Rice Lake, Ontario

After a 3 year hiatus I am going to make an attempt to backfill my trips with abbreviated entries, starting with our recent trip walleye fishing in Ontario.  This year we had eight guys, so the challenge was to find a new outfitter and a new lake with adequate space to accommodate our large group.  Rice Lake turned out to be a good choice.  The Ivanhoe River Inn is located at the fly-out and run by the outfitter.  George and Jeanne are very personable and run an efficient operation.  The cabin on Rice had comfortable beds, a well stocked kitchen, great generator, and good boats and motors.  The lake is large, with lots of bays and islands.  We only covered about a third of the water in our 4 days of fishing.  I thought the fishing was very good for the month of August, with walleye the predominant species, but with good pike and perch options as well.  The pike were hefty for their size (mid 30's) and better than average fighters.  It would be fun to try for pike with a fly rod here in late spring.

This trip was unique in that we prepared only one deep fried walleye meal.  The other meals included excellent pan sautéd fillets by Jon Merchant, Ecuadorian ceviche, grilled parmesan walleye, and a fabulous fish chowder prepared by Gene Smary.  Everyone agreed the variation was an improvement, although fresh walleye prepared just about any way is always good.

On our last two nights we were treated to an amazing star show, with the Milky Way extending across the entire sky.  That alone made the trip.

                                                    View from the dock at Rice Lake
                                     
                                         Outfitter - Air Ivanhoe, George & Jeanne Theriault

                                           Location - Foleyet, 50 miles east of Chapleau

Green River - Dutch John, Utah

I have Kickstarter to thank for this trip.  The request for funding involved the development of a nifty way to remove the reel from a fly rod for casting, but then reattach it when fighting a fish.  The attorney turned entrepreneur who invented this rather odd but intriguing devise is Rex Huang.  In exchange for a pledge to help launch the product he called REXFLY he was offering a guided trip on the famous Green River.  I took the bait, and a few months later received one of his early models to try out (more on that later).

For his part of the deal Rex suggested we try the BWO hatch in early spring.  I booked a Delta flight from Grand Rapids to Salt Lake City with a short layover in Minneapolis.  Rented a car and pointed it east toward the mountains and before long I found myself in Wyoming which prompted a stop to make sure I hadn't strayed off course.  As it turns out, interstate 80 drifts north into Wyoming, crossing the Green River at the town of Green River where the river begins forming the incredibly long Flaming Gorge Reservoir to the south into Utah.  It was sunny with the occasional light snow squall that quickly passed.

After a few hours on the road I made a pit stop at the nearly empty Little America motel/restaurant/trinket shop - a good example of the not-so-modern American tourist trap.  As I was about to leave I noticed that some of the cars in the parking lot were wearing coats of ice and snow.  One of the travelers suggested that if I was heading east I should turn around and go back to Salt Lake as 80 was closed with high winds and drifting snow.  After several inquiries I was able to determine that the interstate was open to a point just beyond my exit to highway 191 south.  So I pushed on, my enthusiasm dusted with apprehension.

It was a relief to start heading south at the 191 exit even as the blowing snow intensified.  By the time I reached Little Firehole Overlook the Flaming Gorge Scenic Byway had become a whiteout and the whole experience was beginning to feel a bit dicey.  This is big sky country with vast sweeping ridges and deep depressions - and no guard rails!  I stopped at the Clay Basin Overlook about two-thirds of the way down the gorge to admire the spectacular array of weather across the endless landscape.  A tour bus went zipping by seemingly oblivious to the foul weather - the only vehicle I would see though oddly comforting.

It was late afternoon by the time I reached Dutch John near the Flaming Gorge Dam and Rex had already been out fishing in spite of the weather, and much to my surprise he said the fishing had been good.  After checking into our micro-cabin (see photo below) and unpacking, Rex asked if I would like to get a few hours of fishing in before dark.  We could wade the river near tomorrow's takeout.  I hadn't come this far to let a little snow get in the way so I suited up and Rex led me to the river.  Sure enough, there were schools of fish feeding in the shallows and while the wind made casting nearly impossible I managed to catch a few nice trout before heading over to the Flaming Gorge Resort for dinner.  Fishing Blue Wing Olives on the Green was going to be interesting.


