Yellowstone National Park - 2015

[DarkShadow]

Ahh, good ole late September. Leaves start changing colors (not in LA), the Dodgers limp yet again towards another under achieving playoff run, and it is also signals the time when I make my now yearly pilgrimage to the fly fishermen's mecca, Yellowstone National Park.

Seeing that this wasn't my first rodeo, I was a bit familiar with the layout of the park and the area's major drainages, and which particular ones would be fishing well during the transitional stretch into Fall, and unlike last year, I'd be taking into account the travel time needed to go from each section to the next. In 2014, the entirety of our trip was spent in the Northeast, so this year we decided to change things up a bit and spent the first two days on the west side, in a cozy cabin in Kelly Galloup's Slide Inn, which is a stones throw away from Montana's famous Madison River.

Day One





We arrived at the Slide Inn around noon on Sunday, after a 15 hour non stop drive from LA the evening before. But, because the room wasn't ready, a 2 hour session on the Madison in the "Between the Lakes" section was made, which resulted in the dreaded skunk (apparently the browns haven't made their migration up from Quake yet), so the saner half decided to check in to our cabin early, and cozy up with her iPad and the WiFi on the porch overlooking the Madison, while I used this opportunity to venture out to see how on earth a trout could live in these whitewater conditions and hopefully getting one of them to eat one of my chicken feathers.

I can safely say that this section is definitely not for the individuals who need wading staffs to get around, and I don't say this so that people avoid this particularly stretch; I just don't want to be responsible for someone drowning. In fact, I spent the entire time on this stretch trying not to break my neck and drown, all the while completely frustrated at the fact I could not get any type of drift free cast due to the Class IV rapids that inhabit this stretch. The dozen current seams that make your fly line look like spaghetti on your initial cast makes it sure that if you don't know how to mend properly or throw a reach cast, you're going to struggle in this stretch. That is why most guides avoid this area and prefer the portions below Reynolds or 3 Dollar Bridge, which may be a bit more conducive to wading, since the river flattens out more downstream of those areas.

And, to add to the level of difficulty, I soon realized that "Matching the Hatch" loses all meaning here when you have a dozen or so type of bugs flying around at once, not counting the other dozen under the water. But, through trial and error, I figured out these particular fish were keyed in on Callibeatis nymphs, typical for Fall, and that bit of fortunate discovery made for an interesting two days.

My first two fish on the Madison came off a nondescript current seam, both browns measuring about a foot; if you put them both together. I was a bit puzzled at the lack of size myself, considering I'd been Googling "Big+Brown+Madison+River" all week at work before my trip, and the fish these guys were holding could've eaten my last two fish for breakfast. In any case, both were quickly released, hoping no Montana fly fisherman had seen me catch those river sardines.

And then she hit.

I had waded further upstream, which is synonymous to a tight rope act on water since one misstep can mean your ***, and I happened upon another current seam, seemingly identical to the one 100 feet below, and the one 100 feet below that where I had gotten my first two fish to go. And just like my presentation before, I didn't even seen my strike indicator move before I saw the flash, and I instinctively set the hook, and immediately my 4 weight was bent to the handle, and my first thought is that I'm stuck on a rock, and believe me, there are plenty of them, along with old trees and stumps. But, when I felt the head shakes, my second thought was, "Why didn't I grab my 6 weight instead?" And, when the fish bolted for the rapids taking my entire fly line and the backing with it, my last thought was, "There's no way a 6 weight is stopping this."

For the first time in my fly fishing career, I had to do the "Downstream Dance," which is like a modified Hokey Pokey. It involves your rod in your right hand while your arm is extended high up in the air, all the while your net that you prematurely engaged with your left hand is dragging behind you and then eventually floating downstream, as you try to run downhill on a bed of slippery, yet surprisingly sharp rocks. Eventually, gravity wins and you end up tripping face first into the Madison, causing a nice gash to your right wrist, two bruised and bloodied knees, and a lost GoPro that floated downstream. (If anybody in Ennis finds it, there's some epic footage in there and I can describe what the GoPro looks like.)

