Uintah Road Trip

Uintah Road trip

I have to go to Vernal to look at a few jobs. So, if I’m going to Vernal, two things must happen:  one I must fish; because the Basin is the holy land. Brigham Young said “This is the place” referring to the Salt Lake Valley. But I say the holy land for fly fishing is the Basin, starting at the upper Provo and ending past Vernal at the Green or Jones Hole. If you consider the entire state, there are some great rivers, rivers that can hold their own with any other western state—for trout that is. But no other area has such an abundant amount of hallowed rivers as the Basin.

The second thing that must be done… ride the bike instead of drive the car. My plan is to take Wolf Creek Pass, then go past Altamont, Roosevelt, on to Vernal.  I will look at the jobs, then either stop at Uintah River or White Rocks. The only problem is that I think there are a few fires burning up Uintah canyon and I’m not really sure if they are contained. So maybe I will stay up Rock Creek canyon then decide what to do the next day. If my buddy Stan reads this I know he's saying out loud, "what why didn't you hit Jones Hole?" Honestly Stan I really wanted to so many rivers, so little time....

The drive up Wolf Creek could not be any better, all the way from Woodland to Altamont I have to pass one car, that’s it. Did you hear what I just said? I had only one car ahead of me through the whole canyon!  The ride was total bliss. The day was hot so reaching the peak which is almost 10,000 ft. was cool and refreshing. If you know Wolf Creek, you know how each turn screams out motorcycle; it’s winding and scenic and calm. When you get to Hanna and Tabby I love the rolling green fields of alfalfa, the cows and the whole simple farm life feel.  The Duchesne River follows the road at some points, which also helps cool the ride.

When you ride there is a point where you sort of forget that you are on a motorcycle and you just sort of go with it. It’s kind of like your body melts into the bike, and it melts into you, and you’re not really on a machine. I know it sounds like I am being dramatic or maybe trying to sound cool, but it’s not that, it’s just this feeling you get when you have a long amount of road ahead of you, and you really settle into it. You can smell everything from a dead skunk to flowers to the irrigation sprinkler water. You can feel the really green areas because they swell and make the air thick while the arid dry areas are thin and hot. I have my I-pod on which adds to the feelings of being in my own private little world.

 At any rate I just love the hell out of the basin. I know I am the first one to throw the locals under the bus for being cheap “Deliverance” rejects, but I should shut my mouth. The land and the rivers are that good; and honestly most of the people out there are very nice.  My favorite aspect is the transition from pinion pine and sage brush desert to rolling green farm hills.  When you go from Duchesne to  Mountain Home it is literally 15 minutes from this transition from desert to farm hills to pine and quakes’. Note: check out some of the picks the light is really strange due to all the fires burning. I think riding a bike through the Basin may be just as much fun as fishing one of its premium rivers.

I spent the night under the stars at a little spot in Rock Creek. I just put a sleeping bag on the back of the bike, and rolled it out on the ground. I could not find my little foam pad before I left—big mistake the ground is called “the ground” for a reason. But all in all it was fine. I fished literally into the dark. I figured why not. I had already eaten dinner. You could not build a fire because they already have enough burning out of control. So, I had nothing else to do. I put on a green drake, and I was using the golden reflection of light on the water to see my fly. I could just see a little dot hit the fading reflection off the river. I was casting way farther than I usually do; I was really throwing some line. I figured what the hell, let’s make this about as hard as possible, after all I am a fly fishermen, it’s what we are into right?

 I slept like hell; the bed of rocks was just a little different than my bed and lovely wife. But whatever at least I was awake at the crack of dawn; and if you are up that early without any coffee, then what should you do? You guessed it—fish. I was a little too wimpy to put my shorts and Teva’s on and get into the water. I fished with my pants and boots from the bank for about two hours, just long enough to let it warm up. By the way have I mentioned how much I love Rock Creek? In the fly fishing world there is nothing better than catching fish on dries. Some guys nymph almost exclusively because that technique gets you down to some big fish. But when you have fish like the ones at Rock Creek that slowly rise up to slurp in your dry—it doesn’t get any better.  The water is so clear, and with a lot of big rocks on the bottom to provide cover for them, you can see a lot of the fish coming off the bottom to come get your fly.

