There were several different fishing techniques to be tried. I started out near the road where sections of deeper water called for a little streamer action. As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, I haven’t been very successful with streamers but thought I would try these fish-like imitations once again. I even tied on a black wooly bugger that I tied myself for good luck.

The warm breeze interfered with my concentration and I found myself distracted by the scenery that surrounded me. A pair of Canada Geese that I mistaked for eagles were fighting or mating in the distance. I flushed a blue heron and listened to the red-winged blackbirds annoyed at me for intruding in their territory.

The afternoon passed quickly without another angler in sight and my stomach growled as I thought of yet another great dinner that Dana would whip up being the great cook that she is. Even so, I wanted to check out one more hot spot that I needed to drive to. As I passed by the river, the lighting was such that you could see right to the bottom of the river and I spotted dozens of fish feeding. Dinner would have to wait.

I re-rigged my line as a simple nymph setup so I could get down to the river as quickly as possible. I had already taken off my waders and decided that I didn’t have time to go through that rigamarole. I pulled on my fishing boots which are purposely large enough to accommodate socks and waders so not a great fit without. I slogged down to the river feeling like a child in her parents’ shoes. As I slipped down a very reed-filled bank I ran into barbed wire. Damn. I could still spot lots of fish feeding and I didn’t want to go back and search for an area that would allow me to easily get over the fence. Bad idea.

I snagged my pants, then my net, then my line and ended up taking another ten minutes or more trying to extricate myself from my self-imposed mess. I finally found myself clear of the fence by falling down on the other side. OK, now I was ready to catch my first big fish of the day. I tried to be stealthy as I approached the river knowing that the fish were easily spooked. With oversized, unfilled boots, this was not to be. I finally got to a spot where I felt sure I would find a fish and cast a dozen or so times. I knew after that many casts any fish that would have been feeding was now under cover. Pull back. Trudge along. New spot. Same issue.

I noticed another hole that I could fish only from the opposite side of the bank. I knew my feet would get cold in the water if I crossed the stream, but I would be heading back soon anyway. I took a couple steps into the river and went to lift up my back foot when I discovered I had found cement-like sand. The thick mud captured my feet and there was no way I was going anywhere. Somewhere in the recesses of my memory I recalled that the only escape from this situation was to get down on my knees and work my way out that way. Without my waders on I wasn’t too excited about this approach, but I really didn’t have a choice. After another 10-15 minutes I found myself bank on the reed-covered sod.

At this point, twilight had fallen and I knew I had missed out on any opportunity to get a fish. I was cold and ready to admit defeat.  There were lots of lessons on this day – not only about fishing but life.

As highlighted in my Guide of the Week section, Shawn Saunders and I spent several days together including one on the Fremont. He has created a video that highlights what a day is like on the Fremont.

Wind is no stranger to southern Utah and the first day on the river proved to be next to impossible to fish. Instead we explored the incredibly beautiful surroundings of the Fremont including Capitol Reef National Park and I put together a plan for my next few days on the river.

Some people wonder how this national park got its name. There is an interesting explanation for this. The “Capitol” comes from the white domes of the Navajo Sandstone along the Fremont River that most definitely replicate the look of our domes in our Capitol. The “Reef” depicts the barrier-type rocky cliffs that inhibit travel. It is well named as you will find when you navigate through these deeply eroded canyons containing Kayenta and Windgate Sandstone as well as Gray Mancos Shale.

Hopefully the wind will subside and I can head down to the portion of the Fremont known as the Bicknell Flats.

+: Incredible Geology besides the Fremont

Δ: Need more time to learn about it

I don’t think I saw any land in Utah that wasn’t surrounded by barbed wire fences and this was no exception. In strategic places, there is ladder-type contraption that allows you to get over the barbed wire and I happenstanced on one. I walked for 10 minutes or so until I found a place where I could get down the steep banks to the river.

I found myself significantly downstream from the dam, which meant that the flow was less hearty. I started wading upstream hoping to find deeper water and more spots where I might find a fish. The thickets next to the stream were significant and entangled my line several times. I expected to be alone for the day, but I was surprised when I heard some voices upriver from me.  As it turns out my company was a bunch of late teens who were higher than kites and very into the “f” word. It didn’t take me but a minute to decide to turn around and go back downstream.

