Saturday, March 14, 2020

Steep and Nasty - 2019 Elk


Elk and Mule Deer Hunting 2019

Am I a trophy hunter? I wouldn't define myself as one, but harvesting a mature bull elk with more bone on his head than room in my house is a frequent dream I have. "You can't eat the antlers", and "The big ones are all old and chewy"; I hear this from many hunters, but after being blessed with 2 spike elk in my previous years hunts, I was determined in 2019 to "hold out" for a mature bull and find out for myself if it was worth the effort. 

All spring and summer I couldn't wait to return to the steep, nasty, elk filled hillsides I discovered last year. A short scouting trip in August revealed the elk were exactly where I had left them last year. My hunting partners and I located 4 bulls right where we wanted them. My father also joined me several weeks later to place a trail camera and soon I had camp set up in the area. My anticipation was terribly high by early October.

Elk season would open soon but with a deer tag in my pocket, I hunted the area; checking the photos on my trail camera and scouting more for elk and deer. To my surprise, my "elk honey hole" had quite a few deer in it this year. The trail camera showed a couple nice bucks, and just before dark one evening, my spotting scope found a dandy buck: a large 4X6 with a set of dark gorgeous antlers. With this caliber of deer in the area, I decided then that I would not shoot a deer unless he was a really big one. My deer hunting/scouting trip ended without pulling the trigger, but I would be returning in a few days for the opening of elk season.
Joining me this year would be my long-time friend and hunting partner, Ryan Bier. Ryan had hunted waterfowl with me several times but had yet to kill a big game animal. Ryan would be the first shooter, deer or elk. After he notched a tag, then I'd be up. 

The evening before opening day I walked down to the glassing spot to try to locate some animals. One hour before dark I located a herd of elk, 2 ridges over. Spike, rag-horn, cow, big bull... I heard a rock shift behind me and saw Ryan approach. Ryan had gotten off work that afternoon and frantically drove up to try to get there by last light. 
"Look through the spotting scope. I just found a nice bull." I said, moving over for Ryan to look through.
"Sweet!" Ryan replied.
The bull appeared to be the herd bull, a 6X6 with long back-scratchers. He was feeding and chasing other bulls and bugling from time to time.
We watched the entire basin until dark, seeing a few more elk in some much harder areas to access. Everything was lining up like the hunting shows: nice weather, lots of elk, locating a big bull the night before opening morning, shooting him opening morning...


That night in the tent we put together a plan on how we were going to make it happen. It's rarely easy, and an elk with that many other cows and small bulls around him has a lot of other eyes to watch out for him. On the other hand, we had counted at least 4 other bulls in the herd to shoot; somebody ought to get an animal out of there. I didn't sleep much that night, replaying negative possibilities in my head; the elk wouldn't be there tomorrow, someone else will sneak in, the wind will switch and they will all spook... But morning came and by first light we were well on our way down the trail to where the elk were. As we snuck toward the ridge the elk had been on the night before, I remembered there was a spot you could look over the edge and see a large piece of drainage. I had seen a couple bucks on my deer hunting trip there. We were almost to that "look over" spot, so I diverted Ryan and I over there. 

We snuck to the edge where the mountainside fell off into steep nasty country. The change in grade allowed us to see a large piece of prime deer and elk real estate. Ryan and I froze and began scanning the country below us. There! 150 yards directly below us stood 2 deer. To the naked eye, I could tell they were bucks, and one was not half bad; a spindly 4X4 about 22 inches wide. This buck would be perfect for Ryan.
"Ryan, do you see them?" I whispered with excitement.
"Yes. Which one is bigger?" Ryan asked, as he slowly pulled the arms of his rifle bi-pod out.
"Shoot the one on the left; he's pretty big."
Ryan sat down and got ready for the shot. Both bucks were staring directly at us, but the wind was right, so I knew we had a little time. I looked down at Ryan who was shaking.
"Rest your bi-pod on your boots. Take your time. Don't rush the shot." I advised, knowing what it was like when I shot my first deer.
Ryan steadied himself and squeezed the trigger. BOOOOM!
I watched the bucks run off to our left, weaving in and out of the trees. The one Ryan had aimed at appeared to be hobbling slightly. Or was it just the steep rocky country? The buck stopped at the ridge crest and looked like it was going to bed down. It didn't, and slowly trotted over the ridge crest and out of view. 
"How did the shot feel?" I asked, as Ryan stood back up.
"It felt good. I thought he was just going to die right there on that ridge top." Ryan replied, still shaking with excitement.
"If it felt good, it probably was. He's probably dead just out of view on the other side. Let's wait about 30 minutes and we'll walk over there and see if we can find him. From there we should be able to see if the elk are still there. Good job man! Your first deer! And it's only 15 minutes into our hunt!"

