Western Trout

I've had a rare and wonderful opportunity in the past week to fish for trout in two different regions of the western United States.  For a guy who doesn't get much time on the water, this was quite a treat.

First up was central Idaho. A friend from an online fly fishing group I've been a part of for quite a few years invited us to his property along Loving Creek, a spring creek tributary to Silver Creek, near Picabo, Idaho.  (And yes, Picabo is pronounced as if you were saying it to an infant.)  Steve has been taunting the group with photos of the landscape of his ranch and of trout from his stream, so I combined a trip to visit family in Seattle with three days of Idaho fishing.

We also fished the Big Lost river in the Copper Basin area above Ketchum, rushing mountain streams with different feel (and with cutthroat trout as well as rainbow) from the spring creeks.  Fishing the spring creeks was difficult but enjoyable and rewarding, as was the companionship.

Early morning on Loving Creek

Silver Creek from above

Floating Loving Creek

Since I had gear in tow, I decided to find a trout stream near my in-law's home of Bremerton, Washington.  With a few suggestions and some web searching, I settled on the mountain reaches of the Dungeness River, whose headwaters is in the Olympic Mountains.  In many ways the Dungeness is the opposite of the wide-open Idaho spring creeks, sight lines in the verdant Olympics being limited by the giant fir and bushy alder and hemlock trees.  In Idaho, I could see the truck from a mile or more away as I hiked back to it.  In the Olympics, I couldn't see more than 30 feet ahead of us as we drove the dirt roads.  The Dungeness plunges steeply as well, with fast rapids punctuated by occasional pools.  Father-in-law Doug, a native of these parts, joined me.

I was on the water early and had little success to start with, but eventually caught a few small trout.  One large pool beckoned with its overhanging trees.  I got myself into position downstream and cast a brushy red "Humpy" fly- one that doesn't resemble any particular insect but looks buggy to hungry trout- upstream.  After a few drifts, a trout took the fly and I assumed it was yet another small one.  After a much stronger tug and a good bit of line pulled off my reel, I got the fish closer to me and saw it was quite a healthy one.  It was tricky to get a photo of it, but measured against my fly rod it was 16" long and plenty fat.  My day was made!

After a sandwich lunch, we drove further upstream to a popular trailhead where the road crosses the Dungeness.  Apparently all hikers, I had the river to myself, and again worked the plunge pools with a bushy Stimulator fly.  Here the fish were eager but not particularly large.  I took one or two brook or rainbow trout from most of the pools, none larger than 10 or 12 inches.

Dungeness River, in a hurry to get to the Pacific

Healthy rainbow trout

It was a great day!  And I feel fortunate to have had these two opportunities to indulge my love of spending time in the great outdoors.

Book 'em

Nothing quite compares to the feeling of completing a creative project.

Kim and I carried this completed book case out of the workshop and into the bedroom yesterday.  It's the first large piece of furniture I've finished in some time.  Sure, I've done plenty of other smaller projects, but this one has been simmering and slowly coming along for quite some time.  In fact, the drawings I made for it are dated 2008.  Kim reminds me that since then I've created a few other things outside of the workshop, but still.  Five years on a case piece is a long time!

I've written about this project before here on Commonplace.  There was a post about making dowel pegs from firewood.  I talked about preparing the lumber in this post, which also shows the inspiration for the project- an article written by Shaker furniture expert Christian Becksvoort.  His version can be seen on his site- boy howdy, I saved $4,500!  And yes, I adjusted the measurements from his example- my version is about 6" wider.  This post is mostly about Memorial Day, but there is a picture of the dovetails, freshly cut, that hold the case sides together.  And in this post, the shelves were but a drawing taped to the wall and a pile of lumber.

Here is the case with the doors closed, empty of books.  It is made from solid black cherry.  The wide lumber (the top and sides are 12" wide boards) comes from a memorable snowy day, probably 15 years ago, when I acquired it from a barn in western Geauga county- the personal stash of an octogenarian woodworker who could no longer make use of it.  I think of him and his kindness often when I'm working in the shop.  The small table in front is one of a pair that I built about 8 years ago.  The bed frame was built with the same lumber.

Dovetails are a mechanical joint, and here they connect the top of the case to the sides.  The shelves are also connected to the case sides with sliding dovetail joints.