We awoke the next morning to a bluebird day.  A chilly morning would give way to a warm afternoon so we layered on the clothing and headed upstream to a put-in just below the dam.  There were several guide boats prepping for the days float as we arrived but we would see little of them or anyone else until we neared the takeout where the locals were taking advantage of the ideal conditions and easy access.

Our float paralleled the Little Hole National Recreational Trail that is packed with hikers in the summer but now deserted.  I pitched streamers for most of the morning with some success until the hatch emerged starting in late morning and reaching near blanket coverage in some sections by late afternoon.  Two facts stand out.  First, this is a major hatch of small bugs exceeding anything I've experienced in the mid-west.  Second, the Green is every bit as good as its reputation - for both its natural beauty and fishery.  

Rex was a great host and excellent guide.  He was also a master at using the Rexfly outfit, and anyone observing him in action wanted one.  For my part I stubbornly cling to my old ways in spite of its obvious benefits.  Yet when I plan on streamer fishing from a drift boat all day I take it along and readily switch to it as my arm tires.  And it is a must have when I'm in my one man float boat where handling a pair of oars and a rod can be tricky.  Let Rex give you a demo...


Rexfly Demo
     
We got off the river late afternoon, and after consulting with the attendant at the local filling station I decided to drive back along the western side of Flaming Gorge following highway 44, with a side trip through the Sheep Creek Geological Loop before returning to Green River where I would spend the night at the Hampton Inn.  Partway into the Loop I encountered my first "Closed for the Season" sign which I ignored.  Further down the road I was greeted with another sign and barricade, and the sudden realization that I was deep into the outback at nightfall with no food or water and no one had a clue where I was.  With a heightened sense of urgency I turned around and sped across the endless rolling hills of the high plateau passing signs for Anvil Draw, Brinnegars Crossing, and Firehole Canyon.

I woke late the next morning and headed back down 80 toward Salt Lake where I would spend the night before flying home.  It was a beautiful sunny day and by mid-afternoon I hit Park City and a sudden urge to ski.  I wasn't prepared for skiing and would have to use my fishing outfit but I assumed that would be nothing new in this part of the country.  Unfortunately by the time I got to the ticket booth the slopes had just closed.  So I did next best thing and found a pub with a rooftop bar and enjoyed a local brew with a view of the mountain, vowing to come back again soon.




A blanket of Blue Winged Olives on the Green

Itinerary and Notes:

Dates:  April 13 - 16, 2014

Flights: Delta Airlines through Minneapolis to Salt Lake City.

Accommodations:
     Flaming Gorge Recreational Services, Mini Cabin
     Hampton Inn, Green River, Wyoming
     Hilton Garden Inn, Salt Lake City

Dining:
     Flaming Gorge Resort in Dutch John
     The Lounge at Wild Horse Canyon in Green River

Guide:  Rex Huang

Fishing:  Blue-winged Olive hatch, catching rainbows, cut bows, and browns.  Best daytime hatch I've experienced.

Flies:  Befus Emerger, Griffiths Gnat, Disco Midges in red and black.

Elk River, British Columbia

Tom Whalen and I met in Spokane a few days early on our way to fish the Kootenai River in Montana - this year's annual summer fishing destination for our "Ontario" group.  On the advise of our outfitter we headed to the Elk River in Fernie, BC.  The Elk is a tributary of the Kootenai, famous for its resident bull trout.  Unlike the western US where bull trout cannot be legally targeted, the Canadians have no such restriction.  The Elk flows into the Kootenai just north of the border before entering Montana.