We crept around the ridge and started dropping elevation, hoping to spot Ryan's dead deer. Ryan's deer wasn't laying dead in the wide open, but the herd of elk from the night before was. 
"Dude, look! Elk!" Ryan said, pointing to the ridge to our left.
Sure enough, elk were scattered across the hillside. It didn't take long to spot the large herd bull we'd seen the night before.
"Let's go get you that big bull! My deer can wait. Those elk are right there." Ryan said encouragingly.
"Ok. I suppose we probably should."
Ryan and I snuck closer, constantly keeping an eye on the herd and checking the wind. The hillside was getting steeper and patches of snow made walking difficult. We were able to creep within 350 yards where I found a nice log to rest on. I found the big bull in my rifle scope feeding in the wide open, however, I couldn't get steady. I was laying on such a steep hill, it was just too uncomfortable. 
"We have to get closer and I have to find a better rest for my gun." I said to Ryan.
"Let's go to that little flat bench down there. From there I bet it'll only be a 200 yard shot."
"You think we could sneak down there and not get caught?"
"They look pretty occupied, and the thermals are blowing up the hill in our face."
"Ok, let's do it."
The hillside was getting steeper and the dead weeds were noisy, but despite all of that, we were able to sneak down to the bench. We now had elk above and below us, all within 300 yards. We lost sight of the big bull, but suspected he was at our same elevation and somewhere on a small ridge about 200 yards in front of us.
"Look Ryan, there's a bull down below us." Ryan whispered and pointed to a rag-horn feeding on practically a cliff face 250 yards below us. 
"Yeah he's in the wide open, but I want that big bull." I whispered greedily.
Then I saw him, the big 6X6 bull stepped out from behind a patch of dead trees and started feeding up the hill. He was directly on top of the small ridge 200 yards in front of us. I quickly found him in my scope. But once again, I just didn't feel steady. My rifle was rested on my backpack, but I wasn't going to take a shot at a big bull like this if I didn't feel 100% solid. A wounded elk in this nasty country could be a nightmare!
"Man, I don't feel solid!" I said to Ryan in frustration.
"Here, I'll sit sideways and let you rest your gun on my pack and we'll put your pack out here near the barrel of the gun."
Ryan slowly shifted as we got into position. I looked through the scope and finally felt steady. I found the big bull just as he stepped over to the back side of the ridge and bedded down. The large tan target instantly reduced to a set of antlers protruding over the ridge line.
"Darn it! He's bedded down. I can't see his body, only his antlers!" I  whispered in frustration.
Then we heard a bark. A cow above us had spotted us in our movement and had us pinned. She continued to bark, alerting all the elk to danger in the area. Despite the impending doom we were likely to face with a barking cow, I continued to look at the antlers in my scope. Maybe he'll stand up? Sure enough, the big bull stood from his bed. I could only see the top 2/3 of his abdomen, but that was enough. The cow barking apparently had no "street-cred", because the bull did not appeared to be alarmed, but was only shifting in his bed to find a more comfortable position to lay. The bull turned broad-side and I knew this was my shot. BOOOOM! Instantly the elk dropped and all I could see were his antlers. I quickly jacked another round into the chamber. The antlers disappeared and then I saw my bull running downhill and out of view. I shot again through a gap in the trees but doubted I hit him.  
"Well, I think I got him. That first shot felt money." I said, still breathing heavy from the excitement.
"That was awesome! That's a big elk, dude!" Ryan said.
"Well... Shall we go get your deer?"
"Yeah I guess we better."

