We knew it would involve a lot of driving. Basically, we’re talking about fishing the western most one-third of WY. It was a 3386-mile round trip drive from Oklahoma and would take more than 1 day to get there and 2 full days to get back from Silver Gate, Montana, just north of Yellowstone. I sought advice here on The Forum and appreciate the replies and PMs from numerous members. Look here for my initial post and the replies:
viewtopic.php?f=65&t=105194&hilit=Wyomi ... hroat+Slam
We decided to go after all 4 types of fish during a 9-day adventure that involved staying in 1 location as we fished for Bonneville Cuts, CO River Cuts , and Snake River Cuts and then a separate location as we fished for Yellowstone Cuts in YNP. Some sightseeing in Yellowstone and the chance to fish for Golden trout were secondary objectives! Our only other experience fishing in WY was a 1-day trip to fish Sand Creek (off I-90 near Beulah in northeastern WY), while we fished the Black Hills in 2015.
Departure time was 0500 on Saturday (9 Sep) and we drove 918 miles to Rawlins, WY. It was highway driving all the way: I-40W to I-35N to I-135N to I-70W to I-25N to I-80W. The sun rose just after we crossed in to Kansas.
The weather was great, the traffic was light, and the cruise control kept the tightly-packed 2014 Honda CR-V moving along at 65, 70, 75, and even 80 miles per hour. Skunks took the earlier lead in the dead animal-on-the-road contest. Grassland and sage brush were the dominant features of southern WY.
Words from an old song, …..where the deer and the antelope play…… kept coming into my head. Our hotel for the night was a welcome sight. After checking in, we ordered a pizza and watched the 2nd half of the football game where OU beat The Ohio State University—go Sooners!
Day 2 had us departing at 0700 to drive another 3 and ½ hours to Cokeville in southwestern WY. It’s tucked up against the border where Wyoming, Utah, and Idaho meet. We continued west on I-80. Most of the other traffic was big-rig trucks heading both east and west.
After passing Rock Springs, the Green River, and Little America, we exited on Hwy 30 toward Kemmerer. Traffic thinned out and the cloud cover continued to give way to blue sky. We noticed a lot of these structures on both sides of the road and decided they must have something to do with natural gas production.
Our plan was to fish for Bonneville Cuts on Sunday afternoon and then drive to Pinedale where we would spend 4 nights. That would give us Monday – Wednesday to catch Colorado River and Snake River Cuts and re-attack the Bonnevilles if we weren’t successful on Sunday afternoon. We stopped for gas in Kemmerer and also bought sandwiches at Subway, so we could eat a streamside lunch before we started fishing. Once we reached Cokeville, we followed directions from WY Game and Fish to reach the stream. There were 2 choices: Smith’s Fork of the Bear River or Hobble Creek. Both involved exiting the paved road and driving on gravel. When the road split, we went left for the Smith’s Fork, crossed a bridge, and continued another 10 miles. The road became less smooth and eventually turned to dirt, but was still okay driving in a car. Scott got out and spotted me as I proceeded down a rocky incline. We parked in a flat, grassy pullout just before the now-badly-rutted-road went up a very steep hill. We walked up the hill and could see the water down in the valley below. Small yellowish-tan grasshoppers were everywhere. The stream was about a ¼ mile below this ridgeline.
You could see an all-terrain type vehicle parked near a grove of trees, and well downstream, I could see 3 anglers. We returned to the car, ate our sandwiches, and grabbed our gear.
There was a mix of blue sky and clouds. I decided to wet wade; something I hadn’t done in 10+ years. Turned out to be a great decision and I would repeat it all but 1 day on the trip. I chose my 7’ 9” H-I Tonka Queen paired with a Hardy Hydra loaded with a Peach DT-5 line. We walked back up the steep hill, found the path, and followed it down to the valley below. This was the pool where we started.
