Curtis Fry
09-05-2007, 06:41 AM
After a summer full of a lot of fishing trips, but not a lot of fishing, I took Monday off from my filming duties and decided to do a little fishing. Headed out with Goat Boy (GB) and F/V Gulfstream (aka "the DR") in the wee hours of the morning for the long drive to Football Creek. We loaded up on McD's (the breakfast of champion fisher folks) on the way up and stocked the backpacks full of Red Bull, Water, cookies & PB&J fixin's. At the trailhead, it was a little chilly at that altitude and the wuss boys put on their girly sweatshirts to keep warm.
The hike was a couple of hours of a nice mix of ups and downs, traversing steep cliffs, big "sound of music" meadows and a cool slot canyon. The river was running like a dream and you could see the fish from the view along the trail 300 feet up as we got down to the honey holes.
The creek is small enough to almost jump across in some spots but wider in other spots, so it's a mix of pocket water with a good share of nice classic runs and pools. Nice thing is it holds fish much larger than you'd think.
DR and I started off with dries, while GB followed up throwing some meat down deeper. First little hole produced two cute cutts and a smallish brown on top. The meat came next. After three fish in this small hole, GB hucks in a trusty Kemp Bug. Two casts -- two fish. Cutt and Brown, both over 16 inches and fat. BTW, 16 inches on a stream that small is pretty decent -- although they do have a good share of big brothers hanging out there too.
Anyhoo...we keep working upstream having a good ol' time. GB and DR were nailing some very nice football fish all along the way. I, on the other hand, was getting a little tired of the 10 to 12 inchers and wanted a big 'un to rid myself of the shame. The Kemp bug was tempting, but I wanted to at least stick to a dry for the chance of sticking a pig on top. Next hole up, I take my turn. I cast the Grumpy Frumpy into the tailout of the pocket behind a nice sized boulder. Just as the fly is about to end its drift, a nose pokes out of the water to snarf the fly. I saw the fish was not small, got a little excited and experienced premature fly-set-culation. Ripped it right out of his mouth. I cursed the little punk and kept casting. A few casts later, and a flash below the dry attacks the dropper. Missed him again. Not happy.
So, I move up a few feet and cast to the last little section in this run. Nothing. Finally, I say "one more cast" and we'll move up to the next hole. I shoot the fly up above a little shelf drop-off and let it float down. As the fly reaches the shelf, I see the dry just disappear. Fish on, sucka. Took a minute or two to wrangle the beast, but the little 3 wt did the job with no problemo. Great looking Brown and probably bigger than most of his cousins swimming in the Provo.
And then we fished, ate PB&J's, talked about future trips, fished some more, watched DR miss some very large fish in a big slow pool with skiddish fish, enjoyed the scenery and finally made the long hike back to the car. My back was sore, my knee was acting up and my feet ached from the hiking (yeah, I need to get into better shape), but it was a perfect day on the water. Fun fish, good friends and enjoying some remote quiet water. Kinda reminds me of something Henry David Thoreau once wrote: "Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after". Guess that puts it into perspective.
So I figured I'd put this down in writing along with some DR photos to give y'all something to read and take the mind off the daily grind and offset the grousing and fighting that go on 'round these parts from time to time. Hope you enjoy.
Th-th-th that's all folks!
The hike was a couple of hours of a nice mix of ups and downs, traversing steep cliffs, big "sound of music" meadows and a cool slot canyon. The river was running like a dream and you could see the fish from the view along the trail 300 feet up as we got down to the honey holes.
The creek is small enough to almost jump across in some spots but wider in other spots, so it's a mix of pocket water with a good share of nice classic runs and pools. Nice thing is it holds fish much larger than you'd think.
DR and I started off with dries, while GB followed up throwing some meat down deeper. First little hole produced two cute cutts and a smallish brown on top. The meat came next. After three fish in this small hole, GB hucks in a trusty Kemp Bug. Two casts -- two fish. Cutt and Brown, both over 16 inches and fat. BTW, 16 inches on a stream that small is pretty decent -- although they do have a good share of big brothers hanging out there too.
Anyhoo...we keep working upstream having a good ol' time. GB and DR were nailing some very nice football fish all along the way. I, on the other hand, was getting a little tired of the 10 to 12 inchers and wanted a big 'un to rid myself of the shame. The Kemp bug was tempting, but I wanted to at least stick to a dry for the chance of sticking a pig on top. Next hole up, I take my turn. I cast the Grumpy Frumpy into the tailout of the pocket behind a nice sized boulder. Just as the fly is about to end its drift, a nose pokes out of the water to snarf the fly. I saw the fish was not small, got a little excited and experienced premature fly-set-culation. Ripped it right out of his mouth. I cursed the little punk and kept casting. A few casts later, and a flash below the dry attacks the dropper. Missed him again. Not happy.
So, I move up a few feet and cast to the last little section in this run. Nothing. Finally, I say "one more cast" and we'll move up to the next hole. I shoot the fly up above a little shelf drop-off and let it float down. As the fly reaches the shelf, I see the dry just disappear. Fish on, sucka. Took a minute or two to wrangle the beast, but the little 3 wt did the job with no problemo. Great looking Brown and probably bigger than most of his cousins swimming in the Provo.
And then we fished, ate PB&J's, talked about future trips, fished some more, watched DR miss some very large fish in a big slow pool with skiddish fish, enjoyed the scenery and finally made the long hike back to the car. My back was sore, my knee was acting up and my feet ached from the hiking (yeah, I need to get into better shape), but it was a perfect day on the water. Fun fish, good friends and enjoying some remote quiet water. Kinda reminds me of something Henry David Thoreau once wrote: "Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after". Guess that puts it into perspective.
So I figured I'd put this down in writing along with some DR photos to give y'all something to read and take the mind off the daily grind and offset the grousing and fighting that go on 'round these parts from time to time. Hope you enjoy.
Th-th-th that's all folks!