 |
| Fishy skies greet the morning |
Temperatures
last night stayed above freezing, comfortable sleeping in the tent and down
sleeping bag. I decided to walk to the fishing this morning. Junction Pool on
the Madison is just minutes from the campground, I was the first on the river
for as far as I could clear see down to Big Bend.
I was back
to fishing my 5 weight rod. Trout bum’s luxury, having both rods always rigged
and ready in the car; one for nymphs, one for streamers.
 |
| Deep run below these riffles, bottom of Firehole Canyon |
The
weather was fish-perfect: heavy overcast, light drizzle, calm. I started out at
the last deep run at the bottom of the Firehole, just a few hundred yards above
Junction Pool. Crossing the fast water above it using wading staff, I wanted to
work it from the far bank this time. To my surprise, I found no takers out of what
looks to be a prime spot for the run-up fish. Wow, can they be elusive.
 |
| Brown trout, prince nymph |
I worked
out of that run, over a short riffle, and into the last deep pool before the
Firehole tumbles into Junction Pool. On just the second cast, the indicator
went down hard with the strike of a good fish. You know when the fish are here
this time of year! No jumps, just the dogged pull of a brown trout. Reaching
out with the net, I let it get below me in the current. That’s almost always a
fatal mistake with big fish, but I managed to recover. There, safely in the
net, a gorgeous male, hook-jawed, hump shoulders, dazzling color, the prince
nymph lodged in his jaw. The poster boy for my Yellowstone season!
 |
| Poster boy of my Yellowstone season! |
The
drizzling rain had picked up slightly. Nearly noon, I walked back to camp for
an early lunch. My timing could not have been better, letting me enjoy a
sandwich and beer from the comfort of the car as the rain came down hard for nearly
an hour. When it finally let up, I
walked back down to Junction Pool to pick up where I had left off.
Two
anglers were ‘sitting on the hole’ in the fast run there. The angler etiquette
that governs Barns Pool does not apply up here. I dropped below them, and
started working the long stretch down to the road turnout that marks the
beginning of what’s known as Big Bend. Weather was starting to be an issue. The
rain had stopped, but the wind was picking up strongly and it was cooling off.
Brief breaks in the cloud gave the illusion the worst was over. I soon got way
more weather than I had bargained for.
An hour or
more of fishing the nymph rig resulted in nothing. Looking westward toward
where the weather was coming from, I noticed a heavy band of rain sweeping fast
up the valley toward me. Layers on, windbreaker hood up, I thought I was ready.
Except, it
wasn’t rain. Strong winds pummeled me so hard that I had to hunker down in the
lee of the steep streambank for protection. Then came stinging, pea-sized hail.
Finally, after five months of tourist weather here, Yellowstone delivered the
weather it is known for! Yahoo!
The hail
didn’t last more than ten minutes, but strong winds and dropping temperatures
remained. My determination to stick it out was rewarded. I found myself all
alone in the sweet spot: the inside bend of the big, deep pool below the campground.
Yesterday afternoon, there were ten or more fishermen working it.
 |
| Rainbow trout, woolhead streamer |
My nymph
rig broke completely off when I cast too close to a big mid-stream boulder
(will I ever learn?). Determination
faltering, I reverted to a sink-tip for swinging streamers rather than try to re-tie
a whole new rig in that wind. If I was going to stay out fishing in this
weather, I was going for a big fish to make it worthwhile. I found a big streamer,
the biggest in my box, one with big eyes, I recall someone saying that big fish
like to see big eyes. It was a big woolhead-bunny strip streamer from Gates Fly
Shop. I don’t recall the last time I used the thing.
 |
| Best fight of the two, by far |
Again, the
strike came within the first few casts. This time, the fight was fast and
furious, a big rainbow trout. It thrashed hard on the surface, then a zinging
run downstream. And, run some more. Fortunately, the snag-free river allowed me
to follow it down. I netted it a couple hundred feet from where I started. The
photos don’t begin to capture the beauty or bulk of this creature.
Walk-to
fishing. Two big, beautiful fish landed. I had not let the weather get the best
of me. I had beat the crowd. It was a very fine day.