The water temperature was 59 degrees; there was no surface activity and no insects in sight. I chose a Dave’s hopper with a size 22 BWO nymph dropper. Not having waders on made it easier to get down the bank and into the water. While Scott finished rigging up, I started in the tail of the pool and worked up the near side where the main current flattened out. This pool was easily 8-10 feet deep. No fish came up for the hopper and I wondered if I was fishing too high in the water column. I returned to the tail of the pool, crossed over, and worked up the far bank to fish the edge of the main seem. First cast—nothing; second cast—nothing. On the third cast, I saw the outline of a good-size fish rising toward my fly in what seemed like slow motion. Its mouth opened wide and it rolled over on the hopper. I delayed for a 2-count then raised the rod. Fish on, and the bend in the rod confirmed it was no 10-incher! Fortunately for me there was no strong current to help the fish. After several runs up and down the deep pool, I slid the net under him. The fish had a dark, broad, heavily-spotted tail, a lot of red color on his head, and a slight hook shape on his lower jaw. The hopper was firmly attached to the back of his mouth, with 1 leg sticking out.
Ten minutes in and the first goal was accomplished; I gave some thought to moving to Wyoming!
We worked our way upstream to avoid the 3 anglers we had seen downstream earlier. Later, I saw them up on the ridgeline, heading upstream riding in the ATV. The water was mix of knee-deep current and pools. Eventually, I removed the hopper and went with a 2-nymph rig. I picked up 2 much smaller Bonnevilles and a half dozen whitefish. Scott had a couple of whitefish then landed his first Bonneville.
I fished a nice pool, but came away empty. Scott was upstream, right where the stream split into 2 channels with a small island separating them. I noticed another guy fishing above Scott, just below where the stream made a sharp bend to the right. He was wearing waders, but was shirtless, which seemed like a strange combination. I walked past Scott and headed upstream wanting to check out the water below the shirtless guy. As soon as he noticed me heading toward him, the shirtless guy crossed the stream through the riffle above him and took off at full speed. It made me wonder what he was up to?
There was a deep pool mid stream, just below the bend—right where the shirtless guy had been. Now I really wondered why he gave up such a fishy looking spot? I was using a weighted stonefly nymph and the BWO nymph. After a few drifts, I hooked another nice fish on the BWO. I ended up chasing him downstream and netted him just above Scott which made for a handy photo opportunity.
A few casts later I caught another whitefish and then hooked another big Bonneville, which eventually broke me off taking both flies. I signaled for Scott to come fish this spot while I re-rigged. He hooked and lost another good sized Bonneville on a Copper John. We started back downstream toward the car, knowing we had a 3-hour drive to Pinedale ahead of us.
It was back down the dirt and gravel road to Cokeville where we picked up Hwy 30 to Kemmerer and then headed north on Hwy 189.
We passed Fontenelle Reservoir on the Green River and continued north through cattle country where ranchers had been busy cutting and bailing hay in the beautiful late-summer weather.
We turned right on Hwy 191 and arrived in Pinedale, where we would spend 4 nights. We had 3 days in front of us to catch a Colorado River and Snake River Cutthroat before heading north to Yellowstone NP.
Monday morning we packed our lunches and loaded our gear back in the car. After a lot of driving the past 2 days, we decided to stay fairly close to Pinedale and fish for Colorado Cutthroats. We chose North Cottonwood Creek for the morning with an option to try South Cottonwood Creek in the afternoon. This is a small stream with about 8 miles of public access in the Bridger-Teton National Forest. After a short drive south on Hwy 189, we turned right and headed west. Like yesterday, the road turned to gravel, but was fine in a car—just really dusty. We followed the directions from WY Game & Fish, plus we had Scott’s GPS and a Gazetteer. We saw a few pickup trucks at pullouts and noticed guys in orange vests walking in the sage brush fields. There were plenty of prong-horns visible from the road, but we thought these guys must be bird hunting. At the Forest Service boundary, I got out of the car to read the info posted on a big board. The part that caught my attention read: Welcome to Bear Country! If I don’t count my 1 day fishing Alaska’s Kenai River while in Anchorage on Air Force business, this trip was our first that involved a real possibility of meeting a bear. We each had a new can of bear spray and a handgun. I joked several times that the gun was really just for shooting yourself in the head if the bear spray didn’t work! Back in the car, we continued west and coming around a bend, we caught our first glimpse of the stream off on the right-hand side. We found a pullout on the left side which had us well off the road, leaving enough room for even a logging truck to drive past.
The stream meandered through the narrow valley; the streamside bushes already had a hint of cool-weather color and there were plenty of pine trees farther up the hillside to provide cover for large animals. I grabbed my Yeti cup, with hot tea, crossed the road and ventured down for a closer look at the stream. It was much smaller than yesterday’s water, harder to access, tighter casting conditions, and—very fishy looking. I yelled back to Scott, “Yes, let’s start here”.
