The Epical 2025 Fishing Yarns and Photo Thread

[Rasputin]

The skies were cloudy all day, and the water never got warmer that 65 degrees. NOAAs forecast discussion called the weather unusual, and I made the most of it, starting fishing around 7:30 am, and finishing up a bit after 8 pm. I fished a couple different rivers, and a couple different access points. My back aches from casting, and my feet are sore from wading and walking on rocks, but I caught a bunch of fish, and will now bomb the thread with pics of the best of them.

[Rasputin]

Got up early and still got on the river kinda late, but I caught a few, including a fat 18 incher.

[John_B]

Solo salmon fishing doesn't make for the best fish pics but it does make for some good sunrises! Now if I could just catch one with the right amount of fins!

[lifelinksplit]

Nice fish. I really need to start taking more actual fish pics. Took the dogs for a hike to a nice alpine lake with pretty healthy cutts averaging 14in. Nice views of the Pintlers through the old burn.

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[Rasputin]

I've been trying to adjust myself to getting up early to fish when the water is cooler, but it isn't working as well as I would like. There is only about eight hours of dark a night, and that means I need to get to sleep soon after sunset to get an OK night's sleep, and when I wake up at 6am, when ideally I would be out on the river drifting dries, I am groggy and slow to get ready. This means I usually am unable to get out there much before 8am, and have the feeling that I missed the best part of the day.

However, the God of fly fishing is good to me, and will send me a fish when I most need it, as an answer to the crescendo of my outpouring of angst at my angling inadequacy.

Most recently I have been nursing sore toes on my left foot when I spend hours slopping on the rocks in my wading boots (there was an exceptional bloom of what I call troll's hair algae this spring, and it has made the wading particularly challenging at times). They were really bothering me by the end of yesterday's outing, so in spite of popping awake at six this morning, I chose to not go out, and hopefully after also taking Saturday off as well (while I don't know that God is against fishing on His Sabbath, I try to apply the seventh day to seeking other souls, so in congregating, combined partials can lead to a whole), with that rest, my toes will not be so sore in my boots. Last fall when frequent fishing lead to the same problem, it only ceased when I went a week without wearing shoes.

[John_B]

Got one!

[Rasputin]

Grats! Mmmm, salmon!

[plugboots]

Went from big browns, sipping size 20s to tiny cutthroats that’ll eat anything.

[Rasputin]

[Rasputin]

Yesterday's outing was blissfully cloudy and at times raining, sometimes heavily. It started out slowly, only a couple fish in the first four hours, but eventually I managed to hook up and break off two nice fish!

Well the God of fly fishing (and creator of all things) heard my cries of despair at losing said fish and sent me a long skinny fish, before another taker which again broke off in a down current surge. The day ended with the aforementioned rain and some more nice fish, as well as a small cutthroat that swallowed a Pat's so deeply, that I couldn't extract it even with the long nosed forceps I found an hour earlier; I ended up cutting it off as the regs require when the hook won't come out. The big fish of the day was so profoundly hooked in the corner of her mouth that it was difficult to remove (and yes the barb was crimped).

First fish took a pink worm dropper.



The long skinny fish had talon marks, since there were three marks, it must have been an eagle, as osprey have two sets of two opposing talons.



The large lady had some scale damage from something, it was worse on her right side.



This beauty hit hard and hooked himself when I was about to pick up my line to cast again, I love accidental catches. I'd rather be lucky than good, though both would be nice.



It's been a largely cloudy day, and I have been putting off fishing making a strawberry-rhubarb-apple crisp with dried cranberries and raisins. The water above Missoula is still only 64 degrees, so I'm going to suit up and wet a line, I'll be back later to spin a yarn, and post a pic or two if I'm blessed with fish or moved by beauty.

[Rasputin]

Not the most productive outing today, but I caught a nice cuttbow (below) and a fat cutthroat, which I didn't take a picture of because he had a messed up jaw, and the line got caught on it, and he also tried to swallow the micro chubby I was throwing, anyway, I wanted to get him back in the water more than I wanted a picture.

[Rasputin]

I returned last night from two days and two nights at "big cutthroat" creek, my favorite place to go to seek the wily West Slope Cutthroat, native to Western Montana. They are a species in decline, as they are out competed by the introduced Browns and Rainbows, and they, sharing a spawning season with Rainbow trout are cross fertilized creating the hybrid "cuttbows". However, "big cutthroat" creek still has a stock of genetically pure West Slopes, which grow to bigness in the deep pools. The West Slope sub-species don't grow as large as many other cutthroat sub-species, but they are my favorite fish to catch, for whatever reason, I just find them particularly beautiful. I showed up late in the evening on Wednesday, after wasting time waiting for a jug of water to freeze (it never quite got there) to put in my cooler to keep things cold, and making sure I had all other things needful. So I ended up with little time left in the day.

