Steelhead with Jason

Clearwater Steelhead, winter 2024

Jason and I had been trying to fish together for years. Jason is a fellow steelhead junky and accomplished angler. We finally nailed down some dates and it was happening. Jason mostly fishes the main Clearwater from a boat and I mostly wade on the little river. Both of us were excited to learn from each other.

"I finally get to fish with the G.O.A.T.!" Jason said, as we loaded up early in the morning.

"I just hope your expectations aren't too high..." I chuckled, shaking my head. 

The drive up to the river flew by as we talked fishing and hunting. The river had seen a couple of big spikes in flow, meaning the fish would be on the move. As we drove down the little river, we knew we'd need to fish the main because the water clarity was garbage. That's why we brought a boat! We launched the boat in one of Jason's favorite runs and we were officially fishing.

The clarity here was off a little bit too. Visibility was a little over a foot; not terrible, but 3 feet is about perfect. We fished hard, taking turns rowing to the top of the run and drifting down. We eventually moved upriver to another spot with clearer water. We watched a couple fish caught here but sadly, we never hooked up. 

We pulled the boat out with a little light to spare and scouted for the following day. With sunlight in the forecast and dropping flows, the little river would be the smart move. We selected a promising spot and anxiously awaited what the following day would bring. 

At first light, we were standing in "Moe's run". This run is characterized by a fast, pinching riffle at the top that deepens and slows to a long, slow tail-out with an unsuspecting trough. Fish hold in a few different spots throughout and I've learned where to look over the years. The crowds weren't bad on the river, so as fortune would have it, we were alone this morning.

Without any hookups by 8:30am, I moved down to the slow stuff at the bottom. I shallowed up my indicator, took off a little weight and began casting. It couldn't have been more than 5 drifts and my indicator sank. I threw a quick mend in the line, knowing that would either "un-snag" the bottom or if it was a fish, cause the fish to pull back. The indicator did not re-rise to the surface but instead pulled back. I set the hook hard. Fish on! Jason had taught me this technique the day before and I had to admit, I liked it. 

Jason came downriver with the net and helped me with the small fish. This would be a perfect fish to keep and smoke. 

With my set-up dialed and ready to go for this lower end, I resumed casting. Three casts later I was into another.

This time, after releasing the small wild fish, I had Jason fish the lower end. I walked up to the middle of the run, with the deeper, faster water and started casting again. Several casts later, I hooked up again. The sun was shining and the air temps had warmed; the fish were obviously digging it. Another great fish for the smoker!

We both went back to our spots and it didn't take Jason long to figure out the bottom end. 

Another small hatchery fish for the smoker! We don't normally catch this many "small" fish, but the early runners on this river sometimes are smaller than the normal B-run fish. 

I hooked another and lost it, then Jason followed up with a big hatchery female. The morning was really picking up! 

Jason was excited to fish some new water to him and I was simply enjoying how we had the whole run to ourselves. The action remained steady until mid-afternoon. 

With an hour or so of daylight left to spare, we left to check out another spot I had in mind. Jason wasted no time in hooking up in the new run.

This would be the only fish we'd tangle with at this location. It had been a solid day of steelhead fishing; Jason landed 5 of 7 hookups and myself, 4 of 6. 

We had considered trying a new spot for the following morning, but you know what they say... "you don't leave fish to find fish." Selecting a spot to steelhead fish is an important decision. Between the crowds you often find, and the challenge alone of "beating" the water for a hook-up or two, wasting limited time can make a big difference in the amount of success you have. We opted to return to "Moe's run" because we knew where the fish were, where to stand, and the depth and weight required for effective drifts. 

The first hour was cold and frosty, but as things warmed a bit, so did the action. Jason grabbed the first nice fish; a big, dark hatchery male.

I hooked a couple and had short-lived battles before the hook came free. Jason grabbed another on the lower end; this time a big hatchery female.

