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TR-The Inland Northwest II-or-Age, Guile, Fur and Feathers Beat a Bad Haircut and Foam Flies Wrapped with Yarn
After sitting three days in meetings at a Best Western in Coeur D'Alene the
Thursday session ended early and now the time was mine. Friday the 18th was my birthday and it has become the one day the Mrs never bitches about me taking off for a trout stream. My gift this year was a guided trip on one of the Idaho waters. I stopped by the fly shop Thursday afternoon to firm things up for Friday and inquire about opportunities near by for a few hours liesure before taking the spouse to the Indian Casino south of town. The guy drew me a map to the Coeur D' Alene River and off I went after getting a license. The river was as clear as the other rivers I had seen. The guy at the shop said the road paralleled the river for some 20 miles and it was relatively easy to wade. I drove the road for about 10 of those 20 miles and yes it was there, but it seemed everywhere I had a safe place to park was on the outside of a bend and man does this river have some really deep runs. Given the time constraints I decided to fish pools that I had noticed on the way up and to not wade more than a foot or so off the bank. Which proved to be a very good idea as the water went from ankle deep to able to float a warship in a yard or less. If one accessed the river from the other side it was pretty shallow along that bank and if I had more time I would have explored that option. The first place I stopped had a somewhat steep bank and a series of small boulders and a large log along the bank which gave me some stealth against the clear pool. There were fish rising the other side of the pool where it started to shallow off but I saw no bug activity. I had checked in on Roff the night before and had seen some of George's fine trip reports and saw him mention a madame x, which I happened to have on my vest's drying patch. I took off the battered ant and lenghtened the leader and cast the Madame X towards the general direction of the rise. Before it had drifted to the target, it got a strike (1st cast again!) but the fish came off before I could land it. The first fish rose again so I cast to it again and that fish took the fly but again it came off before I could land it. I checked the fly and the hook was still in one piece so I cast again. I rose two more fish but again lost those before I could finish the job. I left that pool when I missed my target and lost the fly on an instream boulder. Went on down the road to several other pools, managed a hook up or two in just about every stop with a madam x or an ant pattern but lost every fish before I could land it. Finally when I got to the last pool I was going to fish prior to heading back, I was facing another deep run but no rising fish this time so I tied on a pheasant tail and one small split shot and nymphed it (no pom-pom Bill). After the fifth or sixth drift I hooked and landed a 10-12" cutt. Looking at the watch it was time to go. Friday morning after checking out of the Best Western (what a place for a national meeting), it was off to meet the guide at the shop. He seemed nice enough. I had agreed to a wade trip on the St. Joe River rather than a drift on a more crowded stream. I had told him I wasn't going to be the most polished fly fisher he'd ever guided but I wasn't exactly a newbie either. I really don't think he thought I was lying about the former but I think he thought I was about the later. After tossing my gear into his truck, we headed out. The route to the St. Joe requires one to drive across Idaho into Montana @ St. Regis and come back into Idaho on a pretty scenic road in a rather scenic National Forest and Gorge. That scenery was nothing compared to what transpired when the river came into view. By this time were pretty deep into the gorge/valley/whatever but it was a fairly magnificent sight. I wanted to take some pictures but some dumbass left his waterproof Pentax at home and soaked his wife's Kodak earlier in the week. The Camera on the cell phone didn't do it justice. Anyhow to the fishing, we stopped at the a junction where the feeder creek we had been following flowed into the mainstream. Pretty neat place in terms of the rock wall on the opposite bank, a short run of pocket water dropping into a deep pool. Not so neat place in that a fisherman drove off just as we approached and after we got out another came along and waited for us to move, regardless that he had just seen us drive up and get out right before he did. The guide suggested dry fly'ing with a three weight and nymphing with the five weight. I said ok. In his mind the typical do everything for the sport except wipe the ass trip, he asked for my three weight and tied on a two "fly" rig. One fly being this abomination of bright red foam otherwise known as a