I chose my 7633 Granger Special, put the spare spool with a Hook & Hackle DT-4 in the Hardy Hydra and rigged up. It would be wet wading again today. I attached the bear spray to the waist band of my pack, but decided to leave the gun in the car. The steep banks still had large parts of the stream in the shade, so I wanted a light-colored, high floating fly and a small nymph dropper. I went with a Stimulator and the BWO nymph that catches fish every trip. Before heading down the side of the hill to the stream, we made some noise by blowing the whistles we carry on our old dog tag chains. The only animals we saw all day were free-range cows!
I started in this pool and Scott went upstream. The water temperature was 56 degrees. No signs of fish feeding and no insect activity. I quickly lost my dropper on a submerged branch. I tied on another and headed downstream around this bend since Scott was just a pool or 2 upstream from where I started.
It was still cool and with no surface activity, I swapped my dry fly for a red San Juan worm. I fished 2 more pools without a strike and rounding another bend, came to a really deep pool with the classic undercut bank. Certainly, I would catch a fish here! Still nothing; I put on an olive micro leech and striped it through the deep water, but came away fishless. I went back to the San Juan worm and BWO nymph and headed back upstream. Back in the pool where I started, I hooked my first fish. It was small, just 5 inches, and it was—a Brook trout—not what I wanted.
I continued slowly working my way upstream. About 2 hours later, I caught up to Scott. He had hooked and lost 4 fish—several of which were 12 inches or more—and had landed 1 smaller fish, so he already had his 2nd type of Cutthroat.
He said in the last 2 pools he fished, he saw fish feeding on the top. I went back to the Stimulator with a size 18 Copper John dropper and walked up to fish at the next bend.
Immediately I hooked another fish, but it was also a Brook trout. This seemed like a good time to walk back to the car and break for lunch. We heard a voice and when we turned around and looked back toward the road, we saw a cowboy moving about a dozen cattle through the field between the road and the pine trees.
It momentarily seemed like a scene from an old western movie; however, not far in trail of the horse-riding cowboy was a 2nd cowboy driving a pickup truck. He had a large dog riding in the bed of the truck and the image of the Old West was ruined. We set up the folding chairs in the shade and enjoyed our roadside picnic. Scott asked if I wanted to drive over and check out South Cottonwood Creek. I didn’t want to waste time driving when we could just walk 15 minutes down the road and then fish back toward the car for several hours. The water looked good, we hadn’t seen another person fishing, and I hoped during the afternoon we would find fish feeding at the surface. I said, remember, yesterday we didn’t even start fishing until after lunch and we were both successful.
We walked down the gravel road and kept looking down at the meandering stream in the narrow valley below. We came to a spot where the pine trees were on both sides of the road and then eased our way down the steep bank. The time was 1305. I started in a pool at a 90-degree bend where some fallen trees provided plenty of cover.
Scott continued downstream; I would be out-in-front as we worked our way upstream. There was still no surface activity, but I continued with the Stimulator and swapped out the Copper John for the BWO nymph. The first 2 pools brought no success in my quest for a Colorado River Cut. Coming around another bend, I saw this S-bend pool out in front of me. There was plenty of open area for casting. The dark water along the bank on the left-hand side was too deep to see to the bottom.
I stood in the shallow water mid-stream and cast to a spot 3 feet off the bank. The drift looked good to me. I saw a nice fish rise to my fly, but it turned away after briefly following it downstream. I thought—really, really! I cast right back to the same spot. The fish came up again and this time it didn’t hesitate. The high-floating Stimulator disappeared in a mid-stream swirl—fish on! The fish went deep, but the isolated pocket gave it nowhere to really go. Quickly, the heavily-spotted fish was in the net, and like Scott, I had my 2nd type of Cutthroat in 2 days.
I blew my whistle 1 time—loud and long—so Scott would know I had my fish. He came walking up from downstream to see the picture. Now that we were both successful, we would fish our way upstream leap-frogging pools as we went.
