Green River Trip

The Green River, just across the Utah border and below the Flaming Gorge dam, is reputed to have more fish per mile than any other stream in North America. I see numbers as high as 15,000 "catchable" trout per mile for the seven or eight miles of river below the dam. The average sizes are 14 - 18 inches and there are browns, rainbows and less commonly, cutthroat trout. Browns and rainbows dominate with the brown trout perhaps holding a slight majority over rainbows. Most of the fish so clearly visible from the bank are browns; rainbows are still holding in the deeper runs in this pre-spawn period.

Garrett and I fished on Thursday and Friday. It's a bit less that four hours drive from Laramie and we were on the river at 11 having left town just before 7AM. Thursday we fished the upper section just below the dam. The trail down to the river from the upper parking lot is rather spectacular here. With a flow of around 750 cfs the river is wadeable and it is just barely possible for me to cross at certain points. The photo above shows a drift boat passing by as we walked down the trail to the river. We wade fish from the bank and I have never hired a guide. For me, figuring out the fishing is what it is about.

We hooked up with small midge patterns (size 22 gray bodied RS2's and WD40's were hot) and, although we were hoping for a hatch of blue winged olives (Baetis), we saw none. As the day warmed (to maybe around 55°F) the midge hatch came on stronger and some fish started rising so I switched to a dry fly. A size 22 thread midge with a wrap of hackle, no wings or tails, gray body. I did catch one nice brown on the dry fly and hooked up with two more that I did not land on the tiny drys. The water in the Green is just crystal clear and sight fishing is the norm. In almost any good spot you may see ten or more fish lined up along the bank. To sight fish to them you move into position to avoid unnatural drag on the fly from intervening currents and to get the best drift, and cast hoping not to put the fish down. If you have the wrong fly, it will not work. All of these fish have been caught many times each and are highly selective feeders. I caught eight to ten fish all between 13" - 16" and Garrett may have caught twice as many. Garrett fished subsurface midge patterns and caught more fish than I did but I do love to watch a trout rise and take a dry. He was fishing the edges of the deeper and faster runs and hooked up with more rainbows than browns. I concentrated on slower shallower water sight fishing to mostly brown trout. Reflecting on the days fishing I realized that the Baetis hatch was more likely further downstream where the icy water had a chance to warm a bit.

We spent the night in an overpriced room at the Flaming Gorge Resort (discounted winter rates) and ate dinner at the restaurant there sharing a table with a couple of fly fishermen from California. They'd fished the Provo before coming up to the Green and ran into heavy Baetis hatches there. Frank is the flyfishing guy at the Western Sport Shop in San Rafael. It is one of the last great mom and pop outdoor stores in the country with a nice selection of rifles, shotguns, top quality fishing equipment and a really nice selection of new, used and rare sporting books.


Friday morning we drove down to Little Hole parking lot which is seven miles downstream from the dam. Later in the season, this parking lot can get full but there were only three other cars there when we arrived around 9:30 or so. We walked past fish rising in the long flats up to where there is a bit of broken water. We started hooking up on the same gray bodied RS2's and WD40's. Garrett fished that same rig all day long and I believe he must have caught more fish than anyone else on the river that day. He must have caught 30 trout the largest being about 19" or 20" and most being 14" - 16". I caught only a third as many but concentrated on fishing the dry fly. It was a warmer day with temperatures as high as 60°F, though it chilled down when the clouds blocked the sun. Being Friday, there were a lot more fisherman out on the river.

Around 2PM I saw two Blue Winged Olives hatch and the fish got very active. I believe they were taking Baetis nymphs. Garrett was fishing a deeper run below a wide riffle and was catching fish one after another, still fishing his underwater rig with a pair of grey bodied midge imitations. Fishermen walking upstream along the trail on the east bank would stop and watch him. Throughout the day we only rarely saw other fishermen into a fish so his productivity was rather astounding. I finally gave up on the drys after pricking and missing a beautiful rainbow who came up for my crippled Blue Winged Olive pattern in a perfect porpoising rise.

There's nothing like success. I switched to Garrett's rig and started hooking up right away. Missed landing two fish and then landed a nice rainbow. We were near waist deep in the middle of the river and with both of us hooking up we started to attract other fishermen to the run with us. By now it was around 4PM and a second flotilla of drift boats was coming through so it was a socially active scene. I hooked to another rainbow and after a rather extended fight, this one swam between my legs and was holding up under a shelf on a large rock. Rod in one hand and net in the other he swam up and went back between my legs again and against the submerged rock. Trying to move away from the rock I stumbled and gently rolled backwards as I netted the trout. The water temperature was around 40°F. It flowed down over the back of my waders and the icy cold water running down my legs was rather stunning. I released the trout and waded out laughing and cursing. I haven't fallen in a river while fishing for about 14 years. Last time was mid-winter while steelhead fishing on the Salmon River in upstate NY fishing with Peter McDonald. Garrett and I walked back to the truck and dry clothes which were a bit less than a mile downstream It would have been just fine, but I did manage to briefly dunk my camera which now does not work.