It was now 9:30 in the morning and we suspected we had 2 animals down. This had turned out to be a great opening day. As happy as I was to have shot a big bull, I was even more happy that Ryan had killed something. Or had he? Had I? We didn't have confirmation my bull was dead either. In the back of my mind I was really uncomfortable that Ryan's deer didn't drop in it's tracks, and my elk wasn't laying dead in plain view. This steep nasty country was not forgiving in any aspect. 

Ryan and I scoured the hillside and ridge top in search of his deer. We started where we had last seen his deer and then split up. We searched for 2 hours and never found a trace of blood or even hair. We followed tracks, but there were so many deer tracks in the area, it was hard to know which one was Ryan's.  
"Now that I think about it, the shot angle was so steep I probably shot right over his back." Ryan admitted.
"I bet you did. We looked hard man. If you had hit him we'd know by now." I reassured. "Let's go get my elk."

Ryan and I returned to the ridge my elk had been on. My anxiety was high, but 50 yards downhill from where the elk had stood, I could see him laying dead. I exhaled a deep sigh of relief and inhaled a deep breath of joy. 

We descended down the steep rocky mountainside to where the beast lay. Ironically he had died on the only flat piece of ground in the area; an elk sized bench of bare ground. He was all I had dreamed of; long, dark and heavy antlers with a touch of character.
His body was also huge. I could tell he would provide a lot more meat than a spike. 

We took some photos, ate a snack and then started the real work of breaking him down. By 3 pm we had him in 7 game bags, ready to pack up the hill. My plan was to shuttle all the meat to the top of the mountain where we'd hang it. From there we could walk the old road that was more or less flat back to camp about a mile away. Ryan and I set off on the first trip, but as we ascended the steep hill, it was clear that this steep quarter mile would not be easy. We had to stop about every 10 steps to catch our breath and our legs were already cramping. We powered through, however, and by dark we had all the meat up to the top and hung. We were exhausted and out of food and water. We each loaded our packs with meat and set off on the road back to camp. What a day it had been. Tomorrow morning we'd sleep in a bit, then carry the rest of the meat back to camp; two more trips we figured.

That afternoon, after we had all the meat back to camp, we hiked down to the glassing spot to try to find Ryan a bull. With an hour of daylight to spare, we located a rag horn on the ridge to our right, about 1,500 feet below us. 
"Let's go give it a shot Ryan, we'll have to hurry, but we might be able to sneak in on him and get a shot just before dark."
"Let's do it." Ryan Bier said, as we slung our packs on and started down the hill. 
As we approached the area we thought the elk was in, we realized we were in serious elk habitat. The trail on the top of the forested ridge was beaten into the ground and I doubted few humans had been on this trail. We went into full stealth mode, but as a flash of tan cut across the trail, I realized how clumsy us humans are in comparison to these animals. The bull stopped 50 yards in front of us on the trail but his vitals were blocked by a tree. Ryan immediately dropped to a prone position for stability but couldn't get a clear shot. 
"Can you shift a little to see his vitals?" I whispered, frozen in my tracks on the trail. 
Ryan tried to moved but the bull bolted further down the trail. He stopped several times but always behind some trees or bushes. Ryan crept after him in the fading light but it was futile. We hiked out of there in the light of our head lamps. We came so close, and perhaps only the slightest difference in timing could have made the difference in an all nighter on the mountain. 

That night we carved off several steaks from my elks back strap.
"These would sure be good if we had a little Montreal steak seasoning and a little butter to sear them on this griddle." I said, practically drooling.
"I've got both of those things. I'm always prepared. My father always said, 'if its worth doing, it's worth doing right'." Ryan said, producing a half stick of butter and a shaker of Montreal steak seasoning out of one of the 5 containers in the back of his truck.
"You're a good man to bring along, Ryan."
That steak ended up being the most delicious steak I think I've ever eaten. As far as I could tell, the saying about old animals being tough was wrong.

The following day we trekked around another area and found a few more animals but nothing to shoot. Before we knew it it was time to go home. I felt like I had let Ryan down. He should have been the one to pull the trigger on the elk.

I returned to the area a few days later with my dad to see if we could turn up any more bucks. We did, but they were all 2 and 3 points. We did, however, scout out some areas and located a lot of new bulls for Ryan to chase. Ryan would be returning in a week for his last chance at an elk of the season. 

