There will be ups… and there will be downs
That pretty much sums up the trip I just returned from. I’ll try to keep this brief although so much happened it will be difficult. Early Friday I boarded an allegiant flight and went from desert to mountain valley in just under two hours. It felt good to be in Idaho again for a weekend of fishing and hanging with good friends. We loaded the truck quickly, stopped for licenses and headed south to American Falls and the Snake River.
The accommodations were meager but sufficient. This would be base camp for the following two nights.
From here we loaded all necessary equipment into the boat and headed straight for the river for an evening of carp and smallmouth bass fishing. I placed my backpack in the boat filled with all of the flies and lures for the weekend, my Nautilus FWX fly reel, and a spare spool both loaded with expensive lines. About halfway to our destination we had a truck pull up next to us and signal that we had something wrong. A tarp was flapping in the wind so we pulled over, secured it, checked the tires, then headed for the water. Once we launched we sped to a spot Everet had picked out. Once there we began assembling rods and thats when I realized my backpack was missing.
I felt sick. We left Brandon and Dave fishing and flew back to the ramp. About halfway there I turned my head to see something to my left and my Costa Del Mar sunglasses flew off my face and sank to the depths. Again, I felt sick. We made it back to the truck, loaded the boat quickly, and drove frantically back along the route to search for the pack. We eventually ran into a state road truck that was picking up re tread from the side of the highway. I approached him and sure enough, there in the front seat of his truck was my backpack…. shredded. Both the pack and its contents looked like they had gone through a blender. Roadkill.
We returned to the other two who had been doing well for bass.
The wind became too much shortly after this and so we called it a day. Back in the cabin I spent an hour going through the mess in the pack. About half of my hand tied flies made it through. None of the boxes did.
The next morning I woke up feeling better. We fished for bass in the morning and carp in the afternoon. Things worked out very nicely. And luckily Everet had me covered of flies.
All went smoothly the second day besides a tip being broken from the end of my newest fly rod. A small fee will replace it but I obviously wanted it to fish the entire trip. Ups and downs. We all crashed for a final night in the little cabin, sore arms for everyone.
Day three was to be the best weather of the trip so we hustled back to Rexburg in hopes of finding giant stone flys coming off the Henrys Fork. We could not have timed it more perfectly. As soon as we got near the river it looked like hummingbirds everywhere you looked. The giant stones were coming off thick.
Half of the group chose to nymph with big stone imitations but Dave and I tied on the dries. Both were effective, the nymphs for sure took the most numbers.
Dave and I hunted for fish actively chasing down the adult bugs fluttering on the surface. Although there were fewer of them doing this, the ones we caught were spectacular.
As evening approached the dry fly action died and we all fished indicator rigs until we literally couldnt see anymore at 9:30 pm.
This only happens once a year, for a few days. I’ve never seen anything like it. Along the banks there was not two feet of water without a bug floating down. Millions of large harmless insects for the trout to gorge on. No wonder the trout here are large, strong, and world renowned. I cant think of a better way to end the trip. Things started so bad but ended so good. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.