Greg Thomas's blog

I don't want to go all mystical on you guys, but I think karma has had a lot to do with my Dean River trip, so far. I didn't ask for much, just a chance to fish the river and if a fish were to come to hand, so much the better. I just wanted to see the country and hope for the best.

The Fork Bounces Back

Word out on the Henry's Fork is that the river is back, meaning it's progressed from a few years ago when anglers insisted that the state begin stocking the river with hatchery-raised trout. You can't drop much lower than that.

So, what to do? Late on Saturday night I was issued a shore-pass so I took off in the morning and drove from Ennis to Island Park and geared up at the top end of Railroad Ranch. My intentions: walk the river as far downstream as I could and check out the possibilities. When I fished the river frequently in the 1990s the Fork's wild rainbows were plentiful and large.I bumped in to Whitefish Ed at the access. He's a standby on the Henry's Fork, known of his bright, outlandish garb. He dialed me up with big gold. When in Rome...

I was particularly excited because just as I got on the water I saw big green drake duns floating on the surface and I was sure that the trout would key on them. But, no. In typical Henry's Fork fashion, the trout decided to gently suck in size-18 Baetis and PMD spinners. The only things eating green drakes were seagulls. Go figure.

Fortunately, there were lots of rising fish, not as many big ones as I remember in the past, but enough 10 to 12-inchers to keep things interesting and few bruisers to make your knees shake. I found one of those fish in the islands section and worked him for 20 minutes or so. Clearly that fish was keyed-in on the little stuff and I tried to place as size-18 Rusty Spinner in his grill, but glare on the water and a head-on wind made casting more than difficult. As you'll do from time-to-time while fishing the Fork, I glared into my dry-fly box and couldn't find a good answer. Then I saw some white hackle on a peacock-body Renegade, a fly I've never thrown in my life and something that seemed outlandish for the Henry's Fork's flat-water surface. I tied it on anyway, in part because stonefly nymphs were drifting past, just under the surface, washed down from Box Canyon I figured. I thought that peacock body might be mistaken as a sunken stone or a beetle.

A Blunder on the Big Hole

There are a variety of possibilities regarding why I missed a takeout on the Big Hole River last Saturday.

Could have been foggyness from the night prior at Wise River Club. Or it could have been due to a continuation of those evening antics while we drifted from Dickie Bridge toward Dewey, for what was going to be a quick morning/early afternoon float. Or it may simply have been that the water was flowing faster than we thought and we cruised right by Dewey, all of us staring at the north bank, before we ever thought we could have been there.Anglers can find all sorts of trouble at the Wise River Club, a Montana classic watering hole.

Regardless, the canyon below Dewey wasn't an especially great place to be during high flows, in a low-side drift boat, with four men and a hefty cooler aboard. As soon as I realized our blunder—which marked the first time in 20 years I'd missed a takeout—I recalled that someone lost their boat in that section the previous week. And, over the years, I've heard stories of other boat wrecks and even deaths in that gnarly canyon.

I knew we were in for it after the first big rapid, which kind of sucked me in before I knew what was happening, and it's a miracle that I kept the boat straight, while taking serious water over the bow. I quickly realized that I'd have to be really "on" to get us through the canyon and to our new destination, the takeout at old Silver Bridge. I don't know how many more rapids we negotiated, five, six or seven at least, but we did so wearing life jackets and me saying, "Uh, I'd hold off on fishing through this one guys." Some listened, others fished.

Through  each rapid I kept the boat as straight as I could and eased to various positions through the runs to avoid boulders. A couple times I shot narrow gaps between boulders and the rocky bank. To say that my adrenalin was elevated is an understatement. I don't consider myself a whitewater dude. I prefer rivers like the Beaverhead, Missouri and Clark Fork. So this was a real test and the first time, other than a run through the Madison's Kitchen Sink a couple years ago, that I'd ever worn a life jacket while rowing a Montana river, and the only time I've required my company to do the same.

