There’s nothing quite like the feeling of getting that perfect cast with your fly rod, landing the fly perfectly on the water exactly where you intended it to land, and having a fish jump for it seconds later. I was in that groove Sunday afternoon where the fish were chasing after my fly, but only one actually hooked. But the thrill of fly fishing isn’t so much the catch as it is the pursuit. There’s something theraputic about standing thigh deep in running water while throwing the line back and forth, even if nothing is biting. Then again, it’s just theraputic being in the middle of nowhere away from the hustle and bustle of modern life.

After last week’s trip to the North Fork of the Clearwater, I had been itching to go back out and spend more time on the water with my rod and reel. When Tyler suggested we do another trip, I jumped at the chance and suggested we try the St. Joe river. Like the North Fork, the St. Joe winds through a narrow valley for over 100 miles from its source along the Bitterroot Divide to its end in Lake Coeur D’Alene in the town of St. Maries. In fact, one of the things that makes the St. Joe more attractable is that it sees fewer people than the North Fork, despite an easier drive. The entire road back as far as Spruce Tree campground, the end of the road, is paved. It was an unexpected surprise after spending several hours on forest service roads trying to find our way down to the river.

Normally, we’d drive to St. Maries and pick up the St. Joe River Road, but in good Idaho DOT fashion, there was road work on Friday afternoon causing a massive delay only a few miles out from St. Maries. There is a “short cut” not too far back that the GPS originally tried to route us on, but I suggested we skip because I had no idea what the condition of the roads would be like. After waiting for 20 minutes with no sign of movement, we turned around to try the path through the forest. Somewhere, we took a wrong turn because instead of travelling straight across as the map suggested we would, we ended up winding our way south back to Clarkia where we had to cross over Hobo Pass and along Marble Creek. In hindsight, we should have just taken that shortcut in the first place. So we were quite relieved to make it back to paved road and find a smooth drive back to our destination at Fly Flat campground.

The St. Joe is a smaller river than the North Fork, at least half the width and most of it fairly flat and shallow, but there are some deep canyons with deep pools and lots of fish. Unfortunately, they weren’t biting much. I think Dan and Tyler each caught about 5 fish on Saturday, most of which were in the 6-inch range. I caught none. We returned to camp and then headed upstream for an evening catch where Dan pulled in two nice sized cutthroat right away with his spinner, but Tyler and I weren’t getting any bites with flies.

Part of my problem is that I spent a good chunk of the day tying tippet. Several times, I got my line tangled or snagged and lost my fly or part of my leader. So finally, on Sunday, I cut off a twisted portion of my leader and tied on a fresh length of tippet and was having much better luck. I still lost a few more flies, one to grass, and another to a fish. We first started Sunday by heading into a deep gorge full of deep pools. Since it was too deep to wade, we had to fish from the bank, and in such a confined space, I was having trouble getting good casts. So after losing a fly to the grasses, I called it quits and headed upstream where the river was more open. This is where I caught my one and only fish of the trip, and upon releasing it, lost the fly after another cast. I suspect that the fish had chomped on the line by the hook, creating a weak spot in the knot. After that, I was getting bites, but no catches.

The St. Joe is beautiful country with great seclusion, scenery, and fishing. I can’t say whether I like it over the North Fork because both rivers offer a spectacular experience. I’m glad that I have such terrain close by and I’m looking forward to more visits in the future. One of these trips, I’ll actually take some time to photograph the area as well.

I went fishing along the North Fork of the Clearwater with Tyler and Dan, two graduate students in the department. Unfortunately, it was a short trip, leaving Thursday morning and returning late Friday afternoon, but that’s just how the timing worked, and it was a much needed getaway for all of us.

We camped at Kelly Forks campground, luckily snagging a spot along the river. The campground is located at the confluence of Kelly Creek and the North Fork of the Clearwater which has some added benefits. Kelly Creek has an amazing fishery, but it is catch-an- release only. At one time, Kelly Creek barely had any fish left due to over fishing and habitat degredation. Thanks to recovery efforts started in the 60’s and a no-harvest rule, Kelly Creek is one of the best fishing grounds in the state. The North Fork, on the other hand, has a trout limit of 2 per person per day, which meant we could potentially bring some home to cook up.

We must have been on some pretty popular spots on Kelly Creek. The fish were biting, though they were pretty small. We each caught at least one, though all were 8 inches or less. My first catch was a fluke. I was showing Tyler how to cast a fly rod and during the demonstration, I had a bite that hooked. Tyler and Dan were having more luck with their spinners, but I was having more fun casting flies.

We moved to a spot along the North Fork before dinner to try and catch something to bring back to camp. Tyler caught a sizeable mystery fish, so ultimately we let it go. We went back to camp and decided to try our luck along the confluence. I caught a small  cutthroat, but it was nowhere near the 14 inch limit. We made spaghetti, lit a fire, and relaxed before bed.

