’78-2011 Henry’s Fork Revived

Curtains of rain hover north of us toward Sawtell as evening thunderclouds build along the Yellowstone Plateau toward the Grand Tetons (named as “big breasts” by the mountain men who rendezvoused here when whites first trapped in the Rockies). We start to fish the grass- and weed-filled knee-deep wading flats below Osborne Springs on the 16-Mile road near Last Chance, Idaho.

My companion Chuck Eberly looms upstream in the darkening shadows, fishing to large rainbows dimpling here and there, taking, we hope, the Rusty ants floating along the glassy surface of the Fork. Our 6X tippets on 12-foot leaders may suffice if our presentations are down and across-current, with a slight curve and a long reach to extend a drift from 9 to 12 feet to the selectively feeding ‘bows below and to the right.

Sawtell Mountain overlooks the Henry’s fork (south), Centennial Valley (north) and the south rim of Yellowstone Park (east). John Randolph photo

A flock of 100-200 mallards gabbles and dabbles below the fish, in the shallows feeding greedily as night falls over the Fork and the sun dips below the mountains to the West and South of Sawtell. The ducks will shadow and threaten the happy dimpling of our feeding trout, but now I am riveted in the stalk of one large snout, rising and lowering languidly in the dark liquid film below me.

Is he taking rising PMD emergers just beneath the film or the cinnamon-colored winged ants riding on the meniscus, where they float, swept there in their mating flights by the winds from the rainstorm to the north?

Or are the fish taking late-season PMD wiggle nymphs that float by me to the left and right, their tiny black legs wriggling spasmodically as they desperately struggle to escape the glassy ceiling of the meniscus? Do I have a yellow-bodied #18 imitation with a cdc wing to match them? Can I tie a 6X tippet on before the sun tips below the horizon and brings deep shadows to the river? Will my flip-focals allow me to insert the tiny tippet end into the minute hook eye?

I lift the cinnamon ant to the sky and the tippet end toward its eye and peer upward through the flip-focal lenses, attempting to insert the end into the eye. I miss and try again, then again, and again until the 6X filament slides through and above the eye.

I touch the tippet end above the hook eye to my lips to feel it, then bite it with my teeth and pull until 8 inches of tippet are hanging free. Then I carefully make 6-7 twists of the tippet around the standing end, (pausing now and then to observe the large head rising and falling in the film below).

I insert the tag end through the tippet the tippet vee just above the hook eye, wet the wraps with saliva and pull gently until the fine mono wraps slides easily down toward the hook eye and snug firmly into a knot. I hold the tippet line in my left hand and the hook between the index finger and thumbs of my right and pull gently but firmly with my right until I am satisfied the knot closes and will not fail.

This ritual is a necessary ablution, a semi-religious ceremony to boost my confidence in the act of presentation that will follow. Knot failure carries with it the curse of the amateur among the ranks of the Henry’s Fork regulars, the high priests of the fly-fishing professionals.

Satisfied, but apprehensive after ten year’s absence from these holy waters and their Ph.D trout, I prepare to present the fly.

I cast down and across to a point above the head and the riseform that spreads in ever widening rings outward across the stream surface, slightly overpowering the cast so the fly will extend at a light upward angle, hit the line end and pop back upcurrent, creating S-curves in the tippet as it settles gently to the surface two feet above the head.

A gust of wind (from right to left) pushes the cast leftward. The fly settles three feet to the left of the head. I let it drift downstream, lift and prepare to recast. But a piece of grass hangs on the fly, and it whistles in the air as I backcast upstream.

I catch the line, remove the grass and dry the fly on my chamois patch, dry it further in my dry-shake bottle, grease it with floatant, and prepare to cast again.

The trout head is gone; the ducks gabble, quack, and paddle over the rising fish and put them down. I pop-off three large trout and land two small fish this evening.

Shine Scares Trout

The sun hits the horizon and its rays flash like daggers across the upper 16-Mile, sparkling off the rod guides, my reel metal, my glasses, and illuminates my yellow line in the evening glow. The nearby schools of dimpling trout disappear.

Henceforth, on future outings here, I will camouflage my rod and reels to approach these wary hard-fished feeders, and I will wear a sun mask to conceal my glasses glare and to protect my face from sunburn.

The 16-Mile shallows are wade-fished daily, morning and evening, by as many as 20 expert fly fishers, all of whom stalk feeding trout. Wading must be extremely slow moving and presentations of the fly made after long observation of feeding fish to ascertain whether they are taking subsurface, in or on the meniscus film.

Casts should be pop-back, mini-parachutes, right or left reach, (depending on trout feeding positions) employing 12-foot minimum leaders lengths and 6X tippets from 4’ to 10’, depending on wind conditions. And 7X tippets may be required, depending on the difficulty of the trout repeated fly refusals of the fly, for example. Knots must be carefully tied and rechecked, for knot failures are common.

Hatches

Late-season hatches may include Honey Ants, Mahoganies, winged black ants (with white wing), hoppers, Baetis, PMDs (in a variety of stages from nymph, to emerger and dun) or the other terrestrials, including a variety of beetles (Lawson’s black especially). By far the best advice on fly selection comes from veteran guides and flyshops: Henry’s Fork Anglers, Trout Hunter, and Orvis.

Trout feeding selections may vary widely from day to day, but summer selections often favor the various stages of the PMD, with the emerger a favorite of Rene Harrop, whose CDC emerger patterns are a legendary favorite for most Henry’s Fork regulars. On the other hand, June/July large-fly hatches—Brown and Green Drakes—draw crowds of veteran ranch anglers to the mud-bottomed flats .5 mile below Millionaire’s Pool.  (The Railroad Ranch waters traditionally open for fishing on July 15.)

