Final Four: Day Two, October 16th

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.