News and Fishing Reports

The drive was different this time. Jeep packed full of fuel and gear I didn’t bother with directions, just pointed her West and hit the gas. Twenty hours flew by, and I found myself in the Rockies already dreaming of the fish and game that call these mountains home. This time however these mountains would only be a way point on my journey to Island Park, Idaho, where my summer will be spent hunting wary rainbows and browns on the storied Henry’s Fork of the Snake River.

The next leg of the trip, past the Rockies and over the Tetons of Wyoming, was filled with the excitement of the pursuit that lay ahead of me. Calling Idaho beautiful is similar to calling the Mona Lisa simply art. It is a gross understatement that inhibits the mind from understanding the significance of the experience. The Idaho landscape rolls endlessly; up and down snow capped mountains and lush green hills meet each other beneath a sky that is breathtakingly vast and ever changing. Between these peaks is water so pure and clear that once you step into it nothing else in the world matters. This water is rich. It holds within it something more valuable to me and the people here than any precious metal. It is what is in these lakes, streams and rivers that brought me here, and that brought others before me to this place. Here we find ourselves at home, in wild land, casting flies to a cold, wet creature more gorgeous than a fist full of diamonds.

Trout are a finicky fish. They live in the world’s most beautiful places, and like the residents of Island Park they seem to shun civilization as we know it. Instead they choose to live away from society where they can be left at peace to do as they please, to exist as they wish, unbridled by restrictive dams, irrigation systems, or toxic pollution. Trout here thrive, they grow big and strong and eat well in this cold water. And so today’s angler is provided with the ultimate fly rod challenge, catching massive fish on small dry flies in gin clear water. Such an adventure is few and far between these days, but I am now lucky to call the Henry’s Fork my home water, and I intend to make the very best of this experience.

My first day on the river was tough. Waking up early I walked to the river and saw nothing for hours. No bugs, no rises. I spent three hours making no more than five casts at what turned out to be weeds flowing in the current. Beaten but not broken I saddled up into town, stopping at my new place of business for a little help. The guys at Trout Hunter are wonderful, and made me feel like a part of their family instantly. I sipped a beer or three in the restaurant conversing with a couple guides about what was happening on the river while waiting for my good buddy Jon Lewis. He finally showed, and we hit the water.

Pinehaven is a small community, or suburb if you will, just South of Island Park, and it is where we will reside for the season. Jon and I, along with Paul a new chef at Trout Hunter, share a small house, lovingly dubbed the ‘brokeback trout shack,’ a minutes walk from the river itself. We put the boat in at the Pinehaven dock, cracked a couple more adult beverages, and waited for heads to start popping out of the water. They did, and our excitement was only contained by the frigid water itself for we were so eager to hold a fish we could have dove in after them.

I was first to bat. The five weight line shot through my guides as I cast a duet of caddis emergers above the rising fish. Feeding and mending line for what seemed like an eternity, our patience was rewarded when the fish rose one final time to take my fly. The water erupted, and the river’s silence was broken with our hollering in jubilation. Upstream he ran first, straight at us as I struggled to gain tension and pick up my slack line, jumping and twisting he broke the surface and glistened in the sunlight. Then he turned, and headed downstream. My tackle and tippett tested to its fullest in an attempt to turn him, he jumped one last time and spit my two hooks directly back at me, burying themselves in my shoulder straight through the shirt. The next few minutes were filled with laughter and my yelping as Jon unsuccessfully tried to dislodge the flies from my skin.

Freed at last, it was my turn on the oars and Jon's turn with the next unsuspecting rising fish. The loss of that trout affected us both, and the environment in the boat had changed, from a nonchalant evening of fishing to an intensely concentrated effort. That one fish had transformed us from simply fishermen to predators, hunting for the next trout. Satisfaction was no longer found in just being on the water, we had to boat a monster, and it took both our full efforts to do so. Some fly dressing and a few false casts later Jon had his flies drifting toward the nose of what would be our first Henry’s Fork rainbow of the season, and a fine fish it was. He ate without hesitance, and fought with resounding determination, but ultimately was no match for the desire we had of holding him. Finding him in the net we could finally breathe comfortably. He was a beautiful fish, healthy and long, chrome like a well polished Harley with a hint of red along his side. We took pictures and released him back into the cold water watching him swim freely from the boat. We rested for a second, congratulating each other with smiles on our faces, then saw another rising fish, and began rowing toward it.

We got off the water that night past dark and had each boated half a dozen big fish, all taken on the surface. It was an amazing end to what was previously a tough day, and will forever be burned into my memory as exactly what trout fishing is supposed to be. The past week we have fished constantly, only stopping to eat, drink and work, and have caught more fish than I could have even dreamed of on my drive out here. This river, cradled by the fertile Idaho hills, is a special place, put lightly, and the expectations I had for this summer have already come true. I can’t wait to see what happens next in this adventure.

Tyler Treece is what some in the business call the FNG in the shop. We have a hunch that he'll be around awhile. He is a prodigious angler and loves to talk fishing. Stop by the shop & introduce yourself to Tyler.