Our departure from Spokane was interrupted by a baggage snafu so we didn't arrive in Fernie until well after dark.  Our destination was Island Lake Lodge, a catskiing resort nestled among the magnificent peaks of Mount Baldy's Lizard Range in the BC Rocky Mountains.  This is a relatively small lodge with fine dining and nicely furnished guest rooms located in several smaller outbuildings surrounding the main lodge.  We stayed in the Red Eagle and awoke the next morning to beautiful vistas as we ate with the other guests in the main lodge.  After breakfast we walked down to Island Lake which is the trailhead for hikers staying at the lodge.  The short climb back reminded us that fisherman are generally not in the best of shape.  We drove down the mountain past the majestic old growth cedars that had welcomed us up the mountain the night before and on to the town of Fernie and the Elk River Guiding Company.  Fernie is a destination playground for Vancouver, providing great skiing in the winter and a robust fishery in summer along with hiking, biking, and kayaking.

We quickly learned two things.  First, there are a lot of guide services operating here as main street is lined with drift boats, and second, the Elk had a major blowout in the spring and it would be a long time before the river fully recovered.  Our fishing destination for the day was Byron Creek - a tributary of the Elk.  The Guiding Company recommended it as easy to find with plenty of good access and generally good fishing.  There is something very satisfying about venturing to new territory unguided and this was no exception.   Satisfied with the excursion, we returned to the lodge for a gourmet meal and made the decision then and there to book an extra night.  We would drive straight through to Libby rather than finding a motel of unknown quality somewhere along the way.

Our guide on Friday to float the Elk was Aubrey Neufeld.  In spite of less than optimum fishing conditions Aubrey worked the water hard, put us on to some nice fish, and provided plenty of local lore.  I managed to catch my first bull trout.

On Saturday morning we packed up and headed for Libby by way of Eureka where we did some shopping and I was introduced to Hatie's Homemade Huckleberry Jam.  Yum!

Patagonia Revisited - Arroyo Verde

This is my second trip to this fishing paradise, which offers an unparalleled combination of great weather, superb food and drink, beautiful mountains and valleys with pristine rivers, all generously shared by the Argentinians.  In fact I enjoyed nearly everything about my first trip except getting there, which is about as far away from home going south as you can get.  For this trip I would leave Grand Rapids at ten in the morning and arrived in Bariloche 25 hours later.  With layovers in Detroit, Miami, and Buenos Aires, it would take a few hours more before my travel companion Tom Whalen and I arrived at our first lodge - the Arroyo Verde.

We had spent a few enjoyable days at this ranch on our last visit, a packaged trip put together by Hawkins Outfitters.  We decided to create our own itinerary this time, one that would give us more flexibility and an opportunity to experience a greater slice of the landscape and its people, even if it meant less time fishing.  This is not a knock on using an outfitter, it's just that when you are alone in a foreign land your senses are far more active without an outfitter to rely on.

Estancia Arroyo Verde

Our first stop is located along the Rio Traful between Traful Lake and the legendary Rio Limay.  The Arroyo Verde offers a unique glimpse into Argentina's past when vast tracts of land were owned by single families, operated as large working ranches that controlled much of the pampas well into the eastern slopes of the Andes - families that now struggle to keep the ranches their government long ago encouraged to ward off those pesky Chilean invaders.   In the case of the Rio Traful two brothers originally acquired the land for nearly the length of the river, establishing La Primavera on one side and Arroyo Verde on the other.  La Primavera is now owned by Ted Turner, while the original family holds onto Arroyo Verde by operating it as a guest ranch.  Our host Meme Lariviere and her daughters, the real life version of Ben Cartwright and his sons in the TV series Bonanza, watch over the ranch while treating their guests like family.  Every destination has its memorable moments and Meme's ranch certainly delivered its share.

