I CAUGHT THEM ALL
The weekend was a shameless retreat from the new project and the occasionally dreary task of reading resumes. My normal “shooting session” was abandoned, the computer was mostly turned off, (is that bad for them?) and all food was commercial, overpriced, palatable, but quick and convenient.
The weather was just too nice and the park is beautiful, but drying out very fast. I visited the Firehole and the Madison. There were some hatches of caddis flies and I managed to catch a bunch of fish with my caddis fly imitations. Both the fish and the flies were small. The biggest fish I caught on Saturday was a 12″ whitefish. It even jumped as I was pulling it in. Steve says that they don’t jump – oh well.
Late on Saturday there was a hatch of small mayflies near the picnic area on the Firehole. I used my little trico flies and caught about a dozen fish – all about 8″ – 10″ and very lively. Steve took a picture of my brown trout. It’s a shame that these fish are not native, they sure are wild though.
Sunday morning I called mom and we talked about Dad and how he always wanted to fish in Yellowstone. I told her about the fish and she said that I should have a good time and enjoy the weather. She may come up again in the Fall and we can go on one of our “Pack Trips.” I pack and she trips, (see last year’s trip to Joffee Lake – 1 – 2.)
Sunday was very bright and warm. I drove all the way to the pullout for the Kepler Cascades and walked along the trail to Lone Star Geyser. It’s shady and pleasant. There are not many fishermen, but there are a lot of tourists. There was a stupid couple with a black lab that kept running and barking and jumping in the upper Firehole. There was one fisherman that really chewed them out because they were ignoring the leash law of Yellowstone. Where’s a cop when you need one?
The upper Firehole is very cold here and the fish are small, but there sure are a lot of them. I just ignored the screaming kids and the loud bikers and fished. It’s easy to get to the river and there is a bridge so you don’t have to wade if you don’t want to. There are a lot of flies in the air and they look like good fish food. There were some caddis and some mayflies. I used all five of the patterns that I brought and they all worked. I’d like to say that the ’52 Buick was the best but it was just the same as the bead head fly nymph.
The foot and bicycle traffic along the trail are easily as heavy as when I was fishing at lake Cachuma back in Santa Barbara. It feels just like fishing in a city park; the fish are more cooperative in Yellowstone though. The tourists stopped during the little hail storm about one O’clock, but the came back soon after – just like the flies.
It was about five O’clock when I left and drove down to the pull out at seven mile bridge. The only bison that I saw was near the National Park Meadows. I stopped because there were a lot of flies smashing into my window, and there was no one fishing there. I caught one little rainbow and then the mosquitoes started to bite.
I got home about nine O’clock and hit the shower. I was tired but did not feel like I’d exercised much. So, it’s early and I can run some before breakfast.