I decided to head to Uintah Canyon, even if fires are burning. Actually I heard they were pretty much contained in that area. The ride out to Uintah River was tops. There is one stretch of road through Neola that is long and straight and just bad ass. I am not even going to say how fast I was going. Fishing Uintah is also sweet, it’s just like Rock Creek, except surprisingly there were some spots that were pretty deep to cross and the fish were smaller. Other than that it was every bit as scenic and active as Rock Creek.

The ride home was almost as good as the ride out there. But when is the ride home ever as good as the one leading to the adventure? I was “good tired” when I got home.

Weber June 2012

A little solo time on the Weber

This week has sucked a lot of juice, moisture and energy from me. I have been baking out in the sun working on my fence; posts, slats and bags of cement have taken their toll on my hands.  I would love to head to the south slope and explore White Rocks or and The Uintah River, but I really don’t have time for that. I thought of going south and hit American Fork or even a little further and go to Diamond Fork. The only problem would be fighting the traffic down there. Best solution: the waters of the oh so familiar and lovable Weber.

I know a few spots to go that are far enough away from the freeway that you don’t have to hear the sound of semi’s rolling down the road. If I have a complaint about the Weber, it’s the freeway, and the noise it makes.  A good 15 minutes or so of walking I get far enough away from the road that I don’t notice it. 

The water level is wonderful—just the way I like it good flow but low enough to easily wade and you have access to a lot of holes and riffles. It’s the first time this year I have fished without waders. I love it. Lately I have lost interest in nymphing, and I have been throwing dries alone or with a soft hackle dropper. I have also been swinging soft hackle. I start with a good sized Green Drake, with an orange softie. The wind has started to pick up. Wind--The Joker to my Batman, which just goes without saying, all fly fishermen hate wind. I spend about a hour fighting it, then I realize why fight it, walk up river, then swing soft hackle down river—duh.

I say over and over, it’s not about catching; it’s about being on the river. I stick to this comment—really. However, there are days that you just want to catch fish, and catching fish does add something to the day—well it adds fish.

I see a lot of fish feeding off the top, and I just watch for a while. About 20 feet down a small fish snaps off the top about every minute. Because soft hackle replicates an emerger, or a nymph that is almost a dry, I know it will be in the right water column. I pull out what I think is the right amount of line, and just watch for a minute. He surfaces, and I wait about 30 seconds.  I swing right to him, and sure enough, he takes it, and I set. The rest of the afternoon goes like this.  

Rock Creek Round II

Rock Creek II,

Just like making a sequel, if the original is excellent, re-make another. If fishing Rock Creek was exceptional, the first time, go back. Hell after fishing it again a week later, I want to fish Rock Creek over and over and over and over. I can’t get enough of this river. Today I went with fly fishing favorite Lee Herron and his son “The Jay.”

Here’s the interesting thing about Lee: he was genetically engineered in a laboratory to have three asses, he can defy the laws of thermo dynamics by making cold water heat up faster than warm water, and has the ability to make ice dogs breed for hours on end. If all of what I just said makes you scratch your head in complete wonder and confusion, it should. It’s really just tid-bits of our conversation on the way back from Rock Creek dam. We took the Wolf Creek Pass route on the way home and everyone had so much fun fishing that we talked about baboons, chickens and hippos genetically altered to have…well three asses. I have often found that a great day on the river leads to colorful conversations.

