Ham's Fork Wyoming

Ham’s Fork Wyoming

“Talk to me Goose, do you still want to go in the morning?” read my text to Colby, I was checking to see if he was still in to going fishing to Ham’s Fork the next day. “The weather report say it’s going to be 9 degrees, I’m in if you are Ice Man,” replied Colby—oh don’t ask me about the Top Gun reference it means nothing, it’s just fun to call people Goose.

I was really hoping that the weather would be a nice 60 degrees, and the fish would be starving and feeding like mad, but I would have been happy with upper 30s low 40’s I realize we are a couple weeks early, but I have heard it’s not uncommon to catch 20 inch brown, bows & cuts. The problem is that it’s just too hard for me to get all psyched up about a fishing trip, then change plans—or worse not go at all. I always say “it’s about going fishing, not catching.” However when we parked just below City Reservoir and the thermometer read negative 8 degrees below zero, just what was the Ice man thinking!

We geared up in the truck, with the heater cranked up—I figure get the core as hot as you can before you go out in 8 below. As you can imagine the eyelets were frozen after about 3 casts; I just stopped casting and stripping line in. As the day heated up, which it did to a balmy 30 maybe 31 so did the fishing, we both caught more than 50 Browns and Rainbows each, and the smallest one was at least 19 inches. I caught so many fish I got sick of catching. Okay maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit, well actually a lot a bit. Instead of going after the bland and every day Brown & Rainbow we pursued the handsome and hardy Sucker Fish. You haven’t lived until you’ve hooked into one of these beauties!

I seriously doubt that’s how Colby looked at it when he realized the big fish on his line was not a trout, not even a white fish, but a sucker fish. He released it, and started fishing again and bang he hooked up again; lucky him another sucker fish. Fish after fish, the sucker fish and Colby were one. I too managed to land a few myself. “We came all the way up here just to catch Sucker Fish?” Colby asks in a flat sad voice. “And why not?” I ask, what’s really wrong with the sucker fish? Is it the sucker mouth? Well that could do it, because they do have disgusting mouths (see photo). But other than that, what’s really wrong with them?

Honestly I have to say that was the first time I have ever actually gone after the sucker fish on purpose. We’ll let me re-phrase that, we didn’t go after the sucker fish, it’s just this hole we had was awesome, we busted ice off from it and pushed huge sheets down river; then returned to it about fifteen minutes later. We were reeling in some really big fish, and although they may not be the greatest fighters in the world, they still throw down. Why leave fish to go find fish? Sucker fish or not.

After who knows how many hours, we headed back toward the truck, as fun as it was, I was starving, and ready to eat. We brought a little bbq’er and the brats were calling my name. We ran into another school of fish, by God it’s just hard to pass up fish. As luck had it, another school of Sucker fish. After dancing with some more of those highly prized fish, we somehow broke away to get lunch.

I end on this note: when I was a kid they called Carp a trash fish. Now if you are a fly fisherman and you go after Carp, you’re on the cool kid list. Well my friends if you hook into a big fat sucker, but leave without a smile on your face because it wasn’t the game fish you had it mind, who’s the sucker?

East Fork Sevier to East Fork Virgin

East Fork of the Sevier to the East Fork of the Virgin River

From the East Fork Sevier, Black Canyon section, to the East Fork of the Virgin, one adventure leads to another, to another. At the risk of freaking out my loyal blog readers (Roger) I’m going to ask a risky question: is it more fun going on a quest to find a new river, than it is to catch the fish in that river? I know this question could mean I just committed fishing blasphemy. But fishing doesn’t start once you lay your line on the water—it starts once your tires hit the road.

Colby & I have been planning on a trip to the Sevier for weeks. I have been on line, in fly shops, and asking other friends the best area to hit this time of the year. A new fishing buddy, Mike Matheson “Math” said he knows the Sevier well—“Go to the East Fork of the Sevier, Black Canyon Brotha,” comments Math with a boyhood excitement. I’ve never fished with Math, and honestly I really don’t know if he knows Jack about fishing, or rivers for that matter. But he has me convinced; something about the guy has me hooked that he knows his stuff. But even if he’s off, it’s not about the fish, it’s about the adventure.

We stopped in the mercantile store in Antimony, to double check our directions, and well maybe to get a taste of the locals. I regret not taking my camera in the place with me, or even going back to the car to get it. This gal behind the bar making bacon & eggs greets us. We see the back of about 6 or 7 cowboy hats. They all give us the classic “you boys ‘aint from around here” look. As expected the ol’ boys and cook don’t have much to tell us about fishing the river, except that we are on the right track, and keep going down the road. But I will say she made a mean double cheese burger and Philly steak sandwich. We stopped by after we were done fishing, I recommend it if you find yourself in the area.

The river on the other hand, had a lot to say to us: it said nice fat healthy browns, amazing oxbow bends, hole after hole. You didn’t have to walk more than 10 feet from the hole you are fishing, to get to another amazing section. The banks and a large portion of the river were muddier that I thought it would be which I think added to a sort of off color to the water. Not that it was bad, and it didn’t seem to affect the health of the fish.