In spring/summer 2011, high waters on the Yellowstone Plateau-region rivers restricted fishing until early August, leaving the controlled-flow waters of the Henry’s Fork the sole refuge of the expert dry-fly anglers, with the exception of the Livingston/Bozeman spring creeks.

A Morning With René and Bonnie

The Harrop presentation touch is alive and well. (René has retired from his partnership in the successful Trout Hunter flyshop with Rich Paini and associates.)

Sept. 13, 2011. We meet René and Bonnie, riding close together as usual in their white pick-up on lower 16-Mile across from Pine Haven village. About 10 fishers are presenting their flies to large and small trout dimpling the water from the bend downstream to the cliffs,  each spaced apart to work a fish they have located, taking primarily emergers under the surface, under a bright sun-lit dome of blue, with creamy cumulus clouds building to the north and east from Sawtell peak to the Yellowstone Plateau rim.

Bonne and René Harrop are as iconic on the Henry's Fork as the fence line on the Harriman Ranch. John Randolph photo

The pungent smell of wet morning sage, drifts across the water as we wade west-to-east across the autumn-cold, hip-deep silent laminar flows of lower 16-Mile, step up on the lava-bouldered east bank, and at 9 A.M. join Rene and Bonnie to chat and search up and downstream for telltale large-fish humped-water, toilet flushes, hog-wallowing snouts, complex head-dorsal-and-tail rises, or sipping dimple rises.

René suggests we spread out and each stake out a fish and do our own things to catch large ‘bows feeding selectively and happily in the drift.

Over three hours, René hooks three large trout and lands one of about 18 inches and round with summer feeding (about three pounds with two pounds of weed trailing). Two or the large trout escape by diving into the weeds, fighting downstream well into the backing before breaking off.

No other angler on that reach (within sight) hooked or landed a fish. In three hours René never moved more than 10 feet from his position in mid-thigh water. That is a signature behavior of René Harrop: He spends 80% of his fishing time hunting and observing large trout and 20% presenting his flies to the fish. In his observation periods he examines aquatic insects in the drift closely. He observes: “We know much about the Pale Morning Dun’s lifestyle; we cannot imitate its wriggling emergence motions with our flies, however, and for selectively-feeding trout the live insect is easy to differentiate from our inert imitation. Fortunately, trout occasionally make mistakes and eat the imposter.”

Bonnie is his constant companion and photographer (See René’s latest classic book Learning From the Water from Stackpole Books). She also ranks among the top Ranch professional hatch-matchers in the modern era. She quietly describes her husband’s devotion to fly fishing as “possessed.” The Harrops are an American team treasure, and they are still active in their pursuit of perfection in a game of wits and fly-tying art to understand and outwit nature’s most elegant, beautiful, wild, and wary trout.

Fly Presentation

Fly presentation on the Henry’s Fork, and particularly the Railroad Ranch and Wood Road 16 stretches, requires the most sophisticated casting in the fly-fishing world for trout. Why is this true? Because of the myriad complex currents that conspire to drag dry flies before they can reach target trout. Presentations require complex casting strokes and great casting accuracy that are beyond the capabilities of all but the most experienced and proficient casters. Experience on the ranch water is the high prize of the world’s best, and advanced-beginner, fly fishers, which makes it America’s fly-fishing iconic water.

Return of the Henry’s Fork

The return of the Ranch trout fishing is a four-year headline event that escaped notice for all but the most dedicated veterans. The ‘80s and ‘90s witnessed the decline of the Ranch large-trout fishery for a variety of complex environmental reasons, including the loss of winter young-of-the-year trout habitat (including low flows and anchor-ice.) But in the last four years the big  rainbows have returned, and veteran fly anglers have quietly returned as well. Photos of large ‘bows and browns taken and released once more decorate shop counters, fishing spirits are high, guides are busy, and fly bins are nearly empty by September.

The great Ranch hatch-matchers of yesteryear—including Ernie Schwiebert, Swisher/Richards and the many famous guides and shop owners, still living and deceased—wrote modern dry-fly fishing history on this water. That history is still being written there by the best-of-the-best dry-fly fishers in the world.

Henry’s Fork Tips

By late season, much of the Ranch and Wood Road 16 water is full of weed and filamentous algae (both growing and floating). When you hook a large trout, it will often dive into the weed and break you off. The only wade-fishing answer (an imperfect one) is to make a steady pull backwards on the downstream fish in the hope that it will eventually free itself from the weed and attempt to escape. This is at best 30 percent successful.

Wade Slowly

You should spend hours searching (with your eyes, using polarized sun glasses) from the banks (stay away from the bank edges, or you will flush bank-feeders) for a large trout. Then plan how you will fish to it. When approaching the trout, do so by wading very slowly from down or a cross-stream at a 45-degree angle: Stop and observe, then wade a step, stop and observe, wade a step, then stop and plan your fly presentation. Wading close to a large trout (to within 30 feet) allows you to reduce variables in your fly presentations (or poor casting) across confusing, dragging-inducing currents.

Once you’ve established your casting position, stay there. Movement—and wading sounds in the water–are the warning signals to trout. When the trout takes your fly, lift and slip-line tighten the fly in the fish’s mouth. Strike break-offs are a common occurrence here. Nothing improves your success on the Henry’s Fork dry-fly water more than practicing accuracy casting (into a small ring-hoop or your hat) on your lawn, in both calm weather and wind. Expect wind every day on the Fork (9 A.M. to 5 P.M.).