chernobyl ant and the other fly being some kind of foam and yarn thing he called a caddis. I'm sorry but if you're going to call a fly a caddis at least but some damn hair on the thing. But I digress. He picked a seam on the pocket water that would lead the drift over the deep pool and suggested I cast there. As happened every other time on this trip I got a a strike, actually I had a double strike and set the hook on one fish, but like the day before I lost the fish before I could bring it in. A few more casts did nor result in further action until there was comotion behind me. As I cast, and landed finally, a smallish cutt I found the commotion was a touring family and the kids wanted to wet their feet and the guide was trying to stop them, which he had until they saw i had a fish on and the kids came bouncing into the pool trying to "pet the fish" and then complaining that I let a 6-8" fish go. All of a sudden this day did not look too good. On that the waiting fisherman finally left and the guide wanted to argue with the father until I interupted and suggested we move on down river. While in my mind I was PO'd it was early in the day but the gaudy "flies", the thought that I was going to be led to various "popular" honey holes, and short tempered guide made me decide that I had enough things to deal with and who knows, maybe those kids will come to learn about the endangered status of many streams and help do the next generation's work when my generation is gone? I guess turning 48 makes on a little melancholy? The day was about to get much better. The next honey hole we stopped at was a section of fast moving water dropping into a really deep plunge pool. It had a huge boulder next to it where the guide could do the climb up and spot the fish thing. And spot fish he did. Our initial tactic was to nymph this pool which I did with some success. I will say his nymphs, while a little stranger looking than what I considered normal and tied with huge barbell eyes, at least were made of hair and feathers for the most part. After a couple of drifts through the pool I had a hookup and was playing the fish, but....yep-long distance release. At this point Trevor earned his tip by asking why I was trying to horse each fish in immediately. I explained that I try and get the fish in as quick as possible and it it's a big enough fish I learn it soon enough and play it differently. He suggested I let the fish, regardless of size run a little then bring them in. I said would try it and that is what I did with the next hookup, and I landed the fish. As I was about to cast again, I think we both noticed the mayflies and the rises about the same time. A PMD hatch was coming off so I gave the caddy, er guide, the five weight took my reconfigured three weight. I looked at the flies, gone were the ant and attractors replaced with a size 14 something made of foam and a yarn parachute. He called it a PMD, and his the guid so I cast it. I cast it again, And I cast it again with fish rising and bugs flying but no hookups. He changed the fly to another thing with basically the same makeup. First thing I noticed is the damn things were sinking after the first or second drift even though he was liberally applying the floatant. But this went on for what seemed like an eternity, and six fly changes. Finally he said something, "maybe they're keying on emergers" or the "drift wasn't right". And the **** kept referring to me as Mr. Knight inspite of my protests to the contrary. Having had enough I snipped his sixth fly off and as he asked what I was doing tied on three feet of 4X and reached into my vest for a fly box. I grabbed what I call a pmd pattern, in this case a size 16. It's a relatively simple tie, I use a small amount of cream dubbing (I don't pay attention to the animal type, I have a mishmash of various textures), a few moose hairs for a tail, a brown hackle wrapped parachute style around a calf hair post. He continued to protest a bit when, rather than pointing out that his flies had done nothing so far, I made the statement that every fly fisherman who ties want to fish his own fly. I used a spray type floatant and false cast a few times to let it dry. I had looked when I started false casting and he appeared to be somewhat sulking but wtf, I was writing the check and paying the tip. Funny thing happened i cast the fly into the vicinity of what appeared to be a decent rise when I heard "Oh ****" then I saw the biggest cutthroat I had ever seen, not that I have seen many, making like a porpoise attacking my little fly. The fish took and using his suggestion, i let it run a little before playing it on the reel, and landed a 16-17" brightly colored cutt. Man I wish I had that camera! He had come down and even he was smiling. I cast that fly into that pool five more times and landed four fish in the 10-14" range. So much for emergers and bad drifts