Lifeblood of the Rockies

I’m currently in a wrestling match with cabin fever, and its’ at its best right now while it boasts its ugly head and gives me nightmares for the next 4 months as I simultaneously marvel yet curse at the newly fallen snow. The kind-hearted, understanding side of me secretly chants “More! More! More snow!” meanwhile right after I repeat these words, my shoulder devil screams, “You fool! The more snow there is, the longer you have to wait until it melts and THEN you get to fish!” Ahhh, gotta love shoulder devils. Aren’t they just wonderful?

I grew up in Utah and though I spent two years of my life chasing people mostly on the plains and Front Range of the Rockies in Colorado, my thoughts have never left the mountains. I long to stand knee-deep upriver and merely gaze at pools as green as the Morning Glory pool of Yellowstone that house the demons of the deep, just waiting to blindside some annelid, sculpin or hexagenia. I often dream of runs that stretch for hundreds of yards and yet only boast one foot of depth where browns and bows stage for spawning and smaller fish compete in the food chain. I love to dapple a Ginger Quill in pocket water that is bursting forth out of a rock up some alpine canyon with voluminous effort. And I love the riffles that carry a Gros Ventre Chernobyl ant into a logjam, taunting the beautiful Snake River Cutt, tempting it with its rosy hues and black legs that seem absolutely irresistible to the indigenous salmonid. Our great Earth has much to offer us. I promise that if you have enough guts to take a voyage into the wilderness with a map, water and 4WD, you will be rewarded very kindly. And yes, I am willing to share these magnificent lands with you. I might even point you in the right direction. My love for these strange yet wonderful places are too close to my heart and assure me that I will never be able to leave the Rockies. My heart will be cloven in two.




Ahhh yes, the mighty and dusky Duchesne. This photo was taken after my friend Steve Hyans landed a beautiful brown trout that was in pre-spawn mode, and had an amazing rusty glow on its pectoral fins. I will never forget the beauty of that trout. Photo by Douglas Barnes.





This is a picture of the Salt River in Star Valley, Wyoming. I am stalking a large brown trout with a Golden Bullethead Stonefly in this shot. Alan Chidester took this photo. You should have seen him salivate at the afterglow of this sunset. Moments earlier, I spotted a 4 point buck in velvet, and his silhouette against this magenta-orange sky was unforgettable. He was a smart deer, for he was hanging out in the valley on the first day of the hunt. It was on Sept 28th that this photo was taken, the day before my birthday. We only caught 3 fish apiece that night, but none under 16 inches. That night I also had the worst case of burning legs from stinging nettle on the walk out. I knew I should have worn my waders!





I’m not telling where this photo is. It’s commonly known as “Secret Riffle” to those of us who know its whereabouts, but I will tell you that this was one of the most fun days of fishing I’ve ever had. Not one fish was over 14 inches, but if you could have seen the colors on these Colorado River Cutts and black-mouthed Brookies, you would gladly drive the 4 hours it takes to get to this totally wild canyon. We were driving through the Uintah Reservation for about 80 minutes and I had to pee so bad my EYES were watering. I have never been so relieved when I saw the National Forest sign and got out and let fly a stream that to this day will never be rivaled. This canyon is the kind of place you keep your wits and eyes about you. We were sure a bear or huge moose were lurking around every corner. It was Labor Day 2003, the first time I fished with Alan Chidester. I learned so much that it’s overwhelming for me to look back on it. We even found a knife that day. It was the first of many knives over the years. We always find knives in the river. Random?



Last but not least, this picture was taken on my birthday of 2004, on the Greys River in Wyoming. I fished that day with Al, and Geordie MacInnis. For the last 4 years I have made the effort to grace this beautiful corridor with my presence during the last week of September, which in my opinion is the most beautiful week of the year. Take note of the autumn colors of the cottonwoods, willows and young aspens. I will not sugar coat it, we didn’t catch a lot of fish that day. I caught one beautiful Snake River Cutt that was about 17 inches long and fatter than a pig, and he destroyed my fly with a few shakes of his enormous head. But wow, it was a beautiful day. And Al and I found some other great streams that day, none that can ever be rivaled to our knowledge. And we have covered the globe. One stream in particular in Wyoming is the perfect stream. I will never find its equal I am 99.9% certain.




Here is a parting shot of a river I found with my friend John Ryder Tanfield Brooks. We have vowed to never reveal its source, but I can give you a hint. It’s covered with rattlesnakes and the strangest looking brown trout I’ve ever seen. And yes, it’s in Utah. I saw a fish on John’s line that leapt 4 feet straight up that day. It was one in a million. The trout itself was only 13 inches long, but it looked like an Australian Black Marlin.

I love flyfishing. I will always love it. If heaven doesn’t have flyfishing, I’m not interested in going there.