More, Man!

Dates: September 22-25, 2009
Location: Blue, Berry, Robo
Air temp: 70s
Water temp: ?
Hatches: ?
Fish landed: A few here and there

Present members of the Fly Anglers Guild :|: Upper Midwest Chapter, for this outing were:

B Chubnut
Fruit Booter
Xan

The thing I like about end of summer trips is that you get to look forward to them all summer. The trip's main purpose was to attend the nuptials of our old friends Tokyo Drift and The Naz. However, given the location (and no Montana trip this year), some tweaks to the itinerary were made, and fishing was added to the agenda.

Through our research leading up to this, we concluded we should fish two rivers. We'll call them the "Blue" and the "Robo." During Chubnut's research (calling one guide), the Blue came highly
recommended. My intensive study on the matter (a 2 page article in a free fishing magazine from Lunds) pointed to the Robo. Booter's contribution to the brain trust came from his sole experience fishing a section of the Robo. Amongst the trash strewn about, he saw a television embedded in the bank. This fact would be repeated ad nauseum for a good portion of the trip.

We finally decided to split our time. Wednesday and Thursday would be spent on the Blue, Thursday night we would drive to the Robo, and fish that on Friday morning.

9/22

So it was, Chubnut flew there on Tuesday morning, and Booter and I met up with him a few hours later. We loaded up our shitty rental car (who needs power locks, windows or engines?), and made our way out to the Blue. We got into the area about an hour before dark, and decided to try the sunset/night bite. By the time we arrived at the river, the sun was starting to disappear behind the mountains, and the hordes of drift boaters were landing their crafts. We fished till dark, with no luck. Chubbles was just downstream from me when I heard him shriek. A huge splash only a few feet away from him had caused this outburst. When Booter returned to our area, he was told of the splash and took action. Casting his streamer out to the vicinity of the disturbance, a nice fish attacked and was hooked. Booter was on the board, and so it began.

9/23

We awoke just before the dawn, which turned out to be a waste since we needed to wait for the fly shop to open. A few hours later, Booter ran down to the shop to purchase a new pair of waders. After many years of service (probably about 7 or 8 fishing days total), his waders were letting in more water than they kept out. That or it was urine. Either way, it was time for an update. One swanky pair of Simms later, we were off to the river.

With daylight on our side, we headed upstream to explore the water. River access was well laid out in the area, with nice trails and occasional boardwalks all along the bank. The river seemed similar to the Madison in terms of size. Unfortunately, the "not catching many fish" part was also similar. All day we toiled under bright skies on clear water. We each caught a few fish, some were even decent, but they were hard earned, and came over the course of an entire day.

9/24

Since the previous day sucked balls, we changed plans and headed out to the Robo. Along the way, we stopped at a small stream recommended to us by a fly shop guide. This was prime 3wt territory, but the scenery was magnificent. We were surrounded by towering rock structures as the river twisted through the canyon. The fish were small, as was to be expected, but it was a nice break from the big water.

After lunch, we continued on to the Robo. We arrived near dusk, and fished till dark. The river reminded me a lot of the Gallatin, decent sized, but wadable. The place was crawling with other anglers, and we made our way upstream, with little success. Our nymphs were cleaning the masses of plant life from the bottom. Despite this, there was a cautious optimism for the next morning. The river was a good size, accessibility was good, and there were many fishy looking spots.

9/25

One last shot at Utah's rivers. We went back to the Robo, but went downstream this time. The three of us started fishing a long run. Near the head, Chubbers and Bootie started to land fish here and there. Small zebra midges and scuds seemed to be doing the trick. After many casts and a few more fish, we continued downstream and came upon a pool. Casting his zebra midge into said pool, Chubnut hooked into a nice fish.

And so it went all day. Those who used tiny nymphs (#20 or smaller) caught fish. Those that did not (me), struggled all day. Near the end of the day, as we were fishing our way back to the car, we arrived at the pool where Chub had landed his first nice fish of the day. Seeing my frustration, Chubnut lent me a small zebra midge to try. I tied it on as a dropper, added some weight, and set to work. After more fruitless casting, I was given five final casts. Cast one: nothing. Two: nadda. Three: same. Four: couple flies floating down the river. Cinco: bam! At the buzzer, a decent/ok fish was on. After a bit of a fight, I brought him to net, and that was the end of our Utah fishing adventure.