eh? Finally the hatch petered out and we decided to move on and grab lunch. We found a campground to eat and I asked him what he was told about the trip. He let on that he was a last minute replacement and he was supposed be in the shop that day but the guy who was to guide me called in. He was never briefed in what I wanted. I assumed he knew that I wanted to be shown water, maybe have flaws in my delivery and other techniques noted and corrections suggested, and given suggestions as to flies to match any unknown history. Otherwise fill me in on the history or fables of the area and let me do my thing. This guy usually got the newbies for his teaching skill and assumed i was fully rather than only somewhat incompetent. We were discussing patterns and such on the river when we went on down the road to continue fishing. By this time it was probably 1pm, while I had him for the whole day my wife was peacefully reading in the truck. As we headed out towards his next hole, we came around a bend with about a 200 yard stretch of just about every type of trout water one could find. Long pocket runs dropping into deep dark pools with sweepers and smaller instream boulders creating wonderful looking seams. I asked him to stop there and he started to protest that his hole was around the bend. I suggested we fish this stretch up to his pool, I could see him ponder a minute before agreeing to it. We got out at the base and walked back to the base of the stretch and started casting my pmd to the riffles. I took a few fish in this manner and came to the first boulder influenced run. He handed me the five weight and I declined and told him to fish it. He looked at me strange and I explained that I was having fun with my three weight and he could follow me around like a caddy and carry the damn thing or he could use the opportunity to find new water for future clients and that all he had to do was to keep me from doing something stupid or dangerous around the deep runs. For the next four hours we fished this stretch up through his honey hole and beyond. To be fair, his honey hole was a honey of a hole and gave up several cutts. We'd take turns dry flying or nymphing the pocket waters, turbulent runs and the deep holes. I think we hooked about the same number of fish tho he tended to nymph more and catch a the bigger fish, none were as big as the one I took earlier. I would forget to let them run at times and execute a long distance release. But it was fun, relaxing, and whether he was sincere or not, he stated that "maybe I should have been guiding him", I thanked him for the complement and I'm sure I must have had a big **** eating grin on. When we finally had fished the stretch, the honey hole and the stretch beyond that, I called it quits even though I was technically paying to fish until sunset but Renee had been a good camper in the truck all day and this was one of the best gifts she could have given me. He took us back a different route though some of the most rugged and beautiful country one could ever expect to see from an auto and my wife got to see wildlife she had never got to see outside of a zoo. I think, or at least hope that maybe she begins the see what I see in getting out of the subdivision and out of cell range from time to time. We exchanged various flies, especially my pmd tie g. As I was putting stuff in my gear bag he saw the box of hex imitations I use in Michigan and asked about it. I described the night fishing and then pulled one of the big spinner imitations out for him and his jaw dropped. We've exchanged info and he says he's coming out to fish with me next June, we'll see but he did ask me to come back as a fishing partner and not a client when I could get back that way. I think I will. Wayne And fwiw, the TSA and the airlines allowed the rods as carry on during the return on the 19th. |
#2
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TR-The Inland Northwest II-or-Age, Guile, Fur and Feathers Beat a Bad Haircut and Foam Flies Wrapped with Yarn
"Wayne Knight" wrote in message ... ...We found a campground to eat.... Blech! O.k., note to self: Wayne does NOT participate in menu planning in da Yoop! Aside from that, nice report. Thanks. Wolfgang |
#3
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TR-The Inland Northwest II-or-Age, Guile, Fur and Feathers Beat a Bad Haircut and Foam Flies Wrapped with Yarn
Wayne Knight wrote: snip Thanks for taking us along. I enjoyed it very much. Steve |
#4
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TR-The Inland Northwest II-or-Age, Guile, Fur and Feathers Beat a Bad Haircut and Foam Flies Wrapped with Yarn
Glad you had a great day on the St Joe. I've only fished it once, I think I went upstream from where the road from St Regis finally connects up with the St Joe, but I've been dying to go back jh |
#5