I'm particularly proud of the perfectly matched door knobs I turned on the lathe.

 Here's the case, doors open, loaded with trout and fly fishing books.

The young apprentice says it measures up!

Roughing it easy

We've been roughing it easy in Cleveland for the past week as Snowmageddon descended on half the country.

Sunday we went out and enjoyed some sunshine. Here are Sam and his mule, kicking and gliding through the woods:

The two of us tried on Christmas presents too- Bill in new waders, Sam in a vest sent from his Aunt Teri. Now all we need is the trout. And clearly, I'm showing him the proper way to dress whilst angling: necktie and waders. Dry flies. Upstream only, please.

And early in the week, our aged refrigerator gave up the ghost. After a day or two of shopping we picked out a replacement... which won't be delivered until next week. So I've channeled my grandparents and converted the refrigerator into an ice box. Plenty of raw materials to be had outside, so every day or so I hack out a chunk from the driveway or an icicle from the eaves and it keeps the temperature in the mid-30s in the very large cooler.

The Big One That Didn't Get Away

Grandpa Doug and I went out fishing today.

I netted this eight pounder.

And here are the happy grandparents, Grandma is busy covering a storage box and Grandpa is singing a song to Sam.

A Pause for Trout

This weekend has been busy with infant CPR and first aid class yesterday, and a whole lot of bathroom construction (drywall is all up, ready for tape and mud.) But this morning I decided I'd give myself a little break and chase trout for a few hours.

About an hour south is a small creek that the local chapter of Trout Unlimited has adopted and turned into nice trout habitat. They stock the creek twice a year, spring and fall, and the fish population seems to do OK. This was my destination for the day.

The weather turned from yesterday's pleasant, sunny, cool weather to downright cold and a steady rain. It was 42 degrees when I parked the car to suit up, with an even, cold rain falling. The creek water was fine- it hadn't been raining long enough or hard enough to wash it out.

I fished for about an hour with little luck- didn't even see many fish. At my upstream limit, I turned around to head back downstream and changed flies from my favorite wet Royal Coachman to a black Wooly Bugger with a cone head. This wet, heavy fly would get down deep in the water to where the fish were likely holding. I let the fly swing downstream and gave it some action and in the first deep pool I felt a bump. The water erupted as a big, 16 inch rainbow trout leapt, trying to throw the hook. I let him take line, then as he tired, reeled him in.

I followed the same routine for about 45 minutes, and ended up landing 4 trout, all of them large, healthy rainbows. It was hard to get pictures since I was fishing alone, but this one came out OK. The third white mark on the fly rod is 18 inches from the end of the rod!

Fishing with Duke and Rowdy

This past weekend we spent three days in Colorado at the wedding of a friend of Kim's from high school. It was a real treat to have an excuse to fly in to Durango.

Saturday morning I spent a few hours fishing the La Plata River near town. Since I had such a short time I arranged the services of a guide through Duranglers fly shop. I arrived at the shop early Saturday morning and was greeted by Duke, my guide for the day.

Allow your mind to conjure an image of a Colorado backwoodsman. The image that appears in your mind's eye will be very close, I wager, to the reality of Duke. Somewhere in age between 45 and 65, face obscured by a long, grizzled beard and felt fedora mounted atop his head, Duke was every bit of what one could hope for in a guide- knowledgeable not only of the location, and indeed he knew every inch of the river we fished- but also affable and willing to offer tips and opinions. Duke's golden labrador Rowdy joined us, so I really had two guides for the price of one.

We spent the morning working our way upstream, fishing pocket water in this lovely freestone creek at an elevation of nearly 8500 feet. Duke had warned me when I arrived in the morning that the cold weather- mornings in the mountains this time of year generally have 30-40 degree temperatures- would have the trout "rolled up in their sleeping bags" until the sun rose enough to reach down into the canyon and get the fish active. He couldn't have been more correct- I didn't catch the first fish until nearly 11 o'clock.

I love seeing brook trout- and at this time of year they are particularly lovely with their highlights of red from spawning- but it would have been even neater to catch a cutthroat. Was not to be, at least not on this day, on this mountain creek. It was a beautiful day to be out, and I was happy to catch even a few trout.