was in a hurry, so he managed to only get stuck once and not nearly as badly as the Union Pacific guy. 

Fun in the snow

Still, all the digging and pushing cost us what little fishing time we had left and so we headed back to Dad's house. A good day of fishing on a day that most people wouldn't have even headed out with some really good company is a win in my book. Hope you can get out, be safe, and enjoy nature.

- Kidder

It was a long drive home...