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TR-The Inland Northwest II-or-Age, Guile, Fur and Feathers Beat a Bad Haircut and Foam Flies Wrapped with Yarn
"Wayne Knight" wrote in message ... Great report snipped. I grew up fishing the St. Joe in the late 70's early 80's... Awesome place. I try and get up their once or twice a year. Thank for the fish along, JT |
#6
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TR-The Inland Northwest II-or-Age, Guile, Fur and Feathers Beat a Bad Haircut and Foam Flies Wrapped with Yarn
"Wayne Knight" wrote in message ... After sitting three days in meetings at a Best Western in Coeur D'Alene the Thursday session ended early and now the time was mine. Friday the 18th was my birthday and it has become the one day the Mrs never bitches about me taking off for a trout stream. My gift this year was a guided trip on one of the Idaho waters. I stopped by the fly shop Thursday afternoon to firm things up for Friday and inquire about opportunities near by for a few hours liesure before taking the spouse to the Indian Casino south of town. The guy drew me a map to the Coeur D' Alene River and off I went after getting a license. The river was as clear as the other rivers I had seen. The guy at the shop said the road paralleled the river for some 20 miles and it was relatively easy to wade. I drove the road for about 10 of those 20 miles and yes it was there, but it seemed everywhere I had a safe place to park was on the outside of a bend and man does this river have some really deep runs. Given the time constraints I decided to fish pools that I had noticed on the way up and to not wade more than a foot or so off the bank. Which proved to be a very good idea as the water went from ankle deep to able to float a warship in a yard or less. If one accessed the river from the other side it was pretty shallow along that bank and if I had more time I would have explored that option. The first place I stopped had a somewhat steep bank and a series of small boulders and a large log along the bank which gave me some stealth against the clear pool. There were fish rising the other side of the pool where it started to shallow off but I saw no bug activity. I had checked in on Roff the night before and had seen some of George's fine trip reports and saw him mention a madame x, which I happened to have on my vest's drying patch. I took off the battered ant and lenghtened the leader and cast the Madame X towards the general direction of the rise. Before it had drifted to the target, it got a strike (1st cast again!) but the fish came off before I could land it. The first fish rose again so I cast to it again and that fish took the fly but again it came off before I could land it. I checked the fly and the hook was still in one piece so I cast again. I rose two more fish but again lost those before I could finish the job. I left that pool when I missed my target and lost the fly on an instream boulder. Went on down the road to several other pools, managed a hook up or two in just about every stop with a madam x or an ant pattern but lost every fish before I could land it. Finally when I got to the last pool I was going to fish prior to heading back, I was facing another deep run but no rising fish this time so I tied on a pheasant tail and one small split shot and nymphed it (no pom-pom Bill). After the fifth or sixth drift I hooked and landed a 10-12" cutt. Looking at the watch it was time to go. Friday morning after checking out of the Best Western (what a place for a national meeting), it was off to meet the guide at the shop. He seemed nice enough. I had agreed to a wade trip on the St. Joe River rather than a drift on a more crowded stream. I had told him I wasn't going to be the most polished fly fisher he'd ever guided but I wasn't exactly a newbie either. I really don't think he thought I was lying about the former but I think he thought I was about the later. After tossing my gear into his truck, we headed out. The route to the St. Joe requires one to drive across Idaho into Montana @ St. Regis and come back into Idaho on a pretty scenic road in a rather scenic National Forest and Gorge. That scenery was nothing compared to what transpired when the river came into view. By this time were pretty deep into the gorge/valley/whatever but it was a fairly magnificent sight. I wanted to take some pictures but some dumbass left his waterproof Pentax at home and soaked his wife's Kodak earlier in the week. The Camera on the cell phone didn't do it justice. Anyhow to the fishing, we stopped at the a junction where the feeder creek we had been following flowed into the mainstream. Pretty neat place in terms of the rock wall on the opposite bank, a short run of pocket water dropping into a deep pool. Not so neat place in that a fisherman drove off just as we approached and after we got out another came along and waited for us to move, regardless that he