Soft Water

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming, because it's frankly still hard to believe that for the past several weeks I have been fly fishing mid-elevation stillwaters in Utah.  During February.  No ice holes required.  As in casting a fly line and having its entirety land on liquid where there would normally be 14 inches of solid ice right now.

The Hell you say?  Well, in all past years of my lifetime you would be entirely correct in calling BS - but not THIS year.  Hungry trout have been tearing the chenille off my flies right down to the bare hook because no one has told them there's another month of Winter supposedly going on right now.



It has been butt-numbing cold at times, but this is OPEN WATER we are talking about.  The cure to cabin fever. 

Not only that but in the town of Circleville a guy named Mike, proprietor of Butch Cassidy's Hideout, makes something called a Hash Stack.  It's a conglomeration of hash brown potatoes, ham, sausage, bacon, and 2 eggs smothered in country gravy.  One eats this breakfast, and then fishes all day with  no additional nutrient requirements.

Early in the season I am giddy to fish and don't spend much time behind the lens. While rivers are certainly available all Winter long, stillwater trout on the fly at 6,500 feet in February... it's just unheard of.

Here's to places of extremes.  See you on the water.

Ice, Ice Baby

The Byrds’ song Turn Turn Turn indicates that to everything there is a season.

A time to cast…A time to retrieve…
A time for runs…A time to reel…
A time to catch…A time to release…
And a time to every game fish under Heaven.

In Utah the “changing of the seasons” is something that happens from one minute to the next. Early last week temperatures were in the 60s, which gave way to sustained winds of 60-80 MPH mid-week. The gale heaved great ice sheets off Otter Creek Reservoir, causing them to hammer into the shorelines like a microcosm of plate tectonics.

Friday brought a big snowstorm, and portions of our drive down to Otter Creek were on unplowed snowpack. When we arrived Saturday about 11:00 AM, the air temperature was 22° F and ice was clogging our rod guides. As the storm broke, blue sky began peeking through the clouds.

In between chipping ice off our rods and blowing on our blue fingers, we caught what we had come for: The rainbows of not-quite-Spring.

Occasionally Otter will yield up a steelhead-like fish from the deep. Cody landed a brute in the early going that turned out to be among the nicest fish of the trip.

After 6 hours of remaining half submerged in 37° water and losing all sensation below the duodenum, we sought refuge at the Butch Cassidy’s Hideout in Circleville. Oh what a brownie sundae they weave when first you practice nubbins to freeze.

All that is necessary for the triumph of anorexia is for good men to eat nothing.
--Me

For the rest of the story, make sure to check out JayMorr’s blog. He doubled over his 5-weight on some girthy ‘bows and provided great stories and company on the trip. Cheers mate!

Thanks for circling back around!