Tying the Rusty Spinner

This pattern imitates the imago (adult) form of a number of mayfly species, many of these bugs end up a rusty reddish brown color in the final phase of their lifecycle. This particular one is tied on a TMC 100 dry fly hook in size 16. The thread is 6/0 unithread in Rusty Brown, the tails are light dun microfibbets, the wing is an off-white poly yarn and the dubbing is superfine dubbing in mahogany brown.

1. Wrap the hook with thread to form a base and then tie in the tails. To get them to stand up, build up a small bump of thread under then and then cinch them down. To separate them, tie them in with a figure eight, going between them and alternating wraps over them. These tails are a bit linger than the body, maybe too long, but it is a feature that it may not hurt to exaggerate a wee bit.



2. Tie in the wing material about 2/3 of the way up body, also using a figure eight wrap.


3. Using a bit of dubbing wax, spin a tiny pinch of dubbing on the tying thread.



4. Wrap a tapered body (this one is a bit uneven) and then whip finish the head. Trim the wings to length bu pulling them straight up and giving them a bit of a haircut. The wings on this one may be a bit too long but can be trimmed later or even stream side


This is a very useful pattern that should be in every flybox. One afternoon,  around mother's day 1991, I was fishing Cairn's pool on the Beaver Kill during an astoundingly prolific caddis hatch. Fish rising everywhere and I could not hook up at all, and neither could any of the other five or six fishermen standing the river to my left and right, upstream and down. There are some really large trout in that pool who, when bothered by the likes of me, feed in the main current which runs in a channel along the far bank. That's just about out of my casting range. Anyway, there were so many caddis moving upstream in the air that, at one point, I had a sensation of vertigo from the wall of right to left upstream movement in front of of me. I was balancing on a rock chest deep in the pool trying to cast to the the far bank without letting the water in over the top of my waders. I was, one at a time, trying every caddis pattern I had in my box. It was dusk and the frustration was palpable. Searching the box for an untried pattern, I looked down at the water not more than a foot below my nose and saw a Hendrickson spinner floating by. I stopped fishing and looked closer and sure enough, there was a steady stream of spent spinners floating by, nearly invisible with their transparent wings lying flat on the water. I pulled out a rusty spinner from my box and dropped on in the water next to a natural. I was stunned, I could hardly tell them apart. I tied one on and, with less than a half hour of light left, I caught three nice trout. The guy downstream from me, only about 20 yards away rather casually asked me what I was using. I was happy enough about figuring out the real hatch I happily told him and even gave him a fly when it turned out he did not have one in his box. This is a fundamental fly that should be in every flybox. It is a good imitation of the spinners of many species of mayflies.

Tying a Mercury Midge

The fly shown here is being tied on a TMC 2487 hook in size 24. The bead head is a Spirit River quicksilver glass bead in the extra small size. Thread is 8/0 Uni-Thread, the body is just a few hairs of white Angora goat and the ribbing is fine silver wire.

1. Put the bead on the hook and clamp it in the typing vise. This step is not as easy at it might seem, I need to wear a magnifying head piece like a jeweler might wear.



2. Wrap the hook back to near the bend with the white thread.



3. Tie in the silver wire and build up a bit of body with the thread.



4. I spin the tiniest bit of white dubbing on the thread and wrap forward, tying off the thread.



5. Wrap the wire ribbing forward, in the opposite direction of the thread wraps.



6. Tie off the wire and trim it off. Whip finish the head behind the bead. I use a Materelli whip finisher.

Jenny Lake Ski

We skied up to Jenny Lake along the base of the Tetons and back on the main trail. The weather started fantastic. By the time we reached the lake it had started to deteriorate. Clouds came in and the wind picked up significantly gusting to 30 MPH or so. By the route we traveled, the trip to the lake and back was about eight miles.



The parking lot was almost full when we arrived and filled up quickly while we geared up. There were a number of baby sleds (just visible in the right side of the photo above) being set up to tow babies on the groomed trail -- which pretty much looked like a highway.





With a population of just a hair over half a million people, Wyoming is geographically large but socially small. When we had just about reached the lake, we ran into Bronwyn and her husband. Bronwyn was at Art school with Penelope in San Francisco. This chance meeting four miles from the nearest road was a bit of a surprise.

Bronwyn and her husband skied back in the trees to avoid the wind. We'd skied out to the lake that way and so we returned to the parking lot on the main trail. The short video below shows Penelope skiing back to the truck in the weather. By the time we got out, the trail was quickly filling with windblown snow and the parking lot was nearly empty when we got there.

Snake River, Jackson Hole

Arrived in Jackson in the afternoon. Just enough time to walk around a bit and grab a bite before heading to the town ski trail along the Snake. The parking lot is on the east side of the bridge crossing the Snake river on the road to Wilson. It is a dog party place; We skied from about 4:30 until almost 6 and people were out in force on a warm evening walking their dogs. The trail has a track and is groomed for skate skiing too. Lots of joggers. Saw three moose. The ski up the river is just shy of two miles one way. Further up river is protected winter range for elk and moose.

