Boulder Mountain - Again (and assorted other fishing)

Life has been absolutely nuts these past two weeks, hence the long break between posts. I have been out fishing, however, and last week I made it back to Boulder Mountain - this time, for 3 days of relaxation and fishing in paradise.

The mountain is a magical place that never ceases to amaze me. It's amazing how at peace with life I feel when I'm on this legendary mountain. 

The fish are just as incredible. This cutt was still dressed up for the spawn! 

And so was this one

A splake, FROM A CREEK (I just think catching it from a tiny creek is the bees knees) said hello 

Note the lack of blue halos and the forked tail that mark this fish as definitely a splake. 

A skinny brook trout came to hand as well. I caught a lot of fish from this creek, but most were small, 5-inch brookies biting off more than they should be able too! 

After messing around on my favorite trickle of water in the state of Utah, I headed up to the lake, pumped up the tube, and got to work with my fly rod. 

Now, I'm not exaggerating when I say this - I caught something in the range of 80-100 fish while I was on Boulder. The vast majority were cutts that looked just like this

The best part? These cutts were taking dry flies. A seriously epic mayfly hatch was going on, and the fish were feeding all day long. I can't remember the last time I saw a lake boiling all day long, and well into the night. 

I also made a hike into a lake I'd been wondering about for a while. While I didn't see any signs of fish, I saw quite a few salamanders. The view was gorgeous, too. 

The last night I was on the mountain, I got back on the tube and found myself in the thick of things once again with the cutts. When these fish took the fly, they didn't just try to eat it - they tried to drown the thing! Cutthroat fishing isn't usually this intense except during the spawn, but Boulder Mountain cutthroat apparently didn't get that memo.

Leaving Boulder is always hard for me, but I knew I'd be back soon enough when fall rolls around. I have a few hunches to check out when the leaves start turning, and if they pay off, I could be coming home with some really nice fish. 

Now, after Boulder, I went and hit a few spots for brown trout after work earlier this week. The browns were rising on hopper patterns! This guy jumped quite a bit before I got him in, giving my 3-weight quite the workout. 

Then, I took some time to go hit a fun little creek home to a solid population of cutthroat and rainbow trout. The cutts didn't want to play, but the bows were a dime a dozen. 

The fish weren't too big, but they were hard fighters, and a lot of fun on a 3-weight fly rod. 

I did catch one cutthroat, the skinniest and most haggard-looking cutt I've ever laid eyes on. Long fish, though. 

And then, on Pioneer Day, I hiked into a fun little stream in search of some larger brown trout. The creek is swift, deep, and unforgiving. I slipped and fell on the rocks more than once, and have some nice bruises to show for it! 

However, that was all worth it when I hooked into a chunky little brown. I was tossing a black hopper into the slack on the side of the current when I saw a quick flash in the water and my fly disappeared. 

I yanked up on the fly rod, tightening the line with my left hand, and felt a nice solid fish on the end of the line. He took a run up into the current, sitting on the bottom and shaking his head at me. 

Ever so carefully, being wary of the swift current that could knock me off my feet if I wasn't steady, I tried to tug the fish down to me. He didn't like that much, took a huge jump clean out of the water, then tore off downstream.

The streambed was littered with huge, slippery boulders covered in moss, and I was having an insane time trying to follow the fish downstream and not kill myself! After maybe five or so minutes, I finally tuckered the fish out enough to get him to hand. 

Without a doubt, one of the fattest browns from a river I have ever caught! 

I caught a few cutthroat very similar to size, but they didn't stick around long enough to take pictures. 

I also nearly got bit by this bad boy.

Without a doubt, that is the fattest rattlesnake I've seen in the wild. Probably digesting a mouse or something, considering how its stomach was bulging. I was hiking along the bank when I tripped, and as I was laying on the ground, I heard that unmistakable rattle. I looked up, and not three feet away from my face was this rattlesnake, all coiled up and ready to strike.

After a few heart pounding moments, I back away slowly and stood up, and the snake was still hissing and rattling like nobody's business. I snapped this picture as it was slithering back into the rocks, then I poked it a bunch with the tip of my fly rod (yay for 9 foot rods!!) to make it hurry away from me before continuing fishing. That was quite an adventure! 

Fishing has been good to me these past few weeks, and hopefully it remains that way! I'll be getting into some more water this weekend, so look for that post soon! 