had just seen us drive up and get out right before he did. The guide suggested dry fly'ing with a three weight and nymphing with the five weight. I said ok. In his mind the typical do everything for the sport except wipe the ass trip, he asked for my three weight and tied on a two "fly" rig. One fly being this abomination of bright red foam otherwise known as a chernobyl ant and the other fly being some kind of foam and yarn thing he called a caddis. I'm sorry but if you're going to call a fly a caddis at least but some damn hair on the thing. But I digress. He picked a seam on the pocket water that would lead the drift over the deep pool and suggested I cast there. As happened every other time on this trip I got a a strike, actually I had a double strike and set the hook on one fish, but like the day before I lost the fish before I could bring it in. A few more casts did nor result in further action until there was comotion behind me. As I cast, and landed finally, a smallish cutt I found the commotion was a touring family and the kids wanted to wet their feet and the guide was trying to stop them, which he had until they saw i had a fish on and the kids came bouncing into the pool trying to "pet the fish" and then complaining that I let a 6-8" fish go. All of a sudden this day did not look too good. On that the waiting fisherman finally left and the guide wanted to argue with the father until I interupted and suggested we move on down river. While in my mind I was PO'd it was early in the day but the gaudy "flies", the thought that I was going to be led to various "popular" honey holes, and short tempered guide made me decide that I had enough things to deal with and who knows, maybe those kids will come to learn about the endangered status of many streams and help do the next generation's work when my generation is gone? I guess turning 48 makes on a little melancholy? The day was about to get much better. The next honey hole we stopped at was a section of fast moving water dropping into a really deep plunge pool. It had a huge boulder next to it where the guide could do the climb up and spot the fish thing. And spot fish he did. Our initial tactic was to nymph this pool which I did with some success. I will say his nymphs, while a little stranger looking than what I considered normal and tied with huge barbell eyes, at least were made of hair and feathers for the most part. After a couple of drifts through the pool I had a hookup and was playing the fish, but....yep-long distance release. At this point Trevor earned his tip by asking why I was trying to horse each fish in immediately. I explained that I try and get the fish in as quick as possible and it it's a big enough fish I learn it soon enough and play it differently. He suggested I let the fish, regardless of size run a little then bring them in. I said would try it and that is what I did with the next hookup, and I landed the fish. As I was about to cast again, I think we both noticed the mayflies and the rises about the same time. A PMD hatch was coming off so I gave the caddy, er guide, the five weight took my reconfigured three weight. I looked at the flies, gone were the ant and attractors replaced with a size 14 something made of foam and a yarn parachute. He called it a PMD, and his the guid so I cast it. I cast it again, And I cast it again with fish rising and bugs flying but no hookups. He changed the fly to another thing with basically the same makeup. First thing I noticed is the damn things were sinking after the first or second drift even though he was liberally applying the floatant. But this went on for what seemed like an eternity, and six fly changes. Finally he said something, "maybe they're keying on emergers" or the "drift wasn't right". And the **** kept referring to me as Mr. Knight inspite of my protests to the contrary. Having had enough I snipped his sixth fly off and as he asked what I was doing tied on three feet of 4X and reached into my vest for a fly box. I grabbed what I call a pmd pattern, in this case a size 16. It's a relatively simple tie, I use a small amount of cream dubbing (I don't pay attention to the animal type, I have a mishmash of various textures), a few moose hairs for a tail, a brown hackle wrapped parachute style around a calf hair post. He continued to protest a bit when, rather than pointing out that his flies had done nothing so far, I made the statement that every fly fisherman who ties want to fish his own fly. I used a spray type floatant and false cast a few times to let it dry. I had looked when I started false casting and he appeared to be somewhat sulking but wtf, I was writing the check and paying the tip. Funny thing happened i cast the fly into the vicinity of what appeared to be a decent rise when I heard "Oh ****" then I saw the biggest cutthroat I had ever seen, not that I have seen many, making like a