Stretching the season

The middle of November at 7,200 feet of elevation in Wyoming often bodes poorly for fishing, unless it's through the ice. In fact, most of our local lakes and the Laramie River were frozen solid a couple weeks ago when temperatures dropped to 10 below three nights in a row, and did not get out of single digits in the day.
Warmer weather and wind has opened up many of the waters since then, however, giving me the chance to cast some line in between pheasant hunts.

Last weekend, I hit the river and found some ice along the banks that was solid enough to support my weight. Mostly, I lost flies on sloppy casting thanks to gloves, cold hands and carelessness. As I reached the end of the public water, no fish had cooperated yet. But in the last decent hole, with a No Trespassing sign staring at me, a brown trout finally came out to play. I netted him, took a quick photo, and released him into the icy water. I wondered if he was the last fish of the year for me.

As it turned out, fishing season wasn't ready to end yet. On a local lake that had humbled me on my last two outings, another brown trout, this time a female still full of eggs, took a purple leech just as  my cold feet and I were about to call it quits today.
Flyfishing at this time of year is like living on borrowed time. You are thankful for each day of open water. But you know winter is coming.

Last powder day of the season one for the books

The fat rockers are hungry for some sick pow.

As my ski buddies know, E Dub likes him some powder. This morning, I woke up around 5:30 and checked my phone for the early ski report. Five inches of new snow sounded good enough. I texted a retired friend, who I knew wouldn't get up early enough, and went back to bed. But I was at Snowy Range Ski Area before the lifts opened, riding up the chair behind one ski patrolman.
I followed his tracks to the backside, where I got first tracks on my favorite slopes - Crazy Horse and Shoshone. I skied a couple other runs then returned to Crazy Horse to lay down second and third tracks on it. After more runs on other slopes, I checked The Horse and there were still just three tracks on it. So I added a fourth. A few more runs elsewhere, and Crazy Horse still hadn't seen another skier, so I added a fifth track.

Four sets of tracks on Crazy Horse - all mine.

About a half hour later, I again skied over to The Horse to find that a snowboarder had defiled my tracks. But it was tough to get upset about the intrusion on the run that has been renamed Crazy E Dub.
As a bonus, headed back to the frontside around noon, I noticed nobody had hit the 5-meter ski jump, a relic of the days when the university had a ski team. The 5-meter is probably the narrowest, steepest powder shot at Snowy Range, and usually one skier is all it takes to track it out. Today, that one skier was me.

The fat rockers size up the 5-meter ski jump.

Judging by the weather forecast, this will be the last powder day of the season. It was one for the books. #powderquest2019

April 1 not for fools

April 1 used to be opening day of trout season, and I still like to fish that day even though only a fool would be wading in frigid, icy water surrounded by snowbanks.
When I was a little kid, April 1 would often find me and my grandfather on Spring Brook or the Trout Pond, which was stocked with brookies. Equipped with a can of worms, bologna sandwich and orange pop, I'd fish for hours in hopes of a 6-inch trout impaling itself on my hook, which rarely happened.
When I was around 12, my dad would wake me up in the dark on opening day and we'd drive a few hours to fish for rainbow trout running out of the Finger Lakes to spawn. Fishermen would be lined up along Catherine Creek or Naples Brook, and we'd have to search for a place with some elbow room. I never caught anything on those trips, but I remember dad catching the biggest trout I'd ever seen. I also remember drinking bitter, hot coffee out of his Thermos, and stopping at a diner on the way home for a hamburger and milkshake.
Once I started driving, my opportunities on April 1 expanded to a 10-20 mile radius around my hometown. Usually, a friend and I would drive to bridges on local creeks and see if other cars were there - a sure sign that the hatchery truck had just been there. A fish fry of stocker rainbows and browns often followed those outings.
I fished a couple local lakes today that were partly melted off.  As on most April 1 opening days in my life, my hands and feet got cold and I didn't catch anything - except memories of opening days past.

