It's been a while since we've been able to get in some fishing. A couple of things have contributed to this dilemma, 1) We have had a "normal" winter here in Utah and most of our fishing spots are snowed in or frozen over, and 2) a couple of our extra-curricular activities have taken over a lot of our time.
Spring, however, is trying to make a quick comeback here in Utah and some of our fishing spots are opening up, namely Big Cottonwood Canyon. The fishing on the creek was pretty good. We used a standard dry-dropper rig, a 16 Orange Stimulator and about sixteen inches behind that was an 18 Gunslinger. We got into both Brown and Rainbow Trout, primarily Rainbows though.
We were able to land into two decent sized Rainbows on this trip. Both of them were pushing over 14 inches and for Big Cottonwood Creek, they are the heavyweights of the river. The larger fish on this trip took the nymph while the smaller fish took the stimulator from the surface. The Rainbows in Big Cottonwood Creek are a wild population and they swim hard and the minute that they are hooked they swim down. If you want to get into the Rainbows you'll want to fish above the power plant.
One of these Rainbows was our Moby Dick for this stretch of the creek. We have hooked in with this fish multiple times and it quickly puts a bend in our 3 weight rod and it quickly spits the fly. It's dark red lateral line standing out against its aged, brown body. Today we were lucky enough to feel it tug on our rod and we quickly set the hook. It had the rod bent and quickly swam into the log jam downstream. In between the submerged limbs it went and we thought we had lost him. Using the rod, we were able to guide him away from the obstacles and get him into our net.
The wilderness is powerful, beautiful in its cruel evenhanded nature. Today we had the opportunity to see that very principle in action. Coming around a bend in the river we were startled by a large, hairy animal in the water. It took a quick, second look to realize what had happened. In the water lay a young moose, one that could not have been more than two years old. Coming down to the water for a drink, the moose found itself unable to get back out of the small canyon that the water had cut. It could have broken its leg, the snow may have been too deep, but there it lay. It had been there a while, snow still covered it in places. Nature is cruel and beautiful, ever pushing us to do more with the time we have.
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Growing up along the Provo River in Utah, I've seen countless numbers of Fly Fishermen search for the Tug. It's in the small streams that the dream is realized.