"...When we last saw our intrepid hero he was making his way down to a canyon containing a creek feeding the Escalante River..."
Yeah... so there I was carefully making my way down to the bottom of the canyon expecting a bit of a struggle to get there, maybe getting rimmed out a little or expecting a hundred foot pourover to keep me from the bottom, but It was really pretty straightforward- though I forgot the camera so...yeah...
I switched the boots for sandals an pulled out the flyrod- and spooked the first fish I saw...
I remind myself it's important to slow down in situations like this, and remember even on a mission, you should take it easy and enjoy yourself- I just walked along for awhile enjoying the canyon, I saw a rattler, (and left it alone- like a good boy..) and inventoried the botany( grasses, sedges,box elder, narrow leaf willow, single leaf ash, wild rose, artemesia, cattails and the usual cacti and rabbit brush a little further off the water...)
I see several good pools as I get into the flow, and make a few casts at the trout feeding obliviously in the clear water- I get a couple of strikes in a couple of casts, but most of the fish scatter as the lines shadow falls on the water- the first brought to hand is a brookie, thin and rightfully so- it's hard country for trout, too damn hot and dry..I'm half sitting, half standing on a near vertical canyon wall curving upstream to my right, and make a cast or two following that curve into the pool above to keep out of sight of the fish in it- one of the casts snags a shrub, and as I pull the leader off the snag, something darts from the bush and I see a little blue bellied lizard eat the fly at the end. Fortunately he doesn't like the flavor of elk hair and chicken feathers as much as real caddis flies, and spits it out saving me the trouble of reptile surgery...
As I walk and fish I find several spots where much of the creek has nearly disappeared into eroded channels of the bedrock sandstone, in some places mere inches wide- curious, I lob a cast into the current and sure enough, its immediately jumped by a trout- a decent trout too- well in the 12-14 inch range.
I wander over to the next creek up, a longer walk and find the going a little tougher, I have to cross a sizable steep ridge between the drainages, and the next canyon offers more of a technical challenge to get into- there are several places where I have to backtrack and climb (throwing my flyrod onto the next terrace ahead to use both hands..), but overall not too tough.
This canyon is a near twin of the other, with a bit more water, and perhaps narrower, I again catch a few fish, and scare something large.(probably a deer- though I secretly hope for cougar...) As I begin the climb back to the truck, I note that the sun is getting well past the midday mark in the sky and I want to camp in the high country tonight.
I'm pretty done in when I get back to the truck. and sweaty- I'm pretty sure that I can smell my own ass sweat...not unusual, but it usually doesn't happen the same day of my last shower. I whore bathe as well as I can, SR 12 offering little privacy, I crouch behind the pickup and wash,wondering what the tourists will think if they see me with both hands and a wet bandanna down my shorts...To hell with'em I live here goddamnit...
I begin the drive to Escalante and up Hells Backbone...And, as happens in these situations, I realize I'm still wearing my keffiyeh ( the arab headscarf so handy in the desert.. I dyed one of mine a redrock pink/orange/tan, you never know when you need a little camo...) and I realize this because several vehicles have passed by, staring like I - Well, like I was a Arab...in southern Utah...Well whatever, I have my papers- and I'm obviously caucasian under the fabric and sunglasses...I still take the thing off before town though...one tries not to stir up the natives...
Gassing up in Escalante I realize the coffee is as good as I've ever tasted in a gas station- I think the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument is improving things here - whether the local folks want to admit it or not ...On that same note I noticed that the owner of the ranchhouse with the vaguely threatening anti SUWA ( Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance) sign on the fence has at least cooled down enough to take the thing down...too bad- as a card carrying SUWA member- I've counted on that sign to validate my existence-plus it adds character to the town...
The plan was to hike around a bit and fish a couple of the lakes on top of the Boulder, however - I only fished one for an hour or so (out of my float tube- it was pretty weedy on the perimeter and casting from shore would have been fruitless, I caught a half dozen or so brookies and two cutthroat- one of which was probably the biggest fish of the trip at about 15-16 inches, measured against the length of my 5 weight rod...
It started getting dark so I started packing up, having confirmed there really was a forest service campground a bit down the four-wheel road I had come in on. When I arrived I realized I needed money...It was a pay to camp area, and though I wasn't broke, all my money was digital -Ihad only my debit card and two wet one dollar bills....I've done this before and swore I'd never let it happen again...Normally I'd just find a secluded spot off the road and bed down, but I was in a pretty steep forested canyon, and getting the truck off the road would be a trick, and I didn't know whether camping in undesignated areas was even allowed...
So I started driving like a bat out of hell down canyon to Escalante to find an ATM or a pull out that looked like I could "sneak-a camp" without getting busted (by the campground concession owners- I haven't ever been bothered by Rangers in National Forest areas but the camp concessionaires are fucking ruthless!...). Near the bottom of the road, nearly to town, I saw a trailhead to a popular hike in the GSE National Monument and having been there before, turned off the headlights, zipped up the sandy quarter mile road( never drive slow in sand- that's how you get stuck...I could be wrong, but it works for me...) to the parking area, turned off the engine and camp was made. There was one car there from Kansas, my snooping in the trail register assured me that Mr. KS wouldn't be back tonight(long trail. he was staying a few days...) I started the backpack stove, opened the soupcan, dumped in the dehydrated mashed potatoes, and while the whole thing heated up on the tailgate I grabbed a light rod and walked over to the creek and caught a nice desert of two brook trout with pepper, dandelion leaves and butter....