Just before his trip I informed Ryan where the elk were and anxiously awaited some good news. Ryan sent me a picture of him next to a spike elk on the first day of his trip. My joy was uncontainable. Helping someone into their first elk is way better than shooting one yourself. My only regret was not being with him when he did it. However, I was happy that I didn't have to help him pack it out. He shot it in a deep, nasty hole with at least 2,000 feet of elevation to gain getting it to the top. 

I returned the last week of the season with Rick, my father in law. He had the same elk tag but had chose to hunt some private land in a different area at the beginning of the season. Rick was excited to see all the elk we'd seen in the area, but not excited about the steep, nasty country. It didn't take long, and by 10 am the first full day of hunting, we found a herd of elk. Rick picked out a spike in the herd and dropped him. Luckily we'd only traveled a couple hundred yards down an old road and the pack out was a breeze. 

It had been a very successful season with 3 out of 3 rifle elk tags punched. The formula was scouting and hunting an area nobody else wanted to hunt; steep and nasty. 

Am I a trophy hunter? If all large, mature animals provide as much tasty meat as my elk did, I may turn into one after all.





Sunday, March 8, 2020

Pyramid Lake 2020



February 2020
If you build it they will come. Pyramid Lake is a true success story. Through proper management and restoration of a unique strain of Lahonton Cutthroat Trout, Pyramid Lake has become a top destination for anglers seeking truly monstrous trout. I had been dreaming of making a trip for quite some time and it was finally happening. Joining me would be longtime fishing partners Camron Despain and Kevin Higgs. Also tagging along would be Derek Peterson, fellow big fish hunter and fly shop colleague. Kevin would be pulling his camp trailer over for us to stay in.

Camron and Kevin arrived a day earlier than Derek and I. Camron and Kevin set the camper up and did some exploring and fishing, but sadly no fish came to hand their first afternoon at the lake. 
By 4 am, Derek and I were on the road. When we arrived in Winnemucca, I was pleasantly surprised to see a hero shot of a nice Lahonton Cutthroat trout ding into my phone as we came into cell service. Camron and Kevin were on the board! The last couple hours of the drive seemed to drag on as our anticipation grew.

Derek and I met Camron and Kevin at a rocky point they had fished that morning. By 10 am the bite had ended, but they had each landed a fish. We all fished for a couple hours longer before deciding to move onto a recommended beach for the evening bite. The weather was very nice; too nice. Calm glassy waters and cloudless skies defined the afternoon. Everything we had read was that fishing at Pyramid was best when the weather was nasty. The worst part was that the forecast called for this weather the entire time we were there. Regardless, we set up our 4 ladders in a large gap between other anglers at a popular fishing beach. Ladders are a useful fishing platform at Pyramid, enabling anglers to stand higher in the water and still reach the drop-off that the fish cruise, just beyond waist-deep water.

We all started fishing double chironomids, or "chids" with indicators and it didn't take Camron long to tie into a fish.

We all hoped the chid bite would turn on, but as quickly as our excitement started, it faded as the afternoon wore on and nobody caught any more fish. Finally, Kevin switched to stripping a bugger with a popcorn beetle and hooked up. 

Other anglers around us slowly began to pick up a fish here and there, including Kevin who seemed to have the "hot hand", who landed 2 more fish by 5pm. 

I also finally hooked into my first fish shortly after. 

Soon it was dark and Kevin finished the day with 4, Camron 3, myself 1 and Derek sadly had yet to receive a sniff. 

We started the next day at the same beach. At first light, we placed our ladders near the drop-off and began casting and stripping. A few casts later I tied into a nice cutty. 

I apparently had the hot hand for the morning because I kept getting bit. Meanwhile, 30 feet to either side of me, Kevin hooked one but Derek still hadn't seen any fish. We were all using the same thing and retrieving our flies the same, yet I was receiving the love this morning. We had been warned that Pyramid could be like this. 

By the time the sun crested the mountains around us, the bite had ended. I finished the morning with 4 fish, while Camron and Kevin landed 1 a piece, and Derek still no love. 