Jason had really dialed in this lower end. Every time I'd try it for a bit, I wouldn't catch anything. I wouldn't even see any fish porpoise. Then Jason would fish it and hook up, commenting on the occasional flurries of porpoising fish. Sometimes it's just not your day. 

Jason hooked into another great fish in the middle of the run; a big, wild female. The quality and condition of the fish this morning was exceptional. 

We fished until mid-day, when we decided it was time to head home.

It had been a fun few days of fishing with Jason. We each learned some new waters and had some success. The smaller fish I kept smoked up very well and were delicious. The spring steelhead season was just getting started and another trip was surely in order! 

 

Big Game Hunting 2023

Fall 2023

Archery Elk

My 2023 big game season started in September. I was determined to hunt elk again with my bow, especially after such a thrilling hunt last year. Joining me again was Bryce, with Ryan and Seth attempting to meet us there on the weekends. We choose to hunt during what most would consider the peak of the rut. 

Our hunt started with a fair amount of action with a few bulls bugling here and there the first couple of days. I had placed trail cams in July that showed several bulls in one area in the last few days. 

 

We called two different spike elk into nearly 10 yards in the same day on our second day of the hunt, but neither one presented a good shot. The next day we had a small group cascade down the hill toward us and gave Bryce a super quick 40 yard shot at a spike. He missed and hit a tree, unfortunately. It felt as though things might finally pan out this year. 

Everything came to a screeching halt when we woke up one morning to lots of new vehicles parked at almost every pullout, closed road and trailhead. It was obvious that lots of other hunters also had the grand idea that this was the "prime" time to be chasing elk with a bow. The woods went absolutely silent and the elk behavior changed. Bryce and I hit the hills hard everyday, starting at dark and finishing at dark. We tried a lot of different calling setups, new trails and hillsides, scratching our heads at what to do. Nothing was working.

By day 7 we were tired and exhausted. We'd relocated camp and tried hunting an entirely different mountain only to find just as many people there as well. On the last afternoon of the last day, we set off on a new trail to try some densely forested hillsides adjacent to some cliffy areas. We were immediately onto a lot of fresh elk sign. We tried a small amount of calling without any response. We pushed on, gaining more elevation and slowly working our way to the cliffs. We reached a prominent ridge with some dark woods on the valley-side in front of us. We had about an hour before dark, so this calling setup would likely be our last. We went with the ol' "cow party"; about the only setup we've really had luck with in the past. We began calling and immediately we heard a bull bugle in front of us. I decided to drop back and continue calling while Bryce stayed quiet on the ridge, ready to intercept a bull headed toward me. I scratched the ground, called and tried to sound like a bunch of excited cows. After about 45 minutes, I crept back up to Bryce.

"Dude, it was a huge bull! He came out right down there with sun on him." Bryce whispered excitedly, pointing to a large Ponderosa pine about 90 yards away. "He got a little closer and I could hear him breaking a few sticks below me but he just wouldn't crest the hill. I didn't know what to do. I think he had some cows and he pushed them up the draw, because I heard him bugle a couple more times and each time he was further up."

"Darn-it! Maybe we'll try to add a bugle to the situation and see if that fires him up?"

We threw a bugle out and nothing responded. Darkness quickly descended upon us and our hunt was over.

The archery season had kicked our butts this year. The sudden influx of tons of hunters had clearly altered the behavior of the elk or simply pushed the elk into pockets where no one would find them, including us. I did, however, discover a few locations I am anxious to try next year. 

Deer

It had been numerous years since I've taken a mule deer. Not for lack of trying or opportunities, it's just that over the years I've developed a high standard. Every year I've had numerous opportunities to shoot 2 and 3 pointers but I just can't seem to pull the trigger. This drives some of my hunting buddies nuts, who would be happy just to have the meat. But every year I've seen at least one giant or very respectable buck. It's the unsuccessful encounters with the big guys that keep me coming back and not wanting to settle for a young buck.