The night was uneventful, I simply rinsed out the aluminum stove case that I use as a cookpot (and shovel, and water can , and anything else that I can use it for, being a permanent fixture in the truck...), swallowed the last of my aperetif-ic PBR, rolled the stinkbag out in the pickup bed, and slept til the first hint of light in the east woke me.
I had a carrot and kippers for breakfast and- I know, I know...It's getting old- but I really did, again- "walk up the creek , caught a couple of trout in a beautiful desert canyon", while coffee brewed on the tailgate, drove back to town and had good coffee from the same gas I stopped in yesterday while I gassed up, and rolled ninety odd miles back the way I came to see if I could find any public access to the Fremont river...
...And I didn't..I just didn't find anyplace that looked"public" to fish the Fremont river, up higher on the Fremont I guess maybe I did, but the last few days had been a little rainy and overcast and the river looked muddy and - more importantly, "unfishy"...It isn't logical, but I wasn't getting the idea that it was a great fishing day on the Fremont- coupled with the fact that I was unsure of the public/private status- and with the recent hoopla regarding HB141( this state law that's passed that makes it a big no-no for public fishermen to fish for public trout, in public water...that passes through PRIVATE land...) so I kept driving up- and that meant locking hubs and putting the truck in four and I soon found myself up near Fish Lake- a different mountain range for hell's sake!..I found a little meadow stream that was a third order tributary to the Fremont River- so technically I was fishing the water I meant to ( Heraclitus' argument notwithstanding- he didn't have a four wheel drive pickup...) . I can't resist a meadow stream- even though I knew what I was in for - more brook trout..I am not complaining- but It isn't like one of those articles by big name fishing writers where they catch a hundred different trout as long as your arm -some of which are even brook trout - which never happened to me except once in the Uinta's when I caught a big old kype jawed brook trout in a stream that you'd have to stretch to call a creek...
And I started fishing it, and caught fish- brook trout .... I guess it took some time to get there though, I had to figure out that there being no structure in this flat bottomed stream , the fish had no cover- except the banks...and the water being so clear and flat, I had to get low. on my knees, I cast side arm, making long casts, staying as much as possible out of sight of where I was fishing- and then I began to catch the little fella's. The bugs on the water were almost all midges but I had on an olive Elk Hair Caddis, so my guess at the time was they weren't particularly selective, then I noticed that that there was a sparse hatch of caddis coming off- one or two bugs every few minutes, and that they were caddis about a size bigger than I had on so I caught a natural out of the air and it was tan. I switched flies and the catching picked up some. I also discovered that for an even better presentation I could use an old trick that you don't get to use much around here because most waters are brushy banked, but on a grassy banked stream like this one you can cast the fly to the grass, and pull it onto the water closer to the edge than you can cast it....all this time the clouds had been building, and this being 10,00 feet i didn't give it much attention, mountains cause their own weather and rain is expected most days, and last weekend in the Uinta's at about this elevation it snowed on me and the guys I was with- on the fourth of July. But I DID take notice when the thunder started- I'm carrying a lightning rod in the middle of a meadow where I'm the tallest thing...I head back to the truck and begin to fire up the stove.
I want to give the weather a chance to pass- this is good fishing- long casts, spooky fish small stream...good stuff....quickly-though not to quickly I suppose, it takes several minutes because I manage to get the pot filled and coffee on the stove , but a big rain started and as I huddled under the hatch of the camper shell, it starts hailing....Much of the truck contents are quickly soaked, including the one thing I worried about keeping dry- the sleeping bag....but as I predicted, it was over before I finished my coffee. The sun slowly came out and I dried the stuff in the truck in the sun, while I clean out the bed and wad some kippers and carrots down my craw...
When the danger of electrocution passes I'm back on the water- still catching fish, but I have a fishermans hunch that I'm missing part of the puzzle...A few minutes later I get a clue when I see a few mayflies over the stream - they aren't close enough to identify , but I think they could be big-that's good, as bigger bugs mean bigger meals for the trout, soon I see a mayfly emerging from its nymphal shuck on the stream- and uncharacteristically, making quite a noise, as it drifts toward me I recognize it as a "cripple"- a mayfly that can't quite get out of the skin it wore as a nymph in its aquatic life stage...I also notice that its big- a full one inch long and as I reach for it to get a better look I recognize the insect, and start noticing increasing numbers of them coming of the water, while at the same time I see the fish are moving into the current and taking their meals with slashing, splashy rises- they're on the bug I'm holding- the famous Green Drake- well known all over the west, but we don't often get to fish them in Utah , they usually hatch during the spring runoff, and the cloudy high water keeps the hatch from being much an event here as it is in Yellowstone or Idaho...But here it is, and it's on- I've carried Green Drake flies for years and rarely get to use them, but I soon had one on the line, and a fish on the fly- and that was the remainder of my day- fish after fish. An embarrassment of riches. I fished until it was dark- full dark. and quickly decided to go home- now , tonight. I wasn't going to get any better than this and I could get the lawn mowed or something tomorrow if i went home early...I drove the three hundred miles and through two detours on I-15 before arriving at 1 am- and slept like a baby , with a sore shoulder from casting. Who am I to complain though?... While putting away the gear Sunday morning I pulled the drake off my leader - it's hardly recognizable as an imitation of the natural insect-after being chewed by countless fish, but I tied it myself -possibly years ago, at least several months ago( the last batch of Green Drakes I tied was this winter...) and tied for no other reason than hope , and that hope paid this time...
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