Night fishing: coyotes, moonlight and browns

When it comes to night fishing, I don't mind being kept in the dark.
Some of my favorite fishing has been after the sun went down. When I was a kid, my dad would take me out on a boat to fish for crappie, bass, bullheads and whatever else would bite in the dark. This summer, I spent several pleasant evenings fishing off my friends' dock, talking, drinking and reeling in the occasional fish.
Last week, I pursued reports that big brown trout were coming in close to shore at a nearby lake once the sun went down. We were lucky with the weather - no wind, temps in the 40s, and a Hunter's Moon to illuminate the scene.
A pack of coyotes howled to our left, answered by other songdogs serenading to our right. And the browns were hitting wooly buggers, tearing line off the reel on long runs into the darkness.
We wondered where these fish go in the daylight, when they seem to disappear from the lake. In this case, the answer reminded me of a line from a book: "Life begins at dark."

Beautiful day in the grouse woods

I woke up to snow this morning, but was still thinking about the day before, wandering through green, yellow, orange and red aspens in search of blue grouse.
I hunted a spot that I found last year. It held a couple flocks of grouse then, and the gunning was good enough. But this year it was empty, and I really wanted to get Xena her first bird of the year.
We tried a spot lower on the mountain that looked like grouse habitat, but produced no birds the year before. As soon as I crossed the fence on the closed, old logging road, a grouse flushed behind me. Luckily for me, not him, the bird flew across an opening, and I was able to recover from the surprise and knock him down. Even though Xena had run right past the bird in her excitement to get out of the truck, she did retrieve him.
That was the only bird we found all day, but it was just the icing on the cake. Temperatures were in the 40s, the aspen trees were surreal in their colors, and fall was officially here. My favorite time of the year.

Return to Alaska: Fishing is still great

I returned to Juneau this July, taking my son Dave and friend Jan to sample Alaska's outdoors. We were not disappointed.
This year, I focused more on stream fishing, particularly for Dolly Varden char. Drifting bead eggs through schools of spawning chum salmon in Sheep Creek, Jan and I caught dozens of Dollies when we could avoid the surly chums. The Dollies weren't trophies, but were big enough to give a good fight in moving water.
On Cowee Creek, we fished with Humpy Hooker streamers for pink salmon and had a ball catching 5-8 pounders. Bear sign was everywhere - tracks in the sand along the creek and scat all over the trails - but we didn't run into any bruins. Jan lost his salmon virginity on our first afternoon at Cowee.
Here's a video of pink salmon in Echo Cove:



Here's another video of Dave landing a pink:

Annual ski outing turns into road trip

The plan was to drive south to Cameron Pass on Memorial Day and ski the backcountry down there. We arrived at the trailhead after nearly two hours of driving, and started to get our gear ready. I had my telemark boots already on when Marty announces, "Guess what. I forgot my boots."
We debated leaving him at the trailhead while Jan and I made a few runs, but decided to play nice and go back to Laramie to retrieve his boots.
Hours later, we skinned up Medicine Bow Peak and made a couple runs, even getting snowed on during the second one.
Of course, Marty was reminded several times about his earlier transgression. But a couple nice ski runs and a few restorative beverages afterwards heal old wounds.

Waiting for snow, dreaming of fish

With Winter Storm Yogi supposedly dumping a foot of snow in Laramie over the next three days, my thoughts have turned to fishing during better times.
Two weeks ago, Sam and I headed to a lake that treated us well last spring, and it didn't disappoint this year, either. He had a six-fish day that included two nice browns, while I managed three rainbow trout that included a 21-inch rod bender.  Wooly buggers fished deep were the patterns of choice.
Since then, though, we've had wind, cold and snow, so I haven't returned. But I'm certainly ready to, once I get done shoveling snow.

Long flyfishing season winding down

The 2012 flyfishing season is ending a lot like it started - with brown trout on ice. Back in the spring, my first trout was a brown that I landed while standing on an ice shelf.
Yesterday and today, I landed more brown trout that I skidded up on the ice and snow along the riverbank. Several trout also came out from beneath ice shelves along the shore to attack my woolly bugger.
The prolonged fall has yet to give way to winter here in southern Wyoming, but I know that flyfishing is all on borrowed time as December approaches.

Salmon fishing in Wyoming?