The deer season started like all the others; high aspirations to finally connect with a mature buck. But upon my arrival at deer camp, I felt the tell tale signs I was coming down with a virus. I hiked several miles the first day and by nightfall, my body ached pretty bad. I debated whether to return home or stick it out. I decided to stay; might as well be sick and hunting than sick and bored on the couch at home. 

Bryce arrived the second morning. We did a slow creep of a hunt along the top edge of a massive drainage. We spotted some does early on but nothing else until close to the end of the hike. We had peered into who knows how many small draws without a deer sighting. But on "peer" number gazillion, my eyes immediately spotted a deer below me at 200 yards.  Big buck! Unfortunately he had seen or heard me, because he immediately took off. I tried to stop him but he was too old and smart to fall for that. 

Ryan arrived that night. I was still feeling sick, but luckily it hadn't gotten any worse. I could tell I still had a fever and my nose was running. As long as I didn't hike too hard and continued to take symptom masking drugs, it wasn't too bad. 

Overall we hadn't seen a ton of deer sign where we normally do but we suspected it was because there had been domestic sheep in the area. In my experience, deer and elk hate sheep. Ryan and I decided to hike a closed road in a slightly different area. It paid off. Immediately, we were into a lot of deer sign. We came around the second corner of the road and Ryan spotted the white butt of a deer below us. We froze and began scanning the bushes below us. More and more deer began to materialize. So far they all appeared to be does and had no idea we were watching them. I crept over to a more open area where I'd have a shooting lane if I saw a buck. Ryan stayed where he was. I got into a prone position and began scanning the group of deer. Doe...doe...doe... doe...wait...buck! One of the deer below us had antlers: a two point. Ryan and I were far enough apart we couldn't communicate. It wasn't a large deer, but it was a legal one. I could hear my wife's voice in my ear. "Don't get too picky! We need meat!" The buck stepped out of the bushes and gave me a broadside shot. I suppose it would be nice to get some meat in camp, and this would be a super easy pack-out. I know Ryan or Bryce would shoot this...I could blame this decision on my feverish condition... BOOOM!!! I squeezed the trigger. The deer bolted downhill and disappeared from view. The 150 yard shot felt good.

Ryan walked over to me. "Glad you shot. I think there might have been 2 small bucks in there. I was waiting for a clear shot on one of them."

"I would have had you shoot this one but we were too far apart to communicate," I added. "Let's go find him."

We slowly walked down to where I had last seen him. A short distance later I came upon a dead deer. It felt good to get some deer meat in camp but this buck was far from the standard I'd set for myself. At least I would be coming home with some meat.

Ryan and I quartered him up and began the pack out. What the "meat hunters" don't tell you about shooting small bucks, is the difference in quantity of meat. This deer had to have half the amount of meat of a mature buck. Oh well, at least it'll be tender. 

The next day we returned to the same area. Around lunch time we spotted some deer across the canyon from us. We all began to glass with our binoculars, picking apart the mountain-side. There! A buck. I spotted a decent 4 point at 400 yards. Ryan said he was dialed at that range. He made his scope adjustments and settled into a prone position for a shot. Some errors were made somewhere along the line because he took 3 shots and the deer showed no signs of being hit. Ryan just looked at his gun with amazement and confusion. We trekked over to where the deer had been and found no signs of a hit. A disappointing turn of events for sure. 

Ryan had to return home but Bryce and I had another day. We hiked into a slightly different area and found lots of deer sign and a group of several fawns, but that was it. 

Late season elk

Ryan chose to get a late season rifle elk tag in the same area we hunted archery. I told him I'd join him so he wouldn't have to hunt alone. Ryan  also found the help of Luke, a guy in his early 20's just getting into hunting. Luke picked up a tag and joined us on the mountain. 

We spent several days hiking old roads and checking the usual haunts where we've had elk encounters. So far we'd struggled to spot live elk. We found fresh sign in the snow but couldn't get on them. This country is really thick, so glassing was difficult. Every day we spotted bucks, but that was because the deer season was closed, of course! 