Friday morning, we tried a spot two miles downstream from camp at a place called Cold Springs. It turned out to be a good spot. Almost immediately, Tyler brought back a nice Mountain Whitefish which we promptly threw into the bag for keeping. Soon after, Daniel reeled in a nice Cutthroat, but it wasn’t quite big enough to keep. I was getting some bites, but eventually realized that my leader was too short and should be extended, so I headed back to the car to add a bit of tippet to my line. While I was trying to figure out the surgeon’s knot, I heard a big splash in the pond beside me. I looked over and saw that a moose had just jumped in and was swimming for the other side. I dropped what I was doing, grabbed my camera, and ran, hoping to intercept it as it climbed out onto the bank. I didn’t run fast enough for it was long down the dike and there was no way I was going to get a decent shot. I went back and finally figured out my knot when Dan and Tyler returned to tear down camp and move on.

We intended to hit up Weitas Creek on the way out. The bridge over the North Fork to the campground has been closed on account of structural unsoundness. When we got there, it was completely gated off and closed to pedestrian traffic as well.  We found a trail down to the river and waded across. Here, the water was relatively shallow: waste deep but fast flowing. Add some slippery rocks and it was quite a challenge to cross, but we made it to the other side and to the confluence with Weitas Creek. There was a nice rapid below the confluence and that’s where we all headed. I found a set of rocks that Tyler had been fishing, but decided to leave, so I gave it a chance. I landed my fly right beside the rock in a small pool of calm water and immediately, a fish jumped after it. Unfortunately, it did not hook. So I re-casted a few times and then waited a bit, threw the fly in again and got another bite, but no hook. I threw it in a third time and again, got a bite. This one held on for a few seconds, but ultimately I could not get him hooked. Of course, I was excited that I was actually getting bites. However, I kept casting and noticed that my fly wasn’t very far away from the line. The leader had gotten incredibly tangled. I tried to untie it, but the mess was too much for me to handle while standing in the middle of fast flowing water. Frustrated and hungry, I headed back upstream to cut off the knot and tie on a new piece of tippet. At that time, I also noticed Dan was heading back. It was about that time that we needed to head home anyway. So there’s my story about the one that got away.

Of course, I learned a valuable lesson from this experience:
1. Always bring all of my equipment with me onto the stream, especially if it’s going to take considerable effort to get back to the car.
2. Bring a snack.

The North Fork of the Clearwater is beautiful country. Like the Clearwater/Lochsa river that flows along Rt. 12 from Lolo Pass, the North Fork winds through a deep V-shaped valley flanked by peaks that reach 7000 feet. It’s a beautiful drive that is more remote and slower paced than Rt. 12, only because the roads aren’t major highways. The North Fork still sees a lot of visitors, but as many people as there are back there, there still seemd to be room for that feeling of isolation. I’m so glad I finally got down there and I’m looking forward to planning my next trip, hopefully spending more than one night out in paradise.

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Every year, the graduate students from the University of Idaho’s biology department embarks on a float trip on the Snake River. It’s an annual tradion that carrys on well before my time. Actually, I’m not sure when the tradition began. In 2010, the float trip was held shortly after I arrived in Idaho. By that time, the daytime temperatures had cooled and I was not feeling up to floating in the river. In retrospect, I wish I had gone my first year. I made up for it by going last year. Actually, we held two trips last year, but I was only able to go on one of them. It was a blast, but Erin was working and couldn’t come.

So this year, we set out to continue the tradition of floating 6-10 miles down the Snake River on a hot and gorgous day. We put in about a mile downstream of the confluence with the Grand Rhonde and floated for 7.7 miles, taking out at Bufalo Eddy. We had never started this high up, but decided to do so because Bufalo Eddy creates a challenge when floating in tubes. Essentially, a small rapid propels you around a turn on river right and shoots you into an eddy on river left which is nearly impossible to get out of. Last year, we got stuck in the eddy for about an hour, each time thinking we  were in the current only to be routed back toward shore and up river. We finally had someone on a jetski tow us out so we could finish the float.

So to avoid that fiasco again, we decided to just end at the eddy where there is also a nice beach and a parking area. The advantage of starting farther upstream is that we got to ride Captain Lewis Rapids. When I saw these waves from the road, I was quite excited that we’d get to float through some “major” rapids for tubing. When it came time to hit the rapid, we actually missed the big waves, and it’s probably a good thing. From the water’s surface, they looked to be 3-4 feet from crest to trough and could have easily caused some problems since we weren’t wearing PFDs. The rest of the ride was pretty smooth. Any rapids downstream of Capitan Lewis were ripples barely big enough to splash us on the tubes.

The float trip is a great bonding experience. We sit there, tied together as a great floatilla, hanging out and drinking beer. Erin came along and actually had a good time. I’m kind of hoping that we do another one before the season ends, but with the semester starting up in two weeks, I don’t think it will actually happen. Still, one can dream.

So until next year, I’d say we had a pretty successful float trip.