We decided to do some exploring while the fishing was slow. We had heard that when the sun is out and the lake is calm, find some rocky areas near deep water and fish with indicators. We explored the lake and found areas worth trying and areas to avoid. But as the afternoon progressed with no fish, we found ourselves on another popular beach waiting with everyone else for the evening bite. However, this beach was so popular that we were forced to split up. Camron and Kevin squeezed into a spot in the North side of the bay while Derek and I squeezed into the South. As the sun fell behind the mountains, people began to catch fish, including Derek who tied into a feisty specimen.

We saw Kevin catch a few and the guy next to him landed a 13 pounder, but as it got later, Derek and I still hadn't seen anymore action in our neighborhood. Strangely enough, people were clearing out with plenty of daylight to spare, including a spot near Kevin and Camron. Derek and I quickly relocated our ladders and resumed flogging the water in a new neighborhood. Just before dark I hooked one, but that was it. 

The following morning we found ourselves once again at the same beach we fished the previous morning. Today the forecast had called for wind in the afternoon and this beach was supposed to fish dynamite with a strong wind. The morning progressed with a few hookups, but as the sun came out and the water calmed, we debated whether to stay and wait for the wind or do some more exploring. We decided to explore.

We found a nice rocky point where some ladies were hooked up on a nice fish. We walked over to see a monster of a cutty slip into the net. The fish ended up being 18 pounds! Camron and Kevin decided to fish in that area while Derek and I decided to drive to another point nearby. While Derek took a brief nap in the truck, I walked down to the water to find a spot to fish. There were anglers fishing the main rocky point, but just to the South I noticed a couple submerged rocks that I could wade to. Once out there, I would be nearly surrounded by deep, dark water. I tippie-toed out to the rocks and an optimistic smile came across my face; this water looked good! Next to where I stood, a bleached bone rested on the rock. I think I'll call this spot "bone rock". With my chids set-up at about 10 ft deep, I patiently stared at my bobber on the glassy water. Fort-five minutes must have passed and I was nearly day dreaming when suddenly a lone cloud passed over the sun. While I longed for the afternoon skies to fill with clouds, my bobber sunk. Luckily I was paying just enough attention to notice and set the hook. I felt significant weight on the end of my line and it was obvious I was dealing with a different caliber of fish. The fish battled hard as I pondered how I was going to land this fish by myself and get a picture. 
"Looks like you could use a netter!" I turned around to see Derek coming down the hill.
"Just in time man!" I replied.
After a great fight, Derek scooped the 27 inch fish into the net. We high-fived and took some photos of our first big Lahonton Cutthroat.

I had Derek wade out to the rocks and fish while I tried another area. Again, a cloud passed over the sun and almost immediately I heard Derek shout, fish on! I ran down to help him, but the large fish rolled and broke him off. Derek said he saw the fish when it rolled and he estimated it weighed in the teens! 
Derek continued to fish the "bone rock", with several more hook-ups. I texted Camron to see how they were doing. He had hooked a monster that had nearly spooled him and lost. Derek and I continued to fish the "bone rock" until the wind finally showed up. The once placid pond turned into the ocean with 2 and 3 foot rollers crashing into the bank. With newfound optimism we continued to fish with no luck. It was now getting close to sundown, so we packed up and headed back to where Camron and Kevin were fishing. 

They had slowly encroached on the ladies in the hotspot, taking notes as they continued to catch fish all afternoon. We fished this area until dark. Curious if the ladies would be fishing these rocks in the morning, I decided to go talk to them as they were packing up. These slightly "hippie-looking" girls lived in Tahoe and would be driving back that night. They were friendly and helpful, showing me how deep they were fishing and what flies they were using. We now had a game plan for tomorrow.

Before light we were at the "hippie-chick rocks", as we were now calling them. Kevin and I decided to fish the cove nearby and strip flies while Camron and Derek fished indicators off the rocks. At first light I set the hook on a substantial fish. It pulled hard and then made a run toward me. As it came near my ladder and into headlamp view, I caught a glimpse of the fish. 
"Kevin!" I shouted, realizing I would need some help.
The fished raced away and took all my fly line with it as I climbed down from my ladder to grab my net on the shore. Kevin slowly made his way down the beach just as the fish finally tired and I scooped it into the net. 
"Dang, that's a nice one," Kevin said. "I landed one up there but he was smaller."
We took some photos and measured the length of the fish: 30 inches.