When we arrived there were a couple of fly fishermen working the water on a little side stream of the snake just about the bridge. They said they were killing 'em on midges.

The Tetons are magnificent. Dave Pearson and I climbed the Grand Teton in 1993 (or was it 1992?) We arrived in Jackson in late June and there still was way too much snow. We had planned on doing the Direct Exum Ridge, but it was heavily iced and so we did the Owen Spalding route instead. At the Upper Saddle we ran into a guy who was soloing who asked if he could tag along on our rope, which we agreed to. Clouds were scudding by and as we exited the icy cracks to the summit they intensified. I lead up (still roped) to the summit first. And then I felt something on the top of my head, like some one gently scratching my scalp, but through my hat. And then I hear a bit of a humming sound. I realized that I was about to be hit bu lightening. I yelled down to Dave and Georgia I was coming down. I tossed the ice axe and rand down the snowfield off the top to a small rock ledge real quick, stacked some rope under me and crouched down. We were not hit and after the cloud passed we all three dashed to the summit. A few minutes later the same cloud passed over Mt Moran and let loose with many lightening strikes. We only stayed on the summit long enough to snap a photo and then got back down as fast a possible to avoid the next cloud which was approaching fast.


The Tetons are an amazing place.

Skiing Chimney Park again.

Six inches of new snow (finally) and it's still falling. We skied Chimney Park again today with the snow coming down. Bumped into Carlos and Teal in the parking lot. The video shows Carlos breaking trail. He passed us and disappeared into the falling snow. We only saw two other people besides him, Abby and her dog and an another woman we didn't recognize. After a while living here you start to get the feeling that you should know everyone you see.

We skied the Jelm loop, about 4 miles. Made a mistake at one point (forgetting the map seems to be standard procedure) and ended up coming back on our own tracks and missing what promises to be the best part of the loop. Next time.

The air temperature was, I guess, around 22°F. I waxed up about the middle half of the Tuas with Swix Extra Blue which proved to be too soft a wax and too much wax, I guess. I was OK to start, but as we skied farther along the trail they performed worse and worse. Little or no glide at all and occasional sticking. This can be pretty frustrating. We stopped and I scraped the bottom down and re-corked which made them a bit better, for a while. Then the sun came out for a while and the skis started picking up even more. I don't really know what was going on, seemed like the Blue should have been just the ticket, but I do not have a thermometer to measure snow temps, just looked at the outside thermometer before we left. The snow buildup on the bottom of the ski continued so I stopped again and scraped a bit more off and rubbed some glide wax on, things worked much better after that. Pen's skis were picking up some snow too. The moral of the story is that there may be an advantage to the waxless fish scale skis like the Rossignol Randonees Pen is skiing on, but the mystery of alchemy is not there with a waxless ski. For now, I'll stick with wax and play alchemist. Lesson learned: when in doubt, go with the harder kick wax.

Skiing Chimney Park

Penelope and I skied Chimney Park today in spring temperatures. There's a decent base of two to three feet and we skied the five mile Porter Loop.
Chimney Park is about six miles from the house, at much higher elevation and in the forest so, while the snow is pretty much gone down here in the sage country at around 7600 feet, there is still plenty of snow up at almost 9000 feet.

Our ski touring equipment is all 15 years old or more. Penelope is skiing on a pair of 200 cm Rossignol waxless skis with a fish scale pattern which do pretty well in the warm conditions. They have a beefy old Chouinard 3 pin binding and she is wearing leather Asolo Snowfield boots. I was on a (borrowed - thanks Joe) pair of Tuas that have a Rainey Superloop cable binding and I'm also wearing a beefy pair of Asolo leather boots. The Tuas were waxed with Swix Red Silver for the warm conditions. This worked incredibly well until the end of the loop when temps were up around 47° and the snow in sun was getting slushy. But by then the fishscales weren't doing that much better.

The trails are cut through some gently rolling country in Medicine Bow National Forest near Fox Park. This is lodge pole pine forest and it is just starting to get hit by the pine bark beetle. I expect that within a few years all the trees here will be dead. You can see some of the red/brown trees in the background of the photo of me on the trail.

The great thing about Laramie (as opposed to more popular and chic places in the mountain west) is that there are no people. Skiing midday on a holiday weekend, we ran into eight other skiers total. Of course, if you don;t want to see anyone, you are not restricted to the trails and can ski just about anywhere up there, but it is nice to not have to break trail, and easier for the dogs; we had Erdos with us (and Aldo was visiting too.) There is more spectacular skiing up in the Snowy Range but that is a 20 mile drive. We'll save that for after we've more firmly got our ski legs under us.

We saw a few squirrels and a rabbit. The elk and deer move down out of the forest onto their winter range which is more open. The moose don't seem to mind the snow and although we did not run into them, there is a cow moose and her calf living in the Chimney Park area whose fresh tracks and droppings are everywhere.

Skiing is an ancient mode of travel dating back to prehistoric times; men have been skiing for 6000 years. Moving through the forest on skis is very special. When conditions are right you glide over the snow and at moments seem to just fly.