After recovering and not drowning (and trying to remove half a gallon of water in my waders), I took in my fly line on my reel only to find the fish was still on! A few moments later, my first 20" rainbow is in my net, and of course, because my GoPro was a mile downstream by now and I was in some precarious water, there was no pictures to be taken of the beautiful fish. But soon after I did get 3 more fish in the 17" range that fought like bloody hell that I did manage to get some shots of with my cell phone when I was in less susceptible areas.







I had hiked nearly a mile upstream which meant the hike back to the cabin was a rough one once the adrenaline had worn off and the pain finally kicked in from the fall. I had bought a Yeti Colster the week before, and I had forgotten I had packed it inside my pack. That cold Grapefruit Sculpin tasted extra cold and delicious and was the perfect companion on that walk back to the Inn at dusk.

Good thing I packed a first aid kit. California trout don't leave you bloodied and bruised, and itching for more, that's for sure. Even the GF was asking if I had fallen into the river.

Day Two

I woke up feeling like I'd gone 15 rounds against Ali the night before. After breakfast, I made the mistake of visiting a fly shop in town, where I believe the term "dock talk" originated from, because fly fisherman gossip more than a sewing circle on a Friday night. I had narrowed down some tributaries of Hegben Lake that I wanted to fish during the mid morning (with night time temps in the low 30s, the early morning bite was pretty much non-existent, so you could take your time and eat breakfast before heading to your destination). I finally rolled the dice on the South Fork of the Madison after hearing stuff like this from the scraggly haired kid at the fly shop:

"Oh man, South Fork is such a quality fishery, I highly recommend it right now, plus it's reaaaaal scenic...". Emphasis his.

Gotta give it to him. He was right about the last part.



After finding a turn out off a dirt road, I spent an hour looking at huge silvery fish feeding at the bottom of a run, and eventually I finally hooked one and as quickly as my adrenaline shot through me when I hooked it, it left me even quicker after I landed it, even thought it was a 24" specimen... two feet of the mountain whitefish variety. I hooked and landed 6 more before I started to think the fly shop kid had pulled a fast one on me and was probably laughing with his buddies, as he was successful in sending another tourist on another whitefish expedition. I hooked into my last whitefish before we finally packed our stuff up to have an early lunch, and had to explain to the better half the philosophical difference between a trout and a mountain whitefish.

"But it looked like the big whitefish thingie gave you a better fight," she innocently said.

"Yeah...but that's not the point."

Regardless, if anybody is looking for a quality mountain whitefish fishery where you also have the chance of getting mauled by a grizzly as a parting gift, PM me.



Feeling pretty confident on the pattern for the Madison near the Inn that was established the day before, Monday afternoon was spent there, and while the bite was not phenomenal, if you were lucky and fit enough to hike upstream to isolate these small pockets and seams that held fish, and presented the right fly of course, there were plenty of partners to dance with. For the few hours that I was there, about 10 fish were hooked and 6 beautiful 15 to 17 inch fish were brought to the net. This is an area where long distance releases tend to happen, and after losing the third fish, I just realized it just meant I was in the right place. Most importantly, no contusions to my knees, legs and wrists that day.

Day Three

We said good bye to the Slide Inn (and the effin mouse who inhabits Cabin #5 who attempted to steal my Doritos at 3 am before I threw my wading boot towards it) and we made the migration to Silver Gate, Montana, located at the opposite end of the park.

Unfortunately, the map that you are given when you pay your $25 entrance fee at the gate for Yellowstone National Park seems more like a map for Disneyland, since they make it seem like everything is so close, but those who have driven through the park can attest that mileage here is relative. Some days, extremely relative.