As we rode up the valley toward the ranch it something seemed strangely different about the landscape.  It was as if a grey filter had been placed over everything, as if that long flight from Miami had taken us to the moon instead of Argentina.  Marcelo, our driver and fishing guide for the next 3 days, explained that volcanic ash had rained down on the area last year from nearby Chilean volcano Puyehue.  To make matters even worse it has been unusually hot and dry ever since, with little snow and rain to wash away the ash.  Dust storms are now menacing whenever the wind picks up, which on the eastern slopes of the Andes is nearly every day.  How had this affected the fishing we wondered?  Marcelo offered a somewhat guarded response.  The Traful was running too low and warm for the trout that were no doubt escaping up into the deep headwaters of the glacial lake or to the deeper pools of the much larger Rio Limay downstream.  There was concern that the ash sediment in the lakes would have a devastating effect on the always fragile ecosystem.  With this troubling news we drove into the lush green ranch compound, mirage like compared to its surroundings.  The Lariviere girls had worked harder than we could have imagined to keep their ranch open and presentable.

 Late morning at La Boca in a dust storm.

Tough fishing but we caught a few.

I had two requests for this return trip.  I wanted to go back to the picturesque boca, with the gin clear water of the river's source, Lago Traful.  It was there three years ago with mid-morning sun shimmering over the rocky shallows that we site fished landlocked atlantic salmon.  The fish were small but aggressive and a thrill to catch.  This day started out much the same, but by mid-morning as we waded up the river to the headwater the winds picked up and the blue sky disappeared under a fog of ash.  It felt like night fishing without the fish.  Later when the dust settled and a beautiful sunny day reemerged our hosts took us to a guest cabin they maintain on the lake, but the view didn't compare to the vantage point at La Boca.  There are few places on earth as beautiful.

My second request was to enjoy another traditional Argentine asado.  There were not enough guests to warrant the considerable effort that goes into a barbecue so Meme decided to make it a family affair, inviting members from near and far in what became a celebration of the family and a well deserved respite from the turmoil created by Puyehue.  Tom and I, along with two British journalists who were also guests, had not only a culinary treat but also a rare glimpse into a vanishing way of life.  As the meal ends we share a cup of Yerba Mate with our host, served in a traditional gourd cup.  Marcelo suggests that during our siesta he will walk the river hoping to site a large trout for us to try later.

Tom and Meme on the left deep in conversation.

Marcelo returned later that afternoon with news that he had indeed located not one, but two very big trout holding in fast water.  This was our chance at a lifetime fish.  We drove to our beat, opening and closing gates while following the dusty two track to a lower downstream section of the river.  Here the Traful charged through a canyon of large boulders as it raced toward its rendezvous with Rio Limay.  Staring down from the cliff at the dark shadow of a trout well over 30 inches Tom and I immediately came to the same conclusion: there was no way to get a streamer in front of it.  The canyon wall came straight down to the river on both sides.  At the bottom was a minefield of strewn boulders, some too enormous to climb over.   The only hope was a large flat stone protruding from the river some 20 yards or so upstream.  It required a roll cast to the far side of the river, followed quickly by stripping line off the reel so the current would carry the fly down steam and at just the right moment bringing the line tight and letting it swing across current, hopefully in front of our quarry.  With my longer rod and heavier line Tom suggested that I give it try.  So standing on the rock with Marcello high above on the ridge I began the casting sequence.  From where I stood I could see the fly as it moved through the water but not the trout as the sun reflected brightly off the turbulent water obscuring everything below surface.  Marcello would bark out instruction telling me when to stop feeding line.  Our first efforts failed.  So I changed flies, selecting an orange and white Tarpon fly only because it was the heaviest weighted fly in my box.  The fly behaved better this time, turning the curious trout as it sped by his lie.  What happened on my next cast is still a bit of a blur.  I remember Marcelo first yelling out that the drift was perfect and then screaming with excitement as he saw what I couldn't - the fish charging my fly.  My rod tip snapped down, went limp, then snapped down again with a tremendous jerk, and then nothing.  By now Marcelo was back down at the river's edge asking me what had happened.  I just didn't know.  Either I was late setting the hook, or hadn't set it at all, or had done everything right and still came up empty handed.  We climbed back up the canyon and walked the ridge upstream looking for fish number 2, with me taking up the rear still scratching my head.  Now it was Tom's turn.

