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Usdiuweyv Asei Nigayedohv Nidudohvna (The Creek Shall Remain Nameless)

Started by mattnmtns, October 14, 2011, 23:55:18 PM

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While I have been fishing, it has been too long since I have really gotten away and gone for a backpacking and fishing trip where I was off the grid for a few days. Between kids, a new job, remodeling our kitchen, and just generally too damn busy I really haven't fished much this past year.  My new boss pretty much told me I had to take some days off and I sure didn't feel like arguing. I devised a plan to go fishing and backpacking to a special place with an old friend that requires a bit of drive and even more of a hike.

As time came to go, life and the weather seemed to be working against us.  It didn't matter though. Only ill preparedness and bad attitudes would have prevented this trip and neither could be accounted for.

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While the sign said the wrong way I couldn't help feeling it was really the right way.

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After driving a couple of hours and hiking a couple of more we finally made it to our destination.  Although not completely without incident.  While fording a small creek on the hike in, I managed to find my self a half step from a huge yellow jacket nest.  I slowly tried to back up and make another way across.  Unfortunately this time of the year yellow jackets are more pissed off than a woman scorned and began to attack.  Luckily my friend who is allergic was far enough back he missed the brunt of the attack.  Not sure if I will call it lucky but most of them were on my pack and I only ended up with one in my forearm and one down my boot.  I guess it was lucky because as I am writing this almost a week later, both still itch and hurt.

After hiking for a couple of hours we were finally at the spot we were going to camp.  With the weather being dicey we decided resist the urge to jump in the creek and fish.  Instead we set up camp, gathered ample firewood and got what would be our house for the next few days in order.

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After setting up camp we geared up and hit the stream.  It had been raining pretty hard the previous day and the banks were showing it in their swollen state. Due to the high water I decided to fish my Scott G 9 foot 3wt. I liked the idea of having some extra reach and the ability to chunk something bulky to get low and slow.  Sadly it had almost been a decade since I had been to this stretch of the creek.  Some things had definitely changed while the familiarity of others started coming back.

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I started recognizing rocks, remembering runs and riffles. Laughing about spots where I had busted my a55 previously. Smiling about memories of catching fish with good friends.  It was good to be back!

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Even with the high water we managed to catch a good number of native brook trout.  We were catching them on both dry and wet. I can't say the fishing was spectacular but just being there was.  We still managed to catch a good number between the both of us and it started getting dark sooner than we expected.  With the sun disappearing and the clouds looking ominous we wrapped up the fishing and made our way back towards camp to get a fire going and to eat some dinner.

Both of us being ex smokers we both kind of assumed that the other would have a lighter on them. Not exactly the case, and that would be about the time it started raining. Fortunately I keep and flint and striker kit in my survival kit along with some petroleum jelly soaked cotton balls.  Even with the rain we manged to get a fire going.  I have to admit, I was quite pleased.  Especially considering that I have failed at getting a fire started in this particular stretch with a lighter and white gas.  As I put the fire starter back in its proper place I realized I did in fact have a lighter in the survival kit.  My friend probably thinks I was just tyring to be a show off. Truth be told I didn't know it was there, and the fire would have never got going with out some team work.

I will admit that it felt pretty good being able to start a fire going without a lighter and that was the way the rest of the fires for this trip were made.  The combination of the two are highly recommended.  The rain ended up clearing out and a nice dinner and a few drinks by the fire were very much appreciated and enjoyed.
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The next morning we actually slept in a bit.  We hadn't seen anyone else so we knew we were going to have the stream to ourselves and weren't really in any rush.   It was actually nice just to relax and take or time.  Of course that didn't last, it wasn't too long before I started to get antsy and wanted to get on the water.

