To The Green, NOT!!!

So I the plan was set. Dane, Addie, Laura, and myself were going to wake up at 5:30am on Sat April 12th and float the Green then return home latter that night. Everything was running perfect until Dane no showed, but that was alright we were still on our way. We were making great time until we got to the Daniels Hill from Death. We were almost to the summit when the Jeep which I had running at full RPMs started clicking. My first thought was SUCK the trany has had it, but as we rounded the courner to see the Berry patch. The clicking was more like a song from hell. We grudingly turned around and tried to make our way back home. The hole triped ended with the Jeep dying right at the top of the Daniels Summit Lodge. We pushed it to the lodge with the help of some nice men. Called Jeff (Dad) and he had a Larry's towing on the way with himself. We sat down and waited in the nice warm cabin while partaking of a nice country style breakfest. At least it was the ideal place to sit and wait while thinking about what the river would have been like and how perfect a day it would have been. I really felt bad for Addie (my little sister) she was so excited for her first chance to float down the Green. By 10 am we were back home in Vineyard, it was as if it was a new day and that all the trama was just a figment of a bad dream. With all this new found free time I could finally get some work done that I needed to. So instead of fishing for hungry trout on a pristine trout stream I was building an entertainment center for my materialistic side of life. I also fixed up my bike jump and hung out with my buddy Cash. So how do I catorgies this adventure trip?I would have to say it is somewhere in ballpark as worst ever or maybe just maybe, a blessing???

One thing that makes me feel better is that if we would have gone it wouldn't have been very good fishing anyway because they raised the flows from 800cfs to 1600cfs and it put down all the fish. At least that what the Utah on the fly guys said.

A Day To Learn

So on Thursday I felt like I was totally out of the loop of fly fishing. I didn't know where to go and frankly what the heck was going on. I hate that feeling, because to me that signals that I haven't been fishing enough to be very consistent. I had to redeem myself. I didn't have any plans set in stone for Saturday, so that was my plan find out what Liz was doing and try to work it in at all costs, and it worked! Liz wasn't really up to wanting to hit Sundance one last time and I think she could tell I was aiming to hit the river. You know the fishing fever attitude. So on Friday night after our little date night at Applebee's I went into my office and started tying BWO Emergers like a made man. As A River Runs through It came to an end, I could barley keep my eyes open and I knew I was going to be waking up in a few hours. I left the house at 8am and was on my way to the Middle Provo again. One thing I find interesting is the stress I put on myself to pick the spot I will start fishing from. With friends I can ask for some advise or input but when you are solo. It is a whole different story. The whole drive up the canyon and around Deer Creek I debated which area I would fish and what would be the best spot. If I turn gray I know part of that is due to picking spots to fish. So after much thought I ended up where I left off at the rail road tracks. I fished the morning with nymphs out of the big hole below the bridge and landed two nice browns. But then I did what I should have down more the last time I fished. Move around more. I started working my way up the river. But just like my new self I only made it to two different holes before it was time to get some lunch. Granted I caught quite a few fish in those to holes. It is funny I used to be a speed fishermen but now I find myself sitting and spending my time trying to figure out different kind of holes instead of just catching the dumb few fish out of every hole and moving on to the next. I really like to dissect each hole. fishing different depths and techniques until the hole is either fished out or until I have tried just about everything and I am bored with it. The rest of the days story is best told below. I did finally get the BWO hatch that I hoped for, and yes, I did feel very rejuvenated and back to my former proud self.

Summary of the day...Recording earlier with a different mind set...

In the life of a fly fisherman there are few things that rival the first spring Blue Wing Olive hatch. For me it signals the ending of cold weather and the mark warmth. This past Sat. with Liz's ok I packed up the Jeep and ventured to Midway in search of the elusive BWO's. The weather was perfect in a fly fisherman's eyes. It was wet, cold, and overcast. Perfect for BWO fishing! The day started off a little on the slow side with a few browns being netted here and there. By noon, I was about frozen to the bone and long awaiting the PB&J's I had packed. As I walked back to the Jeep along the old Heber creeper railway. I stopped and looked over the spring creek that I caught my very first fish on a fly rod. I couldn't help but think of the impact that day has had on my life. It's funny the fish was only 6 inches long and it was the only one I caught, but yet I was hooked for life. So as I gazed over the creek, I saw something that I was looking for the whole day, rising trout!!! The BWO Hatch was happening and I was in the right place at the right time. I love it when things work out the way you planned! I fished the creek and landed one little trout and that was enough. I needed warmth and food. After a quick lunch I switched locations to where the spring creek flows into the Provo, there the fish are larger and that is exactly what I was looking for. The rest of the day was magical. It is what I would consider as a great day on the river. I caught fish with Nymphs, Emergers, and my favorite Dry Flies. As my phone rang, I knew it was Liz and I knew I would soon have to come back to reality. As I looked at the clock it was 5:00pm, I had been on the river for 9hrs, lost in my own world. I raced down the canyon, got changed and made it just in time to still get the last remaining soft chair at Priesthood Conference.