We gathered ourselves and hiked a short way to our next target - another impressive brown with its broad shouldered frame moving effortlessly from side to side in a sliver of pocket water surrounded by turbulence.  At first glance it appeared to be an easier reach, but looking downstream it became abundantly clear that actually landing a fish here would require a goodly amount of skill and luck.  Particularly troubling were the array of boulders of all sizes just downstream from the lie.  Tom did not have the advantage of casting off a rock, but by hugging the edge in chest high water he was able to get within a manageable roll cast.  Again his fly of choice proved unsuccessful so I offered up my Tarpon fly (thanks to Ray Schmidt for giving me the fly).  Within a few more casts Tom was into a lifetime fish and the chase was on.  The burly brown headed straight down river, with Tom in hot pursuit as his reel screamed under the tension of peeling line.  Needless to say, the fish moved a lot faster than Tom encumbered as he was by boulders.  I'm talking boulders 8' tall in places, which at times required that Tom reluctantly hand his rod to Marcelo as he climbed and hurdled larger obstacles, only to find that Marcelo was just as reluctant to hand back the rod.  With time Tom seemed to take control of his fish that was tiring and now settled in a depression of softer water.  Marcelo readied his net and got into position as Tom applied a bit of pressure in an attempt to bring the fish to net, a maneuver that proved fateful as the trout came straight up out of the water, flipped over and broke off.  Game over.

Tom in hot pursuit

Anticipation, but trouble lurks.

Katmai National Park, Alaska - Moraine Creek

Manistee River

My son Brad & I had a very enjoyable time today on the Manistee with guide Ed McCoy.  While Ed cooked lunch we hiked up the hill to look at the High Bridge marker.  It's amazing that a structure like this was built across such a wide and high river valley in 1889 without much in the way of mechanical equipment. While the bridge was torn down in 1955, there is still evidence of the support structure on both sides of the river.

Late fall blast-n-cast

A redo of last year's fall fishing trip with Tom Whalen.  Started out Sunday afternoon on the main branch of the Pere Marquette's flies only section.  A gorgeous sunny day with plenty of fresh fish in the river and very few fisherman.  We fished until dusk and then headed up to Crystal Mountain to spend the night.  Early the next morning we met Ed McCoy for a day of guided fishing on the Big Manistee.  On his first drift Tom got a strike, and on the second drift he caught a big chrome beauty.  It was a cool cloudy day following a long stretch of sunny weather and the change had apparently made the steelhead active as we had good action throughout the day.  We then headed up to Boyne Falls, spending the evening with Eric and Sara.  Dinner at the Red Messa.  The next morning Eric and his trusty dog Willie took us out to the Jordan River valley for a morning hunt, flushing many grouse and woodcock, while bagging three of the woodcock.  All and all, a fantastic fall "blast & cast".

Au Sable

Fishless on the Au Sable.  That's the way it was, but none-the-less a great success and a memory to cherish for a lifetime.  Father.  Son.  Grandson.  Drift boat.  On the south branch of this storied river.  The photo of my 84 year old father standing knee deep in the cool flow of the sun drenched crystal water says it all.

Upper Manistee

Casted streamers all day with Ed McCoy.  Caught the small one early and then struggled all day for another strike.  Finally, just before dusk and 20 minutes from takeout I hooked and landed this very nice 21 inch brown, which of course saved the day.

Pere Marquette River

The path into the river hadn't been used in weeks and the river was at low flow and crystal clear after 5 days of sunshine and relatively warm weather.  There were very few steelhead in the river and no willing takers.  Guide boats reported slow activity for the day throughout the flies only section.  Evidence of spring emerging all about.  Nice day to be on the river.