Little Deer Creek

December 29, 2011, Little Deer Creek and South Fork. It would appear that this is my last day fishing for 2011 unless of course I sneak off and hit Big Cottonwood today for a spell. Johnny and I decided to go lower Prove, so we visited two of my boyhood spots. Earlier this year I fished the South Fork, but this time we included Little Deer Creek as well. I think it’s officially called the North fork of the Lower Prove, but growing up we always called it “Little Deer Creek.”

This is the first trip I have been on that Johnny started filming, because he got a new video camera for Christmas. He has already put together some footage, and it’s really good. Shooting stills is what I do, and I can’t fish, shoot stills and video, it’s just too much for me; also it seems to fit him. I suppose some people can do both, but the two formats are really different. I feel like as a photographer, I am capturing a slice of time, seen through my vision. You manipulate the shot through exposure, light, composition and printing, where as video is moving time, a story in motion. He has decided to go “You Tube” with his presentation, and is calling it “Fly Tales,” which I think is a great play on words to go with my blog. Watching his first two films, it sparks new life into me, as a photographer and a fisherman.

I was ecstatic to visit Little Deer Creek again. It has been so long since I have been there, and I heard the whole river was private now, or fenced off or something. I haven’t been there since they widened the road, and the old access road has been eliminated. You used to be able to drive over the tracks, and up the canyon—not anymore. It was cool seeing the old road, and putting it back together in my mind, how it used to be. I have a picture of the bridge as you first approach the river, and that has stayed the same.

I don’t remember the river being this tough to walk up and there was a lot of growth, as well as fallen logs over the river. It was damn hard to fish, because you are in so tight, with very little room to back cast. As we worked up river I was excited to get up there because I remember some great holes, and I also remember it sort of opens up a bit, making it easier to fish. As kids we would fish all the way up to Cascade Springs, which was a series of beaver type ponds.  Sure enough, the fence rumor is true, not even a quarter mile up from the bridge, there is hardy, posted, fence keeping people out of a beautiful river. Of course being a fisherman I am saddened about it. Usually river access is limited because people have homes on the river banks, or farm land; but this is government land. What is the reason to keep people out? “Who the hell knows with the government, they found gas, oil, power, aliens, something, they just want to keep people out, replies Johnny. What’s sad to me is that I was hoping this could be a nice little hidden spot I could go, especially in the winter, a little hidden gem. So no gems for me or anyone else for that matter.

It is truly sad for Utah that they do this type of limiting access to public water ways. The most common excuse that land owners claim is that fishermen are evil trespassers and vandalize or litter on their land. We all know this is simply bullshit. Even fishermen that don’t consider themselves stewards of the river or the environment don’t do that. The real negative impact it has, is that for both residents and visitors our public lands are not as enjoyable; because you either cant access some great rivers, or if you can, you have to worry that some angry shotgun packin farmer is going to chase you off his land.

New Year’s Eve, 2011

I have been thinking about the fence at Little Deer Creek, and I feel the need to be dramatic about being fenced out of the river. It’s more than being kept out, it’s that the fence mocks me, and says, “beyond me you will find your heart’s desire, and pleasure beyond your wildest dreams.” I stand there a look at the big sturdy fence, posted all over it saying: “Stay off this land or die”; aka: Posted no trespassing violators will be prosecuted.”  Ok maybe that’s a bit much, but you get my drift. Additionally irritating for me is the fact that I used to able to wade up those waters, never knowing that one day we would all be fenced out.  

If you look at the history of the wild west, the first fence that was put up was the beginning of the end to the open range—hell, it was really the white man’s mark on the landing saying: “I own this land, and you can’t come on it. The fence was the dagger in the heart of the wild west, like small-pox was the death of the Indian. My six word Little Deer Creek memoir has come to me:

Fences and small-pox killed the wild west!