You don't need to travel all the way to Alaska to catch salmon. Kokanee salmon can be caught on the fly in Wyoming lakes. The spawning fish turn bright orange in the fall and school up close to shore within easy casting distance.
I caught at least 20 today on a woolly bugger from shore. They gave a decent fight and are just incredible looking. I wouldn't be surprised if they glow in the dark under tonight's harvest moon.
It's not quite Alaska, but it's a lot shorter trip.

Juneau, Alaska, pink salmon fishing video at last

My Flip camera mysteriously stopped working the one day I wanted to shoot some video of salmon fishing in Alaska back in July. Luckily, Kristina's boyfriend Joey was with me and had a smart phone that could shoot some video.
I told him to get ready because I was fixin' to catch a salmon that cast, and I did. He didn't start  shooting after I hooked up but got most of the fight. The pink salmon turned out to be probably the smallest fish of the trip, but all salmon fight hard. Check it out.

Alaska: Not half-bad salmon fishing

Alaska has fascinated me since I was a kid reading stories in Outdoor Life about hunting and fishing in our 49th state. I finally got to fish there this summer on a weeklong trip to Juneau.
The great thing about Juneau is you don't need to spend thousands of dollars on a guided trip to a wilderness lodge. All I needed was a motel and a rental car. Fishing off the 45-mile Juneau road system provided me all the salmon action I'd ever dreamed of.
My expectations were high for the trip, but in the back of my mind, doubts lingered. Would I be able to find salmon? Would I be able to catch them on a fly rod? Would the 7-weight I bought for the trip be enough rod for these strong fish?
The fishing far exceeded my high expectations. On my first cast in Echo Cove, I had a hard hit and was so surprised I missed the hook-set. For the next hour, it was a fish every cast. The next hour, it slowed down to a fish about every three casts. By then, my arm was sore and I was ready to quit.

A chum salmon caught on an egg pattern.

A male pink salmon, also called a humpy.

A bright female pink salmon.

My one outing for chum salmon was a bit more challenging.  There were so many chums milling around where Sheep Creek entered the bay that you couldn't help foul-hooking them. I caught a few that actually took the egg pattern, but most were snagged in the tail, fins, back, etc. Landing a 15-pound salmon hooked in the tail takes a while. It was crazy fun.
Now that I've been there and done that, another trip to Alaska is on my list. The next time, I want to focus more on fishing egg patterns to the dolly varden that follow the salmon up stream. I caught a couple small dollies in the salt, but know there are bigger ones to be had.
Alaska is the biggest state in more ways than one.

First fish is always one you'll remember

There are a lot of fish in the world, but whenever I catch the first one of a new species for me, it's an event I'll remember, until dementia sets in anyhow.
Northern pike are one of those species. I don't remember ever catching one as a kid (that dementia thing again), so as far as I'm concerned, I'd never caught one before. On a recent fishing trip to Montana, that changed.
Using a Pinnacle Accent CR spin rod with a Shakespeare reel and brand-new Trilene 8-pound test line, I was frustrated by two big northerns that snapped my line as I got them up to the net, taking my last two jointed Shad-Rap lures with them.
I switched to a big, fire-tiger Rapala, set my drag lighter, and the next time I hooked up, that pike was brought to net and boated. It wasn't a big pike by any standards,  but it wasn't exactly a hammer handle, either.
Pike are big, nasty fish that fight hard and taste great. I filleted a few of them after watching this YouTube video.
Now that I've landed my first pike, I'm ready to catch my biggest pike.

A drum that you can't beat

If you've followed the Fishin' Hullabaloo for any length of time, you know that E Dub likes to catch some strange now and then. And, in Wyoming, it doesn't get much stranger than the freshwater drum.
Found in only two lakes in the state, the drum is relatively rare in the Cowboy State. The freshwater drum is a stream-lined fish that looks like it should be in salt water. I've caught them weighing around 2-3 pounds, and the state record is 11 pounds, 14 ounces.
According to a federal fact sheet , drum were accidentally introduced to Wyoming.
I accidentally catch drum while fishing around rocky points and bars for smallmouth bass. I know of no one who actually targets drum, but there would be no shame in such a quest. The drum is a strong fighter that will test ultra-lite gear.
I haven't caught one on a flyrod yet, but that might become a goal in the future.