For example, the drive from West Yellowstone to Silver Gate that should take no more than 2 hours took nearly 4 hours that day. Bison traffic, tree maintenance, road construction, 2 million people stopped on the road to see a black bear cub, were all the culprits. By the time we had checked into our cabin, it was 2 pm, which left me a small window of opportunity to fish before the sun came down. The spot I had originally scouted out would take at least 45 minutes to reach by vehicle, plus another 30 minute hike, so because of the delay driving through the park, I reluctantly parked at the Pebble Creek campground and worked my way downstream to the confluence to Soda Butte Creek. I worked upstream nearly a mile and half until I reached the entrance of Icebox Canyon, and I managed to pick off three small Yellowstone Cutts, before the terrain got to be too much, even in waders. This section did not fish as well as it did last year. Perhaps I had missed prime feeding time, or perhaps the poisoning of the creek that occurred a few days earlier to ensure a pure native population, would have immediate effects.




Day Four

With less than stellar fishing on Soda Butte the day before, I armed myself with my 4 and 5 weights and we took a drive to the Tower Campground, and after a quick 30 minute hike, we were at the confluence of the Yellowstone and Tower Creek.



This particular section paid dividends last year, so this was one of areas that was immediately scheduled on the itinerary before this year's trip was even planned, and good thing that this stretch didn't disappoint. The water was running lower than last year, but there were plenty of fish to be had. The lower water opened up different areas on the far side of the river as well.





The fish here seem to run on a strict schedule. After arriving at 11 am and fishing until 1 pm without anything but a few refusals on terrestrial patterns, which included the furious retying of flies to see if one would be the ticket, the fishing turned on around 1 pm, and any current seam caused by disruptions from big boulders seemed to hold one or two fish. These are your classic 15 to 20" Yellowstone Cutthroat and the next two hours provided solid fishing for a dozen or so fish, with countless misses. Nymphing was the name of the game, and although you'd get a few looks if you tossed a dry, the fish weren't looking up enough even though there were still remnants of hoppers and various other critters basking in the 78 degree weather. Unfortunately, a cold spell and overnight freeze the week before pretty much turned off the terrestrial bite, as the weather system the week before had dropped snow even in the lower elevations.









We called it an early day and arrived to our cabin around 5 pm, right as a mayfly hatch was coming off, and at the same time the power for the entire area went out. Apparently a forest fire in Cody knocked out our power until 11 pm. In the interim, I grabbed my rod to see if I could reproduce the experience I had last year of getting into a solid dry fly bite for an hour outside my cabin, but this evening, and all others, Soda Butte was devoid of any rising fish. Once again, I think the poisoning affected the population immensely in these upper stretches. Last year, I spent 2 hours catching nearly 75 fish in a section no longer than two football fields. This year, I didn't even see signs of life on this stretch.

Day Five

The Lamar Valley looked like a LL Bean catalog all week with the amount of sports, and their guides, on the water. Wanting to get away from the fly fishing convention, I elected to hike about 45 minutes into some less traveled stretches of the Lamar River, far away from the meadow stretches that the drainage is best known for. After breakfast and the drive, we hit the trail around 10 am hoping to be making my first casts around 11 am.





The area, much like most of the areas off the paved paths in Yellowstone, was pristine and wild, and even though we may have gotten to the river a tad early and experienced a tough bite, the last hour provided some relief, as the rainbows made their presence known. I haven't caught a rainbow this far into the park ever, and their strong and determined fight was well worth the hike in, even though the numbers weren't there.







We packed it up around 4 pm and started heading back to the cabin in Silver Gate. It was about 5:30 pm by the time we were heading past the Lamar Valley, and the saner half decided that she wanted to stop in one of the turnouts to watch the sun set behind Specimen Ridge. This random stop turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

The car hadn't even stopped and I was already back in my waders, furiously tying my wading boots. The Lamar was about 100 yards from the pull out and there was no way in hell that I was going to let the opportunity pass, even if it meant just swinging a fly for an hour or so. After maneuvering around a small herd of bison who didn't look too concerned with me dropping in on them, I traversed down into the river bed and began analyzing the situation, and I was presented with my first 'foam sipping' scenario, which still has me perplexed.