I knew the fishing would be more difficult, especially due to these last few few years of drought. As it turns out, the biggest problem did not turn out to be finding fishing holes but rather navigating through the downed branches and river soil that was like quicksand. In fact, many of the rivers in southern Utah have this quicksand-like problem. (More about that in a future post.)

I cast to some snarly spots and was fairly successful in landing my fly in opportune spots. I had some lightning hits and lost a couple flies but no success. Late in the afternoon feeling some pressure to leave some time to get back to my car,  I spotted one last little waterfall with a fairly deep hole after it. I decided to put a little weight on my line and throw an egg pattern. After a few casts I noticed a flash of white but still no hooks. I couldn’t gauge the depth of the hole but decided that perhaps I should try taking the weight off my line and tying on a bead-head nymph. The bead on the fly serves as a weight and I thought it might more precisely imitate the depth of the insects in the water column. I knew I had to do the perfect cast so as not to get tangled. Remarkably I did and then STRIKE! I had a fish on. As it turns out, it was a very small rainbow, but it didn’t matter. I quickly released it back to its home and found myself feeling pretty proud. I had started to understand the multitude of factors that need to come together to be understand life on a river. Don’t worry this won’t go to my head. I have a lot more to learn…

+: Sited Dozens of Fish like this.

Δ: Didn’t catch a one!

After completing over 1000 endurance miles in 2012, Dana and her horse were awarded the American Endurance Ride Conference (AERC) National Featherweight Pioneer Award for the season.  The Pioneer Awards are sponsored by Belesemo Arabians and are awarded annually to horse-rider teams who complete all consecutive days of AERC sanctioned multi-day endurance events. Talk about women following their passion.

I have had the privilege of parking my camper on her breath-taking ranch, writing inside her beautiful home and solidifying a new friendship. Thanks much, Dana!

+: The view from SCAMP.

Δ: Too windy to go outside.

Nickum states, “Perhaps the most common anthropomorphic belief is attributing pain and fear to hooked fish that are struggling to escape.” Most certainly if a hook penetrates human skin there is pain associated with it, but to make the leap that fish feel that same pain is not in line with neurobiology.

He goes on to explain that pain is a psychological experience and in order to feel pain, you must have the part of the brain that interprets pain. We all know people who can have extensive dental work done and not have a need for any anesthetic. Pain is certainly differently just within the human species.

It makes sense to me that when a human is given medication that blocks the passage of the stimulus and thus feels no pain, that a fish could not have that part of the brain that allows it to experience pain. For humans, it is essential to have pain signals in order to prevent ourselves from injury. For fish, living in water, their survival requires different capabilities.  What gets confusing for many people is seeing the fish struggle when hooked. This struggle is not because of the pain but is rather escape behavior.

Returning to the non catch and release movement in Europe, the goal is to do away with recreational fishing and only allow subsistence fishing. In Nickum’s opinion, “it is not acceptable to impose an individuals personal believes and personal versions of ethics on other individuals…”

This is not the first or last article I have read on this topic. If I really thought I was hurting these creatures, I would not be doing what I am.

Shawn and I fished three rivers together – the Sevier, the Beaver and the Fremont. The Sevier is near Bryce and Zion National Parks and the Fremont takes you through Capital Reef. These are some of the most beautiful spots in the country.

After fishing long leaders, 4x tippet and nymphs the last few months, Shawn reminded me of a different style of fishing – looking for big browns in smaller streams with streamers. I had a lot of fun trying although I still haven’t caught a fish on a streamer yet. Just unlucky days I suppose… Thanks for showing me beautiful southern Utah.

In the case of the Beaver, the river runs through private land right below the dam. As it turns out, my guide had access to the river through this private property so it was a double whammy – tailwater fishing but not over-fished by the public. It was really fun to catch lots of fish – made me feel like I was starting to figure this out. To be honest, most of the fish that I caught were under 10 inch rainbows, but I was able to catch some hefty 15 – 18 inchers, which made the day even more exciting.

The property had it all – goats, horses, chickens, fields ready to be planted, a huge pole barn, a beautiful log cabin and a kindly gentleman owner. The property had been in the hands of the same family for many generations. They actually owned many miles of the Beaver downstream from their ranch, which they opened up to the public.

I will go back to that part of the river and see if I can figure out the logic that abounds in the natural world.