Walleye makes a great meal

Living in trout country, I don't get to catch many walleye. But when I do, very few of them get released. That's because walleye is one of the best-tasting fish swimming. Last week, I landed three, including this 22-incher.
One of its fillets was enough for dinner for my wife and me. Usually, I fry walleye, but I tried a recipe off the internet for baked walleye. It was great, maybe even better than fried. Here it is:
Roll walleye fillets in a batter of equal parts bread crumbs, grated parmesan and potato buds. Bake at 450 degrees for 15-20 minutes. Eat them.

Mother's Day offers backcountry ski trip

We got permission from our wives to do a backcountry ski trip on Mother's Day, so we went. Debby had to work that day anyway, so it wasn't an issue. The night before I performed my husbandly duty by cooking Debby a special dinner of lobster and walleye.
This turned out to be the last ski of the season for me. Snow was in scarce supply this year, and spring ski conditions were sparse. But there was enough snow to get a few tele turns in, and the run back to the trailhead through the trees was challenging.
Let's hope the snow gods treat us better next season.

Last of the big ones?

In Wyoming and the rest of the Rocky Mountain area, a 20-inch trout caught on a fly is generally considered a trophy fish. Some years, I don't catch any that size. Other years, I lose count. Often, I land 1-3 over the course of a season. Last year, for instance, I landed three over 20 inches and was more than satisfied.
This spring has produced a surprising number of big fish for me and my friends. I have landed 11 trophy-quality rainbows so far over 20, with a 26 1/2 inch bow the standout of the group. On the day I landed the 22-incher in this photo, Sam caught the biggest trout of his life - a monster 28-inch rainbow that probably was pushing 10 pounds. Willi has landed more big trout than anybody I know this spring, including a few browns and cutthroat over 20 inches.
The spring rainbow trout spawn that produced many of these trophies is about over. There are still lots of big fish to be caught, but they won't be as easy until the fall, when the browns begin to spawn.
In the meantime, just the thought that the next fish could be a trophy will keep me going.

A sucker's born every minute

A face only a mother could love.

You never can be sure what you're going to catch when it comes to fishing. Today, I was expecting to get into some big rainbows, but instead was fooled by two white suckers that took my hothead leech. They fought like brown trout, slugging it out deep, yet I was somewhat disappointed when I finally got them to the surface and identified their species.
Suckers and I go way back. As a kid, I loved to catch them during their spring spawning run in a local creek. Many of them ended up on the bank, rather than released back into the stream. At the time, I thought suckers were trash fish and should be removed to protect the trout.
I once wrote a feature story for the Bozeman Chronicle detailing some of the atrocities I had committed upon suckers. My fans thought it was hilarious, and for years people would bring up the story. It became the most memorable piece I ever wrote. Other people were appalled by the article. One irate reader even wanted to fight me over it.
Now, I realize suckers are native fish and part of the ecosystem. In fact, in the West where brown, rainbow and brook trout are all introduced through stocking, the lowly sucker has more of a right to be here than the more "desirable" fish.

A Hoovermouth brought to net.

Eggs-actly the right fly

Egg patterns keep producing on large rainbows this spring. Today I landed around 10 trout, half on eggs, half on buggers.

I wear a size 10 wading boot.

Over 20 inches and fat

A darker rainbow trout

Another fat 'bow

Egg patterns pay off big

Many times during the season, you can't beat an egg pattern for spawning trout in lakes. Rainbow, cutthroat and brown trout cannot successfully spawn in stillwater (they need flowing stream water with gravel streambeds), but that doesn't stop them from trying.
Last week after work, I spotted some big trout in their spawning ritual and tied on a couple of egg patterns. They produced this 26 1/2-inch hen rainbow that was stuffed with eggs. She probably weighed 7-8 pounds.

As efficient as egg patterns can be, I wonder if combining them with a bacon pattern might not be the ultimate fly combo.