Usually, when I see foam, it's accompanied with trash and other diaper related items strewn about in it, because the West Fork of the San Gabriel is so stagnant and pollution ridden, foam naturally develops. But, this real foam line was naturally created directly downstream from a bend where a side channel of the Lamar dumped back in. I was going to pass it up until I started seeing the rings being created by what seemed to be rising fish. Some even managed to get their wide backs out of the water.

I had about an hour before the sun came down, and that hour became like a game of chess. I was guessing what kind of bugs these fish were slurping down in the foam line and I finally got 2 fish to go on a small BWO, with the parachute in orange since a white parachute would've gotten lost in there. I even trailed the dry with a nymph, a wet fly and even a random emerger, and every cast where I saw a rise anywhere near where I think my fly would be, I would set the hook. The 2 fish I managed to get were nice 15 to 17" models, and I left the rising pod of fish as soon as the sun went down and a pack of coyotes made their presence known from a distance. I made a mental note on where this specific spot was, knowing full well it had feeding fish and was away from the road, and vowed to hit it again before I left Yellowstone, hoping to crack the puzzle.

A good tip is to walk away from turnouts. The further away you go, the better the fishing is.

Day Six

Time flies by when you're having fun. If time flew this fast when I'm at work, I'd be a happy camper. In any case, if any of you drag a non-fisherman to a fisherman's paradise, you'll soon realize it is a difficult venture, so I used this day to do some sight seeing, and the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone is one of the prettiest sights in the park and although I caught various glimpses of it last time, it was definitely a place to re-visit.





After meandering through the countless walkways and trails that line the top of the canyon, we hit up Artist's Point which is probably the best view you can get of the falls. Unlike last year, we didn't have sunshine illuminating the cornucopia of colors, but when the sun did shine through the clouds for those brief moments, mesmerizing views were to be had, and it was soon revealed why we made the 14 hour run from LA to be surrounded by this beauty.

As we made our way back to the cabin, I had the saner half drop me off at the same turnout where I had encountered the foaming trout the day before and told her to pick me up 4 hours later, which meant plenty of time to figure out a pattern, and plenty of time to finish off the flask I had packed.

The fish were still rising on the foam line. But, instead of playing a game I would probably lose at, I instead headed off upstream to see if I could find another pod of rising fish that were easier to catch, and after about a 100 yard hike upstream, I decided I'd rather spend my time pounding an area that I knew had fish, rather than playing Lewis and Clark and exploring uncharted territories upstream, so I made my way back to the foam line.

I sat down for about 15 minutes sipping my Macallan 15 Year, looking at the rising fish in the foam line before I decided to ignore them, and walk downstream 100 feet and bust out the ole "San Bernardino Pattern" to see if fish would go, and wouldn't you know it, after my second cast, I had a huge fish on the line, and I had no clue on how to even land it.

•

I signed up to stay in the Northeast section last year for reasons like the exact one that was currently causing a huge bend on my Hardy Zenith. Yellowstone Cutts aren't the best of fighters, but they are hard to move once they've found a current they can hold into once they are hooked. They're not rainbows, obviously. My previous incident earlier in the week on the Madison pretty much proved this, and the scars were still apparent, but once I got this 21" fish into the net, and successfully released of course, I had to take a few moments to gather myself while I sat on the bank of this amazing glacial valley, knowing full well that one of the goals I had set for myself this year (20"+ fish) had finally been knocked off the list. I could've stopped fishing right there at that moment in time, but fishermen know better.

A few casts later, I was hooked up again. While the fish continued rising upstream in the foam line 100 feet upstream, I hammered about a dozen 15 to 20" fish for about an hour on this single stretch below the foam line. As the sun went down over Specimen Ridge, my ride picked me up at the agreed upon turnout at the agreed upon to time. Nothing was said on the ride back to cabin. The grin on my face let me saner half know my vacation had finally reached its apex, and much like last year, the high point had come at the tail end of my vacation.