The sun came over the hill as Kevin and I made our way back to the rocks. Derek had hooked 4 fish in the morning. The 4 of us lined the rocks and pounded the water for the next several hours. Camron and Derek had the hot hands as they landed several fish before lunch. 

I decided to hike back up to "bone rock" and fish for a while for a change of scenery. Once again the sun and glassy waters marked the weather for the day and after a couple hours of no fish, I returned to the "hippie chick rocks". The rest of the guys had caught a couple while I was gone but it had slowed. The guys commented on how they had seen a couple fish cruise in close to the bank. I let my flies drift in a tad closer than previous casts and my indicator took a dive. I set the hook and once again knew I had a significant fish. In the clear water we could see it was another very large fish. Camron filmed the entire battle on his go pro and after scooping the fish into the net, we weighed it: 12 pounds and 30 inches! Unfortunately, when I lifted the fish for a picture it shot out of my hands and back into the deep water. 

A little while later I brought in another mid 20 inch fish and so did Camron.

We finished the day like we had started it; Camron and Derek on the rocks and Kevin and I returning to the beach to strip flies. At last light, I hooked into a 26 inch gorgeous colored up male. Unfortunately we didn't get a picture of this fish either because my phone was dead and so was Kevin's.
We decided to finish out our last morning at a popular beach and rocky spot that we'd observed people fishing well over the last several days. Not having scouted this area, we made our way down in the dark to the rocks hoping to find a good spot. Camron and Kevin decided to strip flies on the beach. Right away, we could tell there were lots of fish nearby because they were rolling all over. I had just enough light to see my indicator, so I started fishing. I missed several take-downs before hooking into a scrappy fish. I quickly shook it free and resumed fishing the magic hour. I tied into another smaller fish and quickly released it as well. Fish were rolling all over. My indicator took a plunge again just as the sun was coming over the hill. After a great fight, Derek gave me a hand in netting and taking a picture of a 27 inch fish. 
Now that the sun was on the water, the morning magic faded and Camron and Kevin appeared. They had each landed one on the beach. The fish stopped rolling, but our neighbors a few rocks down began putting on a clinic catching big fish. We could tell these guys were jaded because they were releasing high 20 inch fish without even taking pictures. Envious, Kevin went over to talk to them and see what they were doing. Kevin gathered the "skinny" for next time, but unfortunately it was time for us to pack it up and head back home. 

Pyramid Lake had challenged us but also offered up some love. Despite tough conditions, we managed a few fish and a few nice ones at that. We all had some rough days and some days where it seemed one of us just had the special hand. We learned a ton about a unique fishery. I can honestly say I'm hooked and can't wait to return!  







Sunday, June 9, 2019

The Owyhee's

May 2019
The annual Owyhee trip was upon us. Our crappie supply in the freezer had dwindled just in time for the hot crappie bite that comes only once a year. In addition to hitting the reservoir, we would camp on the river and fish for brown trout in the mornings and evenings. This year we brought the float tubes, hoping to access the slower stretches of river where wading is difficult. 

The spring weather this year had been dicey at best. Storm after storm had been through the area and temperatures were much colder than normal.
"I bet this cold rainy weather has made crappie fishing tough." I said to the gal at the Owyhee Grocery store as we bought our Oregon license's.
"Nope. They are taking them out by the buckets right now. I'm jealous I'm not up there!" She replied with sincerity.
With a report like that we rushed up the reservoir to partake in hopefully insane crappie fishing. The weather had other plans though. Rain came down in buckets as we tried to ready the boat to launch. Despite the weather, Katie was chomping at the bit to get on the water. Katie LOVES catching crappie.

When the rain subsided slightly we launched the boat, motored over to some nearby rocks and began fishing. On my first cast, the indicator sunk and seconds later I was lipping a 9 inch black crappie. 

We made our way back into a popular cove where many bank anglers had fished. The flooded bushes were decorated like Christmas trees with jigs and bobbers. A kaleidoscope of different colors could be seen dangling here and there. I worked around each bush to "clean up" the litter, gathering all kinds of jigs and bobbers.
We fished that afternoon for several hours and landed nearly 100 crappie and several bass. 
We didn't keep any crappie. This evening had been a recon trip to establish what size crappie we could keep the following day. Nine and half inches would make it on the stringer.