BWO- Where, When, What, Why, How?

To some people I am considered a pretty good fly fisherman and to others I am just a crazy SOB who is obsessed with the idea of bugs, fish, poles, strings, and water. I don't know who I find myself drawn to more, as the expert I am constantly teaching and helping others learn and catch fish. Its almost like babysitting in a way. But as the fanatic I am left free and unbugged to fulfill my desire of whatever it is on that particular day. Today, I assumed the role of the expert. I was taking out two of my favorite co-workers(Dane, Chris) that I introduced to the sport last fall on the Price River. On the Price last November we had what is considered in my book an excellent day. For first time fly fishers they both landed over twenty fish each with one pushing the 18-20 inch class. (Beautiful male Brown) Since then they hadn't even touched their poles. But since I had been talking up the famous BWO Hatch on the Provo all winter. We all had had enough and decided that a trip had to be taken. We finally settled on Thursday, April 3rd. It was going to be perfect. The weather was projected as cloudy and a little rain or snow. We had made up excuses to tell our boss. (I wish I could just say fishing fever, it would feel better than my wife got sick) So I picked up Chris and Dane and we on the road by 8:30am on our way to the Middle Provo in search of Dry Flies. (Especially BWO) When we got to the river it was a ugly sunny day with a brisk north wind. I swear the weather forecast is never right when you want it to be. We finally got to the cliff area river bank where I had a killer day the last time I was on the river for the fall BWO hatch in Oct. As I glassed over the hole nothing was happening. So we went straight to the Nymphs. I just want to get this off my chest I HATE fly fishermen that don't understand the concept of "polly casting" When someone is in position to fish a hole it is their hole move on #!#!%...Today we had some old fart move right on top of our hole scaring all the fish away. I couldn't believe he could think he wasn't intruding. I came to the conclusion he must be a retard. So after getting feed up with the unwanted company I decided to find more friendly waters. We moved north to an ok spot cause all the others were taken. I will write about the over fishing of the Provo, but for now I will try and stay on the day. So as the expert I was starting to feel a little pressure to get these guys on some fish. I put them at an ok spot while I went up stream to explore other potential holes. My mind was racing to what I should do next. I was lost, the best holes were taken and it was dang windy, cold, blue sky and a hatch of midges or early BWO should have been coming off by now. But as I approached the boys. Dane set the hook. Fish On! It was a 14inch brown that Dane excitedly brought to the next. It was a huge relief. We moved locations to the train tracks which was the smartest decision I had made all day. The wind was calmer and right off the bat we were seeing signs of insect life. Then it happened as we sat along the river bank. I caught a glimpse of my first BWO of the year. I can't explain the joy it brought me. But all fly fishermen who have experienced this will know exactly what I'm talking about. We finally got into some fish as we moved into a big deep run just south of the tracks. Dane hooked up first with a nice brown and I followed shortly after with a little whittie and rainbow. This run produced the best action for us. We had other hook ups but couldn't bring them to the net. As the fishing started to tapper off we moved down stream to a well know hole where I had landed some nice rainbows in the past. To my surprise the hole had been completely reshaped due to a huge tree that had fallen right in the middle of the river. To my surprise I saw the perfect dry fly location right behind the tree roots. I stopped and watched impatiently for any sign of a rise, just as I was about the leave there it was a nice mouth broke the water and slurped up the limited BWO's on the surface. I tied on my go to outfit and went to work. My first 10 casts were frustrated due to the dang northern wind. Finally when I timed it just right I was able to make a cast that might get a rise. Just like a perfect mathematical solution the big fish came up slurped my fly in. Hooked up! It all happen so slowly I wasn't ready for the battle. The fish came right at me like a rocket. I tried to move out of the way but it was no use. He ran and never looked back. My 6X tippit was no match to the fish and the situation at hand. But I didn't care I had done it. I saw a rising trout and presented the right fly and got a hook up. That's what drives me now more that just catching a fish. I am driven by the challenge at hand. So as the day came to a close I hooked up one last time with a very nice brown right underneath the bridge. I don't no what happened exactly, but the event was just short of a miracle. I casted my Copper John Nymph and right when it hit the water I saw a fish jump and I was hooked up. The fight was great and ended with Dane blindly scooping my fish in the middle of the current. Remember Dane "Don't ever touch the line". So to end where I started today I was the expert in the eyes of my fishing partners but in all reality was far form that on this day. I guess its more than just catching fish that makes on an expert.

It Has Begun

So I have been thinking for quite some time about creating a blog with the purpose of reflexion on the great outdoors with an emphasis on fly fishing. I also want to document past and future trips that shouldn't be lost and forgotten. I might even throw in a weekly write up on my fly tying and stream side observations that seem interesting to me. This should be interesting considering that I am the worst writer in the world and my spelling is worst than a 1st grader.