Last weekend, I was trying to hike into a remote river, but we had some medical emergencies (I got a cactus stuck inside an artery in my leg, or something like that) so that trip didn't result in any fish.
This weekend, however, I got together with a good buddy of mine, Dallin, and we decided it was time to go bushwhack our way into some pristine country in search of some brook trout. Before today, I hadn't caught any brook trout in 2014.
We parked the truck to begin our cross-country trek right as the sun was lighting the sky up with its soft morning rays.
On the way up the canyon, we ran into a couple herds of elk. Both herds had 3 or 4 bulls each, with massive racks for this time of year. Anyone lucky enough to draw an elk tag for this area come fall is going to go home with a trophy bull elk. Sadly, I couldn't get any decent pictures of the elk. The second herd of them was crossing the road where we parked the truck, and there must have been 50 or so elk just tromping through the grass together.
Our destination lay in these foothills, and we began our trek onward. Dallin led the way, and I followed as fast as my out of shape self would allow.
I had to stop and take a moment to admire the handiwork of the beavers of the area. We saw a few fish rise in these ponds on our way up to higher waters.
After a good 20 minute hike in the crisp, clear morning air, we arrived at the lake where we hoped to find some nice brook trout. Dallin was happy.
We had the lake to ourselves for a while, and we got right to fishing. I set up shop on the west shore, while Dallin was across from me on the east bank. We both tied on some trusty jigs, which any self-respecting trout fisherman should never leave home without, and got to fishing.
I was tossing a jig behind some rocks in some deep water about 15 feet off shore. I popped the jig off the bottom twice, then I felt a nice sharp tug. I set the hook, and I could tell I had a real decent one on the end of the line.
"I got one!" I hollered to Dallin. He laid down his pole and started making his way over to me to help me land the trout.
Now, I was standing on about 2 feet of snow, and I had neglected to bring a net. So, I had to loosen the drag quite a bit, and walk the fish towards the shallow end of the lake, avoiding rocks and logs and all sorts of snags.
The fish rose every now and again, and I could see the pink coloration that marked it as a brook tout. Already, our trip was a success.
Finally, after a good five minutes or so, I got the fish to hand. Dallin was kind enough to snap this photo.
I didn't weigh or measure the fish - after the fight, I wanted to get it back into the water quickly so it could recover and swim off. Based on how the fish oozes out of my hands, I'd say it's between 3 and 4 pounds. An absolutely gorgeous brook trout!
Talk about girth! It filled my hands up nicely.
After that catch, we were eager to get into more big fish. Sadly, the bite disappeared right after that. I caught a little cutthroat that wriggled away before this photo op, and Dallin pulled in a few smaller cutts as well. Other people on the lake pulled in a few decent brookies, but beyond this nice one I caught, I didn't catch anything else of size all day long.
I did get some nice scenery shots, though.
At 2, Dallin and I decided to call it a day. We began the hike down back to the truck. Now, the hillside below this lake is just sopping wet with beaver ponds and small streams. A lot of the streams are trickles of water that don't look like they hold life. A few, however, had some small cutthroat swimming around in them. It was amazing to see fish living in such small amounts of water.
The trip was well needed and well worth it. I'm starting a new job on Monday, and I don't know what my schedule will be in terms of fishing. Hopefully, I can still get out as often as I have lately.
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