porpoise attacking my little fly. The fish took and using his suggestion, i let it run a little before playing it on the reel, and landed a 16-17" brightly colored cutt. Man I wish I had that camera! He had come down and even he was smiling. I cast that fly into that pool five more times and landed four fish in the 10-14" range. So much for emergers and bad drifts eh? Finally the hatch petered out and we decided to move on and grab lunch. We found a campground to eat and I asked him what he was told about the trip. He let on that he was a last minute replacement and he was supposed be in the shop that day but the guy who was to guide me called in. He was never briefed in what I wanted. I assumed he knew that I wanted to be shown water, maybe have flaws in my delivery and other techniques noted and corrections suggested, and given suggestions as to flies to match any unknown history. Otherwise fill me in on the history or fables of the area and let me do my thing. This guy usually got the newbies for his teaching skill and assumed i was fully rather than only somewhat incompetent. We were discussing patterns and such on the river when we went on down the road to continue fishing. By this time it was probably 1pm, while I had him for the whole day my wife was peacefully reading in the truck. As we headed out towards his next hole, we came around a bend with about a 200 yard stretch of just about every type of trout water one could find. Long pocket runs dropping into deep dark pools with sweepers and smaller instream boulders creating wonderful looking seams. I asked him to stop there and he started to protest that his hole was around the bend. I suggested we fish this stretch up to his pool, I could see him ponder a minute before agreeing to it. We got out at the base and walked back to the base of the stretch and started casting my pmd to the riffles. I took a few fish in this manner and came to the first boulder influenced run. He handed me the five weight and I declined and told him to fish it. He looked at me strange and I explained that I was having fun with my three weight and he could follow me around like a caddy and carry the damn thing or he could use the opportunity to find new water for future clients and that all he had to do was to keep me from doing something stupid or dangerous around the deep runs. For the next four hours we fished this stretch up through his honey hole and beyond. To be fair, his honey hole was a honey of a hole and gave up several cutts. We'd take turns dry flying or nymphing the pocket waters, turbulent runs and the deep holes. I think we hooked about the same number of fish tho he tended to nymph more and catch a the bigger fish, none were as big as the one I took earlier. I would forget to let them run at times and execute a long distance release. But it was fun, relaxing, and whether he was sincere or not, he stated that "maybe I should have been guiding him", I thanked him for the complement and I'm sure I must have had a big **** eating grin on. When we finally had fished the stretch, the honey hole and the stretch beyond that, I called it quits even though I was technically paying to fish until sunset but Renee had been a good camper in the truck all day and this was one of the best gifts she could have given me. He took us back a different route though some of the most rugged and beautiful country one could ever expect to see from an auto and my wife got to see wildlife she had never got to see outside of a zoo. I think, or at least hope that maybe she begins the see what I see in getting out of the subdivision and out of cell range from time to time. We exchanged various flies, especially my pmd tie g. As I was putting stuff in my gear bag he saw the box of hex imitations I use in Michigan and asked about it. I described the night fishing and then pulled one of the big spinner imitations out for him and his jaw dropped. We've exchanged info and he says he's coming out to fish with me next June, we'll see but he did ask me to come back as a fishing partner and not a client when I could get back that way. I think I will. Wayne And fwiw, the TSA and the airlines allowed the rods as carry on during the return on the 19th. nice story. thankyou. chemo wasabi |
#7
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TR-The Inland Northwest II-or-Age, Guile, Fur and Feathers Beat a Bad Haircut and Foam Flies Wrapped with Yarn
"Wolfgang" wrote in message ... ...We found a campground to eat.... Blech! O.k., note to self: Wayne does NOT participate in menu planning in da Yoop! tasted better than olives |
#8
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TR-The Inland Northwest II-or-Age, Guile, Fur and Feathers Beat a Bad Haircut and Foam Flies Wrapped with Yarn
"Wayne Knight" wrote ... snip great TR Thanks for sharing the fun... Dan |
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