Having become set at camp, I headed down the road to "the rock wall", one of the large pools where I have caught large cutthroats on a number of occasions. The last couple hours before dark have always been the most productive time, and so I was quite optimistic that I would get some action, and maybe some big fish, however, after happily finding no one parked where I do when I fish there, I found another fisherman at the pool, and unhappily slunk away grumbling, ungraciously about how he was where I wanted to be instead of me. I headed down stream a piece, and fished a stretch where the foam line runs closely parallel to an undercut bank, and where the water is three or four feet deep. I was gratified to see fish rising as I walked down the opposing rocky beach, to where a branch across the run also seemed to be where the rising fish left off their activity. I proceeded to try many fly combinations, and to be refused with disdain, both lead fly and trailer, in my choices, by the wily cutthroats who populated such a fine stretch of water so near to the road. At a certain point, in the waning light, having settled on a combination in which I had great confidence, including a Griffith's gnat trailer, I had a large fish take the gnat hard, and my lightning hook-set yeilded me a brief tug of a heavy fish, then nothing. I cursed as I retrieved my line, berating myself for pulling it outta his mouth, but when it came back my gnat was gone. Having I tied on another one, and eventually, after much fervent prayer to preclude getting shut out on opening night, I managed to catch a small rainbow.



I left the water, thanking the God of fly fishing (oh He of tender mercy and loving kindness) that I had been blessed with even that small fish, even though, He that knows all, certainly was aware that I was not-so subtly displeased that it wasn't a cutthroat, petty of me I know.

I was up by six, and crossed the road to the nearby deep hole, where I have caught big, heavy fish on a couple occasions, however this time, though I did see sporadic rises, and even saw a large trout jump fully out of the water, the only fish I could hook was, again, a small Rainbow.



I went back to camp, drank some cold brewed green tea (I didn't want to bother with making fire or bringing a camp stove, as these things take away from fishing time, plus I ran out of coffee, and so it's what I had with caffeine), ate a bagel, and headed up to "the corner", where the creek makes an abrupt right angle turn as it runs into the road broadside, the water is deep there, and the there has often lurked good sized fish in that hole, but this time I caught none. I then headed upstream to "the fish bowl" which is the largest, and second deepest, of the pools at "big cutthroat" creek. I was leery as I approached, as folks had plopped their camp right in the middle of the trail to it, but thankfully, having avoided the front door approach, I found that they were not early rising fisher folk like me. It wasn't long before I hooked and landed my first of the gorgeous, blood red bellied coppery-olive backed cutthroats which I was seeking, though he was slender and not exactly big. I continued fishing, and later I managed to land another beautifully colored, and stoutly built West Slope. What a relief and joy, that pool was where I caught my first large cutthroat troutfish a few years back, which fired my fanatically frequent fly fishing forays (sadly, my choice to include the early sunlight in the background did nothing to illuminate the vivid coloration of both fish).







That afternoon I decided to leave the densely angler populated climes of the lower creek, and went up one of the tributory forks I scouted when I went there this spring. It is a very pretty little trout stream, with perky little trout, but sadly no really deep holes, and also I caught no cutthroats, only some little rainbows, including a very ambitious one who took my chubby, and flew straight at me at 30 mph when I knee jerk hook set him, he was stunned by my hand when I blocked the incoming fish missile like a line drive at a pitcher.



Very fishy looking undercut on the West fork of "big cutthroat creek"



That evening I made my way to "The Rock Wall" to see if I could tempt any of the larger denizens into taking a fly, but only managed to catch three smalls, and to take too much sun, leading to the oncoming headache, which was a prominent feature of the rest of the trip. After too long a time of trying, I gave up, feeling selfish to hog the hole fruitlessly, and stumbled painfully (I have had a very sore pinky toe on my left foot of late) down to where I had started my fishing efforts the night before, seeking to avenge the loss of my Griffith's gnat to a large trout the night before. I felt good about a combination which I had assembled, a #14 royal chubby chernobyl trailed by a black ant. The former manager of The Missoulian Angler was a great proponent of the black ant as a potent fish catching fly, and we are about into terrestrial season, the major hatches waning. Since the given waters run along a bank, I was certain there were ants in the water periodically. I proved both accurate and fortunate. At the end of a drift, just as I was pulling out to prevent drifting into the branch across the water, I got an eat from perhaps the same fish which took my gnat the night before (he was in the right spot anyway). A couple casts after releasing him, but a cast length upstream, I hooked and landed a slightly smaller one. W00t w00t, what a way to end a long day.





I slept long, but woke with the headache still nagging at me. after many a tearful prayer for deliverance from the pain, the God of fly fishing (and merciful healing) told me to get some caffeine in me, and go fishing, and the pain would subside, and glory behold, so it was. I again went to the "fish bowl" and after landing a small cutthroat early on an ant (having lost my initial chubby/ant set up at the end of the previous evening, I had switched to an all purple chubby/ black ant rig). I landed another stout cutthroat of the same size, but somewhat less red bellied, this time turning the fish toward the early sun for better to see its loverly colors. Afterward I worked down stream fruitlessly fishing waters that looked promising, but yielded nothing but a nice landing net, lost by some hapless fly angler which had washed up on a mid-stream island.





I'll wind down this report by saying that I went to other spots, and hooked and lost other good sized fish, one right at my feet, and another which took off up stream into the current so fast it broke off my last ant, and my second chubby of the morning, but I caught a few littles, and saw some beautiful fishy water, before returning to camp and packing up. The afternoon led to almost no action, and my headache returning (it's still lingering today), so I painfully and sadly left my beloved "big cutthroat" creek for home. The end.