A Week of Gorgeous Cutts On A Fly

l have this problem when I fish. Well, it's not really a problem, as much as a preference to make my fishing trips the best - I like to fish alone. Being on a lake where I'm the only guy there is magical. Fishing a stretch of river and never seeing another human is relaxing in a way that nothing else quite is.

And the 4th of July weekend is absolutely horrible for finding alone time in the great outdoors.

Nevertheless, I soldiered on and hiked into a gorgeous lake. A few people were there when I arrived, but they left and I actually ended up having the place to myself for about 3 hours.

This is the same lake where I caught my gorgeous, giant cutthroat (pictured below) a few weeks ago.

But I'm getting ahead of myself! I also spent a day earlier this week fishing for cutts. 

A small, lonely pond up a popular canyon holds some decent sized fish, and I found one willing to come out of the water for pictures. 

I'm almost certain this is a Bonneville Cutthroat (the large one, and all the rest, are) and it's cool to see them color up like this. 

After catching that fish, I followed the stream that feeds this pond up a ways, without finding any decent fish. I did get some amazing pictures of the sunset, though. 

Absolutely breathtaking. Man, I love Utah. 

Now, on Saturday, as I hiked into the cutthroat lake, I stopped by a very small trickle of water, probably no more than 3 feet across in most places and basically a series of deep pools connected by about an inch of running water. I saw some fish running around, so I tied on a caddis (all my flies are made by myself) on the end of my fly rod. The water was so clear, and I had the perfect vantage point, to sit and watch as the fish lazily swam up and swallowed my fly. It was amazing!

I know this isn't a cutthroat...or is it? 

The fish wouldn't hold still, but if you look closely, you can see a faint orange slash peeking out right under the jaw, in the same place where a cutthroat would have a slash. I wonder if this rainbow is actually a cuttbow. 

Another rainbow ate my fly before I started hiking further into the cutthroat lake. 

Pretty fish! 

I got to the lake, and found my favorite spot for the fish. They were being incredibly picky and not liking my first few offerings. Finally, I found a pattern that seemed to do the trick. 

After I cracked the code, the fish came in pretty regularly. Not fast, but fast enough to keep me in the same spot for nearly 3 hours. 

Then, it decided to rain. I haven't been in a good summer thunderstorm in a long while. This one was welcome! 

After the rain stopped (it took a good half hour for it to stop enough for me to fish without getting drenched) I got back to fishing. 

This next fish was absolutely gorgeous! So colorful! 

The fish in this lake are some of the prettiest cutts I've ever had the opportunity to catch. Amazing fish, they are. 

This was probably the biggest fish of the day. Nothing to write home about, but a gorgeous fish nonetheless. 

I caught more tiny fish like this than I can count, but this one was really pretty so it needed a picture. 

Then, I moved to another spot on the lake. I had my spinning rod with me, and decided to throw some spinners for a while. Another nice cutt hit my blue fox. 

After him, the clouds that had dumped rain on me a while ago looked poised to come back with a vengeance. I was already soaked, but I didn't necessarily want to get more soaked, so I left the lake and its colorful cutthroat behind. 

Epic Boulder Mountain Trip

The legendary Boulder Mountain has been calling my name all year, but I didn't manage to make it down to that oasis in the middle of a desert until this weekend. Most people who go to Boulder stay a few days, at least, because it's far from almost everything else and getting in to some of the lakes requires a lot of work.

My buddy Mike and I decided to make a day trip out of it - if you can call what we did on Saturday a "day trip." We drove over 450 miles, spent 9 hours in the car, and 10 hours fishing. It was amazing.

We were up at 3, departed at 3:30, and drove through the dawn until we finally got to the base of the 11,000 foot mountain. I knew we were close when I saw this prominent landmark!

Our drive then went off road through a juniper and sage forest that doesn't hint that it gives way to soaring alpine country just a few thousand feet higher on the mountain. 

Anyone familiar with Boulder Mountain is familiar with its infamously horrible roads. After bouncing and crawling along a narrow dirt track stuffed with boulders (gee, I wonder how the mountain got its name?), and thanks to Mike's expert driving, we arrived at the first lake we'd headed out to fish. 

The best part? We had the lake to ourselves! Although the smooth, glassy water looked incredibly tempting, I had to take Mike to one of my secret honey holes on the mountain. After a decently long bush whacking hike, we arrived. 