On the last evening of the last day, Ryan felt drawn to a certain area. After sitting and watching a promising hillside, Ryan said he wanted to check one last little valley before calling it quits. 

We slowly crept up to the small valley in the waning daylight. Ryan stopped abruptly and shouldered his gun. I froze, staring at him. Did he see something? I slowly looked out into the valley and saw an elk about 150 yards away. BOOOM!!! The elk collapsed in it's tracks. 

"Luke, Luke, there's another bull!" Ryan whispered excitedly.

Luke crept over to where Ryan was standing and got ready for a shot. The other bull was looking over at it's fallen companion but started to show signs he was about to bolt. I began cow calling, freezing the other bull. Luke found a good rest on his bipod and squeezed the trigger. BOOOM!!! The other bull dropped.

"I think you spined him. Shoot him again!" I said, looking through my binoculars. 

BOOOM!!! Luke fire a second shot through the elk's neck, finishing the elk. 

Two bulls down! We couldn't believe it. We all celebrated and thanked the Lord for providing at the last minute. 

It was a long night of quartering and meat packing, but luckily the majority of it was on a mostly flat, closed road.

We returned home to finish cutting and packaging the meat. Luke was captivated by every moment of the hunt and I know he'll now be hooked for life. It was so rewarding to help a new hunter with his first elk. 

The season had its ups and downs, but I was blessed with a deer and elk meat from my generous friends. Now for 10 long months of anticipation for next season...

 

Hunting Big Yellowstone Cutties

Eastern Idaho, summer 2023

My best friend Camron has been fly fishing with me since I can remember. He and I have pursued this sport with an obsessed passion. We've each taken different roads, leading us from one fly fishing high to the next; our career choices sometimes feeling like only a means to an end, so we can fly fish more. Camron recently took an even bigger step in the fly fishing world, designing and manufacturing his own fly rods and reels. Streem Outdoors is his company and they make fantastic, high performance fly rods and reels at an affordable price. His direct to consumer model allows him to offer the best prices to his customers. I couldn't be more excited for him.

So when Camron asked me where we could go to get some great Idaho scenery while attempting to film big, wild trout eating dry flies, I knew just the place. This river has a special place in my heart, because it always produces at least a few giant Yellowstone Cutthroats each time I've fished it. Big, migratory and wild fish are not on every bank and riffle, but that's what makes it special; the hunt.

Katie and I made the long trek, arriving late afternoon. We set camp and then drove up the road to gaze at the stream, check some huckleberry patches and maybe spot a moose. We found a few berries but nothing worth more than grazing on. Camron wouldn't meet us until the following day.

I awoke early the next morning, eager to wet a line and see what the stream had to offer. I recently created a new realistic hopper pattern, so I tied that on first. It was just the beginning of grasshopper season and we'd already seen plenty hopping in the grass; all sizes and colors.

   

I made my way quietly into the stream. The banks were lined with tall willows and grass over my head, making traveling along the banks nearly impossible. I gently waded upstream to a nice overhanging bush. The current slowly drifted my hopper along its edge when... SHHLURP! The subtle take of a wary old cutthroat made my heart skip a beat. I set the hook and was pleasantly surprised to find a quality fish on my line. This is why we came here!

This stream is more spring creek like than most of the western rivers I fish. Sure there's boulders and riffles here and there, but these big cutties prefer slow, deep corners, cut banks, logs or anywhere that's deeper than 3 feet. The water is surprisingly hard to read, but when you find a fish, it usually isn't alone. I took a few steps upstream after releasing the fish and made a cast closer to the middle of the river. SHHRLURP! Another dandy fish took my hopper. 

I caught 4 fish on this corner, finishing with one around 20 inches. Not a bad start!

I walked back to camp with pleasant news for Katie. "There's fish down there." I said with a mischievous smile.