The weather was great, but there was no insect activity and the fishing never heated up. A few pools later, I had another nice Cutthroat rise and follow my fly just below the surface, but it refused my fly and turned away. I cast again. The fish came up again, but turned away well below the surface. What I didn’t realize immediately was it turned away because it had taken the dropper this time. It hooked itself, but the set wasn’t good enough and on the third run downstream the fly pulled free and the fish was off. In the crystal clear water, I saw it head to the undercut bank for cover. I did pick up 2 more 6-inch Brook trout; however, as beautiful as they are—that wasn’t why we drove 1000+ miles!
We headed back toward Pinedale. Just outside of town, my tire low pressure warning light illuminated. When we stopped to gas up, I pumped gas and washed the windows while Scott checked the tire pressure. Two tires were fine at 34 psi; one was at 30 psi; and 1 was at 20 psi. I almost said: hey, check for a nail, but I didn’t. That will become important later! We pulled around the side of the building and topped off the 2 low tires. Back at the apartment, we feasted on chili that Donna and Elizabeth (Scott’s wife and oldest daughter) made; it spent all day heating up in the crock pot.
For Tuesday’s adventure, we decided to head west to the Grey’s River in pursuit of Snake River Cutthroats. This would involve about 90 miles of highway driving from Pinedale to Alpine and then time on the gravel road that paralleled the stream. If you want to catch WY Cutthroat trout in their native streams, you’re going to drive on dusty roads! As I started loading my gear into the car, I remembered to check the tire that was so low the day before; it was completely flat. Right at the top of the tire, I found the screw. We emptied the back section to access the spare tire and quickly had it changed. We drove to a gas station/convenience store and I went inside to ask about where I could have a flat tire repaired. There was a garage across the street, but the girl wasn’t sure when they opened. She also mentioned a tire store that she thought opened at 0900. I walked across the street, but the garage didn’t have their hours posted. As I crossed the street to return to the car, a white pickup stopped in the parking lot. The guy driving it must have been inside the store and heard me ask about getting a flat repaired. He gave me directions to the Dodge dealer in town and said they may open at 0730, which was in just 15 minutes. It turned out to be a great tip; at 0815, we were driving away with the tire repaired and all our gear back in the car.
Our journey to Alpine was delayed even more by 2 road construction zones that narrowed the road to just 1 lane. The flagmen—actually flag girls—stopped cars and then the “follow me” vehicle escorted cars in 1 direction at a time. It was all good; we were on vacation and were still going it get to fish! Along the way, we crossed over the Green River. For quite some time the road ran next to the Hoback River and later the Snake River. Once in Alpine, we turned left and followed Grey’s River Road. We decided to fish upstream from where the Little Grey’s River joined the main Grey’s River. The gravel road made a 90-degree turn where the 2 waters meet. We drove along to the first good pullout on the right-hand side and said: let’s start here.
This was bigger and much faster water than the last 2 days. I went with my waders and rubber-soled boots with metal studs. I selected my 8’, 2-piece Orvis Battenkill with a Medalist reel loaded with a Sylk DT-6 line. My 2-nymph rig was a beadhead Pat’s Rubber-legged stonefly and a size 18 red Copper John. We walked back down the dusty gravel road for 10 minutes and then started to fish. With the flat tire and road delays, it was already after 1100.
The thigh-to-waist-deep water here was big enough for us to fish together. I waded across the stream and Scott stayed on the near side. We would each work up 1 side of the stream, fishing the seams and pockets with a fairly short line.
You need to be careful when wading this type of water. The rocky bottom is very uneven and any misstep could send you for a good dunking. It took 18 minutes for me to meet my 1st WY Snake River Cut.
The 10-inch fish took the stonefly, which, in addition to the large bead, also had .020 wire for extra weight under the coffee/black variegated chenille body. Twelve minutes later I met his twin brother, also on the stonefly. I steadily moved upstream, casting to the likely-looking places then carefully taking a few steps and repeating the process. I kept waiting for a big fish; the kind that slam your fly right after it lands and then bolt downstream using the current to help peel off line. It never happened. I landed 1 additional fish that was half the size of the first two.
There was a lot of traffic on the streamside gravel road; mostly pickup trucks and ATVs. Every time 1 went past, a large cloud of dust would follow along in trail. I could only imagine what our car would look like by the end of the day. I continued upstream and around a bend until I was opposite where we parked the car. I made