After eating some breakfast, which was a couple of granola bars, we geared up.  I decided to take my little 6' 2/3wt Lamiglass Honey Glass rod.  I have used this rod probably more than any during the past year and even my Scott G felt like a broom stick in comparison.  You can really paint the water with this little rod.  It takes some time geting used to the ultra slow action and the noodle like action, but it is a perfect small stream brook trout rod.  Even the smallest of trout has you doubled over and you can feel every twist and roll of the fish as they are trying to through your hook.

We hiked on up to where we had stopped the previous day and put in at a very promising looking plunge pool. None in the pool to be had though.  It wasn't long before a fish was on.  As the day progressed the fishing proved to be tough again, or at least tougher than I remembered. We would have a lot of success for a time and then it would shut off, then back on, then back off.  However native brookies were being caught and some decent sized ones at that. They just weren't coming in the numbers that I have had on other trips. Then again the lat time I had been there I had one of those seldom "perfect" days where it semed like you could do no wrong and there was a fish on practically every cast.  This day we were working for them, but for me I can tell you it was a labor of love.

There wasn't any particular fly that was the go to fly.  I changed up a fair amount and seemed to have decent success on most flies.  For the most part I was fishing a 12 or 14 dry with a dropper.  The dry was anything from a para wulff to a elk hair caddis. The dropper a copper john to weenies.

As we fished on up the stream, I again would notice a rock or bend or other landmark would trigger a memory.  It was like reaquinting yourself with an old friend where you have allowed too much time to pass since seeing them last.  Catching numbers of fish seemed less and less important.  As someone I know used to say, "Quality not quantity!"  If nothing else this stream is quality.

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We fished hard until about 5 PM and decided to head back to camp.  Both of us had our fill, and all in all had an excellent day on the water and the scenerey was second to none with out another soul in sight.  Just maybe, this had turned out to be another one of those perfect days after all.

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The follwing morning my friend had to packout and get back to reality.  Fortuntely for me I had another 24 hours.  I helped him get packed up at some more granola bars and hiked up to fish above the falls in the picture above.  While this wasn't completely unknown territory I had only fished up above the falls once and it wasn't for very far.  I found good place to enter the water and began to fish.  On my first cast I caught a respectable  spec on wet fly. Then to my dismay nothing.  I fished some of the most gourgeous brook trout water you will ever see with out so much as a strike.

I have to admit after about an hour or so with no fish I started to become a bit frustrated. The thought even crossed my mind to bag it, head back to camp and pack on out.  It was abou that moment I realized how absurd it was to be getting frustrated while standing in the middle of a beautiful creek.  I got out, hiked on up a few hundred yards broke off my double fly rig and tied on a small parachute adams.  I had let go of trying to catch a fish and in all honesty really began to simply enjoy casting that little noodle of a rod.  I started challening myself if I could get the fly under a certain branch or to lay just right on the seam of a riffle.  It wasn't before long fish started to become  byproduct of my casting.  The fish were a bit smaller, but the further I hiked and fished up the more plenitful they became.  From that point forward he rest of the day was absolutely amazing.  I felt like I was painting my master piece.

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It wasn't long before the day started to fade.  I figured I was at least 7 miles from my truck much less another person.  It was time to wrap the fishing up and begin my long hike back to camp. That evening by the fire I reminiced over the past few days and other fishing trips that I have been fortunate enough to make happen.  It felt good to be back on the water and even better to be back in the woods.

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benben reincarnated


That's a successful get-away.  Looks like you enjoyed your mandatory days off.  Good job.


In the great outdoors your soul expands to the horizon!

Woolly Bugger

ex - I'm not going to live with you through one more fishing season!

me -There's a season?

Pastor explains icons to my son: you know like the fish symbol on the back of cars.

My son: My dad has two fish on his car and they're both trout!

Big J

Great Report  'c;

That looks like time off much needed and well spent!  That Brookie you caught had some length to it.


Beautiful report.  Well said and photos were great!  Felt like I was there.  Thanks for sharing! 'c;


tomato can


Well done Matt, never made it up there this year. A report of epic proportions! 'c; bd;0