We had a great day, good time had by all. The weather was great, and I would guess it heated up to about the low 50’s that day. One thing that shocked me though, was that I did not see one fish rise. I worked hard in the morning with various small dries, and I didn’t get any to rise, in fact I didn’t see one fish all day feed off the top. Everything we caught was off various nymphs off the bottom. I used a bead head to weight me down, they seemed to like most everything; mostly caddis and midge. I had a little success swinging soft hackle, but they really had not moved much off the bottom. I can’t wait to see what that river fishes like when hoppers are on. Some sections of the Black Canyon are private, but they are clearly marked, and there is enough public area to fish for days.

I had to meet my wife somewhere on I-15 at 5:00; we are planning on going to St. George to see our oldest to check out UNLV. I am also hoping to check out the East Fork of the Virgin. I’m going back down there in a month to Camp with Hannah, my daughter, and we have been looking at the East Fork. From what I have discovered on line, is that the east fork has clear water coming from Tropic, and that it holds some browns & bows in it. Once the fork meets up with the Virgin River, it becomes too muddy to support trout.

Colby and I drove through Kingston canyon through I-70 and checkout out the Sevier on our way over to I-15. I have never fished that section either--it is a beautiful river. I think I will have to focus some of my attention to this area this summer. We met up with my wife in Utah’s original capitol Fillmore, and parted ways. It’s lookin like Colby is a keeper member of the “One River at a Time” club, he’s fun to fish with & he enjoys looking for new rivers as much as I do.

The next morning the girls head to UNLV, and I get sent to go scout out our coming camping trip somewhere on the East Fork of the Virgin—bummer I’ll just have to rough through it. My quest started to get more exciting when I asked the ranger at the gate about the east fork, “I’m on a quest my query begins… then she sends me to the visitor’s center. Looking at the map the east fork confluence with the Virgin is at the town of Rockville, coming from Mt Carmel and Orderville, flowing from Tropic Reservoir. I start the conversation with “I’m on a quest to find the East Fork of the Virgin…” She gets a twinkly in her eye but she doesn’t really know anything about it, and sends me to another person at the visitor’s center. I’m thinking, “This will be great, I will get some geologist, or biologist, some …ologist who is going to have some specific info.” No, again she doesn’t know of a section of the East Fork that has trout in it, in the park; in fact she says the park section is closed to people. She sends me to Mt. Carmel. Its feeling like I’m going to really have to earn this river. I’m okay with working to earn a river, and honestly I expect it when you are trying to find trout in a river not known for having trout.

I saunter into this gas station/trading post and I bust into my adventure routine with this lady behind the counter selling native jewelry to some grouchy German lady. She instantly takes interest in my story, and asks me why I am interested in only rivers. I briefly explain my “One river at a time” obsession and its clear to see I have her hooked deep. “I don’t know anything about fishing or rivers around here, but I know a guy who does,” she sort of pauses. “But he’s kinda loco.” I explain that I’m fine with loco “Well what kind of loco,” I feel like I should ask. “He’s just different, looks like a mountain man, but he knows more about fishing and these mountains that anyone around here, his name is ‘Little Dick.’” “Little Dick,” I say okay this is too funny. “His name is Richard Spencer he doesn’t really like going by ‘Little Dick’ anymore,” she says. “Did he used to like being called ‘Little Dick’ at one time?” I ask with shit eatin’ grin on my face.

She goes on to tell me that Richard is out of town right now, so I give her my number, hoping she’ll give it to him. It just sounds like too much fun tromping around the hills of Dixie National Forest with Hannah and her friend Erica, her dad and I and mountain man “Little Dick.” Since he’s out of time for the time being, she sends me over to the next town to Orderville.

This town doesn’t have more than 30 businesses on Main Street, and about a dozen are rock shops; one is called “Fishers.”  I consider the name to be a good sign. An old guy with a big beard and a beat up KC Chief’s cap is behind the counter—he just looks like he will know where to send me. Once again I am dead wrong he does not. “I was told a guy named Little Dick knows a lot about,” I am explaining and he cuts me off. “Little Dick don’t like me, but other people around here love me. And one of those people who can help you is just down the road.” He sends me to see a guy named Clark at the gas station. Off I go.

I talk to Clark’s son at the counter, until his dad comes from the shop. Finally this guy seems to know the area, although he hasn’t fished in over 20 years. This guy, like everyone else today is really nice to me, and seems to really want to help me. You know the saying “the whole world conspires to help you when you are on a quest.” He says the fork running through town is in fact the Virgin, which would match up with all my info that it is the East Fork. “Go past Glendale and just past there you can turn up a canyon that leads out at Stout Canyon, which is where you can camp. If you continue along 89 you will get to Tropic Reservoir. The river running out of that is the Virgin. Whaa-laa I believe I have found what I am looking for. Still it does not match up with the slot canyons I have seen people fishing one line. But all the same, I drive it, I scout it, and I find a lot of it still covered in snow. But who knows it may be melted off by the end of the month.

Now for those who know me, I know you are asking if I got my line wet in the East Fork of the Virgin. Well to do that I would have to bring a rod and reel with me, along with at least one fly. Well, it just so happened that I did bring at least one of the above items with me. The section I stop at has a fence, as I am going over barb wire the thought does occur to me that it may not be public access area--but who can say for sure, and I do hear the river calling my name.

Post script: little mistake here, I said the East Fork of the Virgin is fed by Tropic Reservior, which is not true if feeds the East Fork of the Sevier. The east Fork of the Virgin was really tricky to figure it out, it bubbles up from a spring. March 9, 2013