Over the years, I've found a few amazing places on Boulder and this is one of them by far! We immediately set to fishing this small, fast moving trickle of water. 

A pretty little cutthroat came to hand on the second cast into the base of a waterfall. 

Mike got a cutthroat next, too! He missed one that flashed a nearly 17 inch length at us before swimming away in the same hole he caught this one. 

Then, the brookies started coming. I've caught a few brookies from this stream before, but never this many! 

They were small, but beautiful and feisty! 

We were having a blast fishing this little creek!

After a good hour and a half of messing around with little fish, and watching bigger ones turn their noses up at our offerings, we were almost ready to hit the lakes. I spotted one more hole, though, and Mike and I had to fish it.

As we crowded around the hole, we noticed that two very large fish were sitting on the bottom. One was dark, almost assuredly a brookie, and the other was a nice long cutthroat. Both fish were pushing 18 inches, and both looked hungry. 

They, too, turned their noses up at anything we flashed at them. They just didn't feel like eating! So, eventually Mike found a way to just make the fish mad and provoke a strike. It worked! 

Look at that! A 17 inch brook trout, from a brook! Life doesn't get much better than that!

(Note - the tail is rather forked a tad, which made me think at first this was a splake - brook/lake trout hybrid. Splake could theoretically get into this stream, but they'd have to travel a few miles, through two small creeks and two large reservoirs before ending up in our hands on this creek. Due to that, I'm going to go ahead and say this is a brook trout.) 

After that epic catch, we decided to go try our luck on one of the many lakes we were close too. After a nice little hike, some beef jerky, and boulder hopping, we arrived. 

I'd just missed a fish right as this was taken! 

The lake was gorgeous. We couldn't have picked a better day to go fishing in this magical place. 

I was standing on the shore of this hidden gem, slowly jigging a plastic minnow into shore, when my reel started screaming. I set the hook, and saw the flash of something I thought was a cutthroat. It jumped into the air, but I still couldn't see what it was! 

Then, it got closer and I realized I'd hooked into a feisty tiger trout. It gave me a good fight before it held still for pictures. 

After that catch, we decided it was time to try another little hidden pond. We set out for the water, home to fish in excess of 6 pounds (I've personally seen a 6 pounder from here, and know of people who've caught fish in the 7 pound range). 

Absolutely stunning. Words don't do justice to how majestic this sight is. A small pond, tucked away against a sheer cliff, water dyed green and crystal clear. The air was still and quiet, and I could just feel that primeval connection between man and nature as I stepped onto the springy shore of this small pond. 

For me, fishing isn't really about the fish. It's about cleansing my soul and recharging my spiritual batteries in an ethereal way. Seeing things like this, tucked way and hidden in thick pine and aspen forest, just stirs something in me that I have a hard time describing. I just feel an immense calm and a connection to the thousands of years of men before me who fished for survival, and it's truly humbling. 

Mike and I walked around this lake for a while, and saw large fish cruising the shallows. We threw everything we had at them, and they didn't budge. We broke for lunch, and gave them a go again for another hour or so, and with still no fish to hand, decided to head back to a different lake. 

Those were the first clouds we saw in the sky all day!

As we jigged along the shoreline, I felt something hit my line. I waited, seeing if it would strike again. I didn't feel anything, so I jigged again. As soon as my rod lifted up, I felt a solid weight on the end, like I'd hooked into some weeds. 

Then it started moving, and I realized I had a fish! It had inhaled the jig, apparently, and I had to really manhandle it into shore. 

I couldn't believe the coloration on this splake. It was incredible! So orange and amazing! Just this fish alone made the trip worth it! 

These pictures don't do the fish justice at all. The colors were so deep and vibrant, it looked airbrushed! After we measured the fish (a healthy 18 inches, with a good fat belly) it went back into the water to swim away. 

A few other splake and cutthroat came to hand after that, but nothing of note. We left that lake for one last small creek before heading home. 

Breathtaking! 

After this last brookie came to hand, Mike and I decided to call it a day. We'd seen amazing fish, played in beautiful country, and been up since 3 in the morning (2, in Mike's case). We were ready for home!

As we were loading up the truck, another man who'd been camping near one of the lakes started talking with us. He's fished the mountain since the 70s, and was telling us stories of when they'd bring home stringers of 5 pound brookies. Those days are a distant memory on this legendary mountain, but those fish still swim the cold waters and can be found by the dedicated fisherman. 

Get out and explore it!