That night the rain came down in buckets again. We chickened out on fishing the river in the evening at camp, and when I woke up in the morning, it was still raining. Regardless, the brown trout were calling my name. While Katie slept, I wadered up and made my way to the river. I started with a nymph rig; a frenchie trailed by an egg pattern. It worked well, and in short order, I was netting a 15 inch brown. 
A few casts later, it produced another nice fish.
I landed 4 fish on 4 different flies by 8 am. No hatches had materialized, so subsurface was the game. 

I came back to camp and Katie and I got ready to fish the reservoir. As soggy as it had been the previous day, Katie and I wore our waders this time. Once on the water, fishing was again excellent!
We ended that day with loads of fish caught, but only 19 crappie were large enough to make it on the stringer.

Back at camp the rain came down in buckets, forcing us to retreat to the safety of the tent. Our gear was being tested in this weather. Everything was beginning to get soggy, including our outlook on the following day of fishing.

I awoke the next morning to clouds, but no rain. I quickly wadered up and readied the float tube to fish the pool at camp.
I fished the famed "Spiller's Diver," with no luck. I then switched to a black cone head wolly bugger. On my first cast, the rod was nearly jerked out of my hands. Slow to the take, I missed several fish before connecting.
Once I found my groove, I began to connect with at least half of the takes I was receiving.
The browns were absolutely crushing my wooly bugger this morning. I couldn't wait to get Katie out in the tube to partake in this action.
I landed 8 browns by 8 am. I woke Katie up to see what she wanted to do.
"Let's catch more crappie!" She said with a smile. "Maybe if it gets sunny later we'll try the river."

Back up to the reservoir we went. As we crested the dam, the image before us looked like a scene from Jurassic Park. The green mountains disappeared into the clouds like those of Isla Nublar. Although not raining at the moment, rain was clearly in the future. 
We launched the boat and took off up the reservoir to some coves we've hit in the past. Although we found crappie nearly everywhere, Katie and I found one rock pile that was loaded with them! Tons of bigger ones too. Almost half of the crappie from this location ended up on the stringer.
We must have caught at least 30 crappie off this one rock pile! 

We fished on, making our way into a nice cove. I knew there would be some bass lurking in the back, so I tied on a Spillers Diver and sent it in. The diver plopped down on the water. As I started chugging the diver toward me, a large shadow materialized behind the fly. I paused the fly for 5 seconds. The shadow slowly crept closer until it sat centimeters away. Then it opened its large mouth, the fly instantly disappearing into a swirl of bubbles. I set the hook hard, momentarily feeling the weight of a large bass. Then my rod went slack as the fly broke off. I cursed my poorly and hastily tied knot; something I rarely do. With barbless hooks, you'll often find the fly floating back up in the area, but no such phenomenon was seen. I tied on another diver and sent it back in. My fly hung up on a piece of stick or weed. I quickly drug it in to find a very unusual surprise: my fly! How I managed to place a blind cast directly onto my broken off fly, which I didn't even see, and bring it in is a miracle. 
It must have been destiny. The next cast back into the cove produced a nice largemouth. Not the whopper from before, but still a really nice bass.
We fished on. Catching many more crappie and bass. Every time we'd reach a "bassy" looking area we'd throw the diver with success. Even the crappie were coming up for the diver!
The weather was highly variable, with sun at moments and more rain mixed in. The fishing however wasn't. It was non-stop action!
The scenery in the Owyhee's is also second to none.
In the early afternoon we could see darker, threatening clouds brewing. A wall of water approached us faster than we could escape. 
We fished through the rain and hail, but we knew it was about time to call it quits. Before we could take off though, a carp decided he needed to be caught.

With well over a hundred and fifty fish caught, and nearly 40 crappie on the stringer, it was time to head home. We filleted our crappie as the rain continued to come down. The heavy rain made our decision to float and fish the river an easy one; some other time. 

The annual Owyhee trip was again a success. It may take several days to completely dry out, but it was worth it!