But let’s move on to more informative and interesting material—the fishing. Every fisherman has their own tastes in rivers. Personally I have always enjoyed rivers with big bends, and deep holes. I have always liked rivers that allow me to deep nymph. But boy oh boy I am feeling the love of flat riffle water that is conducive to dry, and perhaps dry dropper; or better yet dry, soft hackle dropper.  Its magical to cast a a dry up river on a flat area where the water is only about  a foot or two deep and bam, stealth like a big brown come out of a rocky bottom that you see no fish. Or, to find the seam where to soft meets the ripple, and they go after your soft hackle.

Rock Creek has some of the most amazing flat riffle water around, not to mention it also has its fair share of nice deep nymph holes. I have been focused on working soft hackle for the past two years and I am really getting the feel of a lot of ways to fish with it. Each river has its own challenges, and honestly its own ways to fish each one. You can’t learn one technique and expect it to work on every water situation you encounter. Also with each different feeding pattern, you have to adjust. You often hear fishermen who are between novice and expert say, “I just want to add a few arrows to my quiver.” Soft hackle techniques can fill your quiver with enough arrows to compete with Robin Hood, but you still need to know how to use them. Rock Creek is an exceptional river to use a lot of those arrows; not to mention it’s a great place to simple throw a dry.

I know I am going to fish Rock Creek a lot more, and I know I am going to keep fishing with Lee.  I don’t know how much Jay will join us; he’s a young college kid home on vacation about to embark on Columbia University. But when he’s in town I hope he joins us—cool kid (I think he takes after his mother).

Rock Creek

Rock Creek:

Today’s theme:                Long overdue! My fishing & blogging life has suffered a serious blow, square to the rib cage; Rock Creek just put a stout end to all that.  Johnny and I have been talking about really working the South Slope of the Uintahs and the rivers of the Basin. Rock Creek is one of them.

My brother-in-law, Evan, is in town from Washington, and is planning on moving to Salt Lake. He is new to fly fishing, but is about as easy as a pair of Hush Puppies to bring along; so we let him tag. He even brought his little dog “Chacho” who is also Hush Puppy herself. We were on the road by 5:00 which is really needed if you live in Salt Lake, because it is a jaunt to get to Rock Creek. But for me the drive is fishing, and I really love the whole way to the Basin. The transition from the desert look of Duchesne to the rolling green hills of Mountain Home really tops the drive off.

The river itself is not misnamed, there are a few rocks there, but that’s a good thing on many levels. First off it’s beautiful; second it creates an ideal environment for bug life, leading to an ideal fish life. Uintah fish spend a good chunk of the year is sub-freezing temps which makes both fish and  bugs sluggish. This means when the weather warms up the dinner bell rings, and the dinner bell rang and rang and rang.

If every day you caught fish after fish you would get bored. I think one of the biggest reasons fishermen go to the fly rod is that exact reason, they are looking for some painful fishless days on the river. However, those days need to be rewarded with days of being a pig in the mud.  Rock Creek was my trough and I was the little pig who just wouldn’t leave.

I went up river with Evan, and Johnny went down. Evan hunkered into a hole, and I put on some miles. I kept pushing up river, which would split into two and sometimes three forks. I was fishing with a stimmie, and a dropper. Fish were happy eating both.  About an hour or two into it, I decided to drop the dropper, to wallow in dry fly glory. At one hole the river joined from two sections coming together. A tree was hanging over the hole creating a total fish paradise and at the same time forcing me to throw a curve ball. The first good cast put the stimmie right in line to attract. It didn’t take more than a second, and a nice brown came up slow but steady from the bottom.  Without hesitation he slowly slurped it in. I have a tendency to set the hook too fast with dries so I let this guy take the fly down—set. This hole had so many fish I almost got bored—almost.

We wallowed in fishing glory until dusk. The day ended with Johnny using the Go-Pro catching me making long casts to sighted top feeders.  The last fish was almost out of my casting range, sitting right in front of a rock, taking flies off the top about every 30 seconds. I timed it and got a cast about 5 feet above him—bam right on cue he hit. What more do you want.