Katie got her waders on and we tried a few spots downstream. Once again, it wasn't until we found just the right type of water that we found fish. The stream made a turn, carving out a deep channel on the inside bend that pushed into a bank with overhanging bushes. Yep, this water looks fishy!

A fish rose just upstream of us, revealing its location and size, another large golden cutty. Katie slowly worked her casts upstream until the first fish ate; a smallish fish. We quickly released it. She was then onto a larger fish, approximately 16 inches. 

Katie had a few more eats on that corner but the action slowed. We were able to really see the topography of the run and knew there had to be more fish in there; a later return to this spot was a must. 

Camron arrived later that day, after Katie and I tried the upper stretches of the stream without much luck. 

We ate an early dinner and then hit the water. We each took turns casting and filming each other's drifts, hoping to capture that exciting moment when a fish comes and eats your fly. We covered a fair amount of water before Camron grabbed the first fish. It was fairly small but it came out of a large, deep run. Camron handed the rod to me to try. He had his 9ft 5wt, Moby series rod rigged up and I admit, it felt wonderful in my hands. I launched a cast upstream and began twitching my fly slowly as it drifted back downstream toward me. SHHLURP! A big cutty came up and inhaled the fly, immediately thrashing on the surface.

 

"Ooooh, this is a nice fish!" I said, as the fish took off for a run. 

"This is what we came here for!" Camron commented as he grabbed my net. After a great battle he scooped the 20 inch fish in the net.

We sent the old beast on it's way and Katie was up next. Katie had several eats and hookups but sadly we couldn't get one in the net. We continued on upstream.

We made our way to a split in the stream. I spotted a rise at the top of a run just before it pushed into a deep wooded bank. I offered the rod to Katie but she declined. I shot a cast upstream and the fish immediately took. The battle was short and the 15 inch fish popped off; a casualty of barbless hooks.

We ended the evening at a promising run, but couldn't put a big fish in the net. 

We awoke the next morning to rain. Camron and I waded numerous bends in an untouched section of the river, only to walk away with a couple of unsuccessful eats. The cooler rainy weather in the morning clearly had impacted the hopper bite.

The weather had stabilized by the early afternoon and we fished some other sections of water with Katie. We found ourselves at a deep corner with logs. Katie fished for a while but for some reason the fish liked my touch as I had 3 eats from big cutties here; one of which was nearly off the tip of the rod. All came after little twitches of the hopper. 

Young Leopard frogs were numerous in the grass near the river banks.

We beat the water the next few hours finding very little action. We caught a few small fish but it was clear the big fish were spread out, favoring very specific locations. 

We returned to camp, ate dinner and Camron and I returned to the stream for some evening redemption. We found ourselves at the corner where Katie had landed a few the day before. With the hole already scouted, we could now fish it effectively. Luckily for us, the fish cooperated. Camron put his first big cutty of the trip in the net!  

We slowly continued around the corner, hooking numerous fish; many in the 15-20 inch range. We had more eats that night than we had all day leading up to this. It was a good thing we decided to come out that evening!

The last morning, Camron and I went out again fishing a new beat of water. The action was slow, but we finished at a promising deep cutbank. 

"Cam, we better head back after this. I'll need to pack up camp soon." I said, as I climbed onto a log to film this promising water.

Camron threw a long cast quartered upstream and began twitching his hopper as it drifted. SHHLURP! A massive cutty downed his hopper and the fight was on. The big fish thrashed on the surface, trying it's best to shake the hook. Camron was ecstatic; this fish was big! I made my way out to him and got ready to net the fish. Pop! The rod came back at Cam and so did his fly, the fish had shook the hook. 

"Darn!" Camron slunk with big fish depression.

Unfortunately, our time was up and we had to head back to the real world. It had been a fun trip hunting big Yellowstone Cutthroats. We captured some cool footage, only motivating us to return again; chasing the next fly fishing high. 

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