Day Seven

Yellowstone is huge. Last year, we left the park using the same route we used coming into the park, which was the most popular western entrance. This year, I tried to do something more 'off road,' considering the Jeep Cherokee I rented was full 4x4, and it wasn't mine. So, I tried to drive it like I stole it.

We spent the better half of the day traversing south through Yellowstone Lake and stopping off at the West Thumb to check out some of nature's delicacies, all of which we had bypassed last year due to our different escape route.















The features near the lake are breath taking, much like every other view you have in the park. After checking out all of nature's art, we started our way back home on a 4x4 trail that was supposed to lead to Ashton, ID and ultimately back home.

An hour into the dirt path, the road was completely closed. It was dark and we were in the middle of nowhere.

Not good.

Day Eight

After a rough night spent in a random campground off a mountain road, we finally made our way out of the middle of the forest back onto paved roads in the morning. Because of the delay the day before, we decided to make the drive all the way home today, this time going through Grand Teton National Park, which provided us some breath taking views all the way out through Jackson Hole. The saner half, still pissed off from the detour the night before, threw out the sarcastic "you sure you don't wanna fish this stretch of the Snake and get us lost again?" every 10 minutes, but doing so would've required getting a Wyoming license, which I wasn't in the mood to procure. Much like our drive up, the drive out was done in one shot.



14 hours of a drive comes very quickly when you have the views of southeastern Wyoming greeting you at every turn. I jumped into the driver's seat fairly early that evening and by 8 am, we were arriving back to LA, to the hugs and kisses of 3 anxious dogs who hadn't seen us in 9 days.

I passed out immediately, with the dreams of 20" cutthroats and rainbows still lingering in my head, all the while I changed the bandages on my knees from the fight a week before.

Catharsis

What an amazing 9 days. Everyone needs to visit Yellowstone at least once in their lifetime.

Obviously, the fly fishing aspect was the biggest draw in my eyes. But, don't think that all waters in Yellowstone National Park are all "fly fishing only" so members without any fly fishing experience can pack their spinning rod and have hundreds of miles where you can have an opportunity to get into the same native fish that Lewis and Clark ran into hundreds of years ago. Plan for the in-park miles that are never factored into itineraries, and be prepared for big swings in weather, which means having a good idea on how to layer your clothing. The week we were there, the highs hit 84 while the lows hit 28. Layering is a strategic factor, and being comfortable during big swings in temperature is key. The most important part? Take a moment to pause and look around, and realize that we're all lucky to have views and moments like this all around us. We just need to take the time to embrace and appreciate all of what our fore fathers left us, and also take the time to do our part in maintaining the beauty, and wildness that is Yellowstone National Park, and any of our National Parks.

"We pass with rapid transition from one remarkable vision to another, each unique of its kind and surpassing all others in the known world. The intelligent American will one day point on the map to this remarkable district with the conscious pride that it has not its parallel on the face of the globe."

-- Ferdinand Vandeveer Hayden, 1872

[City Dad]

meh... this report's okay if you like that sorta thing, I guess...

[Stumpknocker]

Stunning pictures, gorgeous fish, fantastic report...thanks!

[Lady Quagga]

Seems my previous post attempt was met with some boos. Ah well, c'est la vie.

At any rate, fantastic report, great photos of the scenery and fish. Can't help but be a little jealous. Thanks for sharing!

[twin22s]

Epic trip, and even more epic write up. Thanx DS. you have outdone yourself.

[CrazyBrrro]

very beautiful pictures brotha thanks for sharing the places and the fish you caught .I want to go to yellowstone soon i went to the eatern sierras about 7 time this summer and i loved every second caught a lot of didffernet species of trout and hiked many places.

[WARRIORMIKE]

If there was a "thanks" button to click on I would definitely click on it for this post.

Good yab man!!

[TROUT MASTERS]

great looking pics and report thanks for shearing

[DockRat]

[old pudd fisher]

Just seen it very nice.