Published by The History Press
Charleston, SC 29403
www.historypress.net
Copyright 2014 by Chris Hunt
All rights reserved
All photos courtesy of the author unless otherwise noted.
First published 2014
e-book edition 2014
ISBN 978.1.62584.692.1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hunt, Chris, 1969
Fly fishing Idahos secret waters / Chris Hunt.
pages. cm
print edition ISBN 978-1-62619-216-4
1. Fly fishing--Idaho I. Title.
SH487.H86 2014
799.12409796--dc23
2014001911
Notice: The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. It is offered without guarantee on the part of the author or The History Press. The author and The History Press disclaim all liability in connection with the use of this book.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
CONTENTS
FOREWORD
Fly fishing in the backcountry is like playing acoustic music. Its raw, honest, essential.
Minus the augmentation, amplification, overdubs and such, its pretty clear who can really carry a tune and who cannot, who knows how to harmonize and improvise beyond the fundamentals and who simply reads sheet music and depends on engineers (like fly-fishing guides) to make them sound good.
Its exactly the same when you pick up a fly rod. So many of the nice fish, pretty colors photos we see in books and magazines these days are taken on prolific trout factory waters, and usually that involves a tailwater fishery on a well-worn path near a highway parking lot. It often revolves around playing bobber ball with a strike indicator and tiny nymph flies, wherein anglers hope to squeeze one more timid take out of fish that have been literally flogged into submission.
To me, at least, the true essence of this sport is rooted in exploration. I like to watch trout eat dry fliesnot necessarily because I like the real-time visual stimulus but because Ive come to learn that in the right place, at the right time, thats exactly what trout naturally want to do.
Being willing to walk (or drive) the hard miles to find these fish and then cast in the tiny (sometimes anonymous) blue lines on a topographic map is the key to discovering the true riches this sport has to offer. When you really pull that off, you never, ever forget why you fell in love with fly fishing in the first place.
Chris Hunt is my favorite acoustic artist when it comes to fly fishing. He has a knack for landing on the essence. Mind you, there have been times when I have openly wondered about playing along with him.
For example, he once invited me to chase native cutthroats in remote canyon drainages for a week, which I was more than eager to do. On day one, he said, Were just going to drop down into the river here, which we did. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, and indeed we caught many native fish. But climbing out at the end of the day in sandals and shortsscaling eight hundred vertical feet through a field of scree, panting and wheezingI had to ask aloud, Dudeis every day going to be like this?
I shouldnt have asked. But, aw heck, it was worth it. I became a better manand a better anglerfor having done so. In subsequent years, Chris has continued to show me hidden-jewel fishing spots that inevitably make me a better fisherman. The guy has a lot of aces up his sleeve, especially when it comes to Idaho.
Which leads me to a sensitive subject and one I think we should get out on the table right now. Idaho is the Gem State, after all, and when we get into the business of talking about hidden gems, at least in the context of fishing, well, is spilling the beans really a good thing to do?
For those who wonder, I have a two-word response: get real.
Idaho is the seventh-least populated of the fifty states. Its easily one of the top ten fly-fishing destinations in the world. Theres more than enough to go around. Its only natural, thereforeactually, its essentialto scratch beyond the surface and inspire people to explore and understand what the state really has to offer. I am grateful that Chris has done so, and in a way that I have never seen before.
The truth is that Im writing this in a notebook on the banks of Lago Quiroga, in Santa Cruz province, in southern Argentina. I am here chasing a magazine story that will no doubt revolve around the massive rainbow trout to be found here.
But in all honestyeven now, even heremy heart and soul are inextricably connected to the backcountry in the American West.
You see, the more you venture and the more you experience, the more you realize that there is indeed no place like home, and you understand that the greatest, wildest, most exciting fly-fishing adventures dont really start with a travel brochure, an international plane ticket or some faraway lodge.
The best ones always start with your own feet. And if youre willing to walk to discover the hidden gems, fishing-wise, youll find fulfillment and excitement that lasts a lifetime. In fact, theres so much out there that one lifetime is surely not enough to allow any angler to experience it all.
This book shortens the learning curve and puts you on the right path. The hours and insights here speak volumes. The honesty is admirable. The prose is eloquent. The purpose is genuine. The substance is hard-earned. And the opportunities, well, they speak for themselves.
So read on. Play along. And then compose your own acoustic music. Fish the unplugged rivers. Youll be glad you did.
Kirk Deeter
Editor, TROUT magazine
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To my friend Scott Stouder for showing me what the backcountry is truly all about, and to my dear friend Rachel Morgan, whos never afraid to explore. To my buddy Tom Reed, who understands what blue lines are really all about. To Kirk Deeter, for whom friendship is a serious and unfailing proposition. And to my children, Delaney and Cameron, for reminding me why protecting the places I love is so important.
INTRODUCTION
They call this a cold front. Its eighty-two degrees and raining sideways. The emerald waters of Florida Bay are chalky and rough. Its muggy. Everything in my travel bag smells likefeet.
Its been eight days since I left Idaho, and Im ready to go home.
To appreciate home, sometimes you have to leave for a while. To value something is to miss it when its gone. Or when youre gone. Simple as that.
As I sit here in a musty hotel room on Key Largo, I am wishing the heavy eight-weight leaning against the wall was a supple, fiberglass three-weight and that the water outside wasnt salty and violent but cold and clear and a mile away from the road. I wish the slate-gray sky was astonishingly blue and that the pelicans that loitered at the docks were instead ospreys scolding me as I cast a fat foam hopper to a beefy cutthroat they marked from one hundred feet above.
I wish, at this moment, that I were back home in Idaho where I belong.
The Gem State harbors many fishy secrets, from little-known tailwaters where rotund brown trout chase streamers every day of the year to small, hidden Panhandle creeks where redbands and westslope cutthroats feed on mayflies while keeping a wary eye on the depths, knowing a two-foot-long bull trout could be eyeing them for a meal.
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