In the end we made it through the canyon unscathed, all hands accounted for, and then we were happy we'd made the extra run. But we still had a problem—how to get back to Dewey. One of the guys, Wolfie, and I walked up to the highway to thumb a ride. We walked about a mile before a truck stopped in the middle of the narrow road, on blind corner, about 200 yards ahead of us. Wolfie screamed, "Let's go," and it was off to the races, Wolfie in full waders and me in wader-pants and spiked boots. We were out of breath when we jumped into the bed of that pickup truck, taking up stations next to a cardboard-boxed brand new refrigerator, standing vertical in the bed of the pickup. I prayed we wouldn't get rear-ended and that I wouldn't end up crushed underneath a Frigidaire. Talk about a lame way to go.A decent brown right before our ride through the canyon. Hey, is that Dewey in the background?

Fortunately, we were out of there before another vehicle arrived and after we picked up our rigs at the Dewey access we came to an easy conclusion: the other guys didn't know that we'd gotten a ride. For all they new we were still hoofing it up the highway. Time was on our side. So what to do? A stop at the Dewey Bar for a shot of Cuervo and a beer, and a good laugh with all the locals lapping up their favorites on an early summer weekend. I guess we could have stayed for two or three and feigned unsuccessful thumbing, but we decided we'd get back to the boys and yank the boat from the drink. Besides the cooler was in the boat and that left open all possibility.

The fishing last weekend? Weird, at best. We took some decent fish in two days on the Big Hole but it wasn't red-hot and the big golden stones everyone was talking about never materialized. Not a single one. We did see some caddis and PMDs but not in numbers. Had a lot to do with the weather, I'm sure. We woke next to the Wise River Club on Saturday morning and there was fresh snow on surrounding

Half-Sizes and Super Strength

I spent a lot of time on Silver Creek in the 1990s and I got pretty good at catching trout in all kinds of demanding situations. I learned to use my eyes as a tool in fishing; I learned to stalk trout and not to just stomp up to the bank; I learned that common flies would not take wary trout on a flat-water surface; and I learned that there wasn't the perfect tippet material because, often, 6X was too big and 7X was giving those healthy Silver Creek browns and rainbows too much of an advantage in the fight department.

Rene Harrop, John Stiehl, and Rich Paini developed the new leaders for a simple reason—they were tired of losing big Henry's Fork trout due to failed leaders and tippet.

I found similar frustration when fishing other tricky waters, such as Wyoming's Flat Creek and Idaho's Henry's Fork. So, I was pretty excited to speak with Rich Paini last week and hear about the new TroutHunter series of tippets and leaders that are available in fluorocarbon and nylon, and in the half-sizes of 5.5X and 6.5X. Talk about the solution!

Paini partners with Henry's Fork legend Rene Harrop to run TroutHunter fly shop and lodge, which rests on the banks of the 'fork, just upstream from the famous Railroad Ranch section. That's where he and Harrop and a third partner, John Stiehl, have honed their hatch-matching and presentation skills. And that's where the idea of a perfect leader and tippet system arose.

According to the boys, the sole purpose for developing the new material is because, over the years, they lost some good fish due to beat-down tippet. And they don't want that

SA Streamer Express

Finally got my hands on Scientific Angler’s new Kelly Galloup Streamer Express fly line and I’ve now had ample time to throw it on a couple sticks and on a couple different waters, including the Big Hole and Madison rivers on rainy, blowy afternoons.

I first threw it on the Sage XP 9’ five-weight, which is a stout stick that’s solid for throwing streamers and nymph rigs with lead. But, the rod seemed a little overmatched with the weight-forward 200-grain head, not completely turned to jelly, but a little slow on the lift.

So I went classic and threw an old, two-piece Sage RP 9’ six-weight, which was the first true fly rod I ever owned, part of payment to my father, Fred Thomas, who illustrated one of Sage’s first catalogues. Fred gave it to me as a high-school graduation present despite my urgings for a car. He made the right choice and I treasure that rod to this day. And it’s one of the best rods that Sage ever made.

So, is it worth it to throw streamers off a specific streamer line with a sinking head or can you continue to get away with a floating line, a couple chunks of lead, and a big streamer?

The answer, of course, is that you can get away with the floater and that lead, but that would be like cutting your lawn with an old, manual push-blade mower instead of dumping some gas in an auto-drive and doing it right.

I like throwing the 200-grain because it turns a streamer over with ease and the retrieve brings the fly back at a uniform depth. In addition, I can lift and snap a streamer right to the bank, give a couple quick strips, then lift and deliver the fly to another sweet pocket in rapid-fire fashion. That means I’ve covering every possible prime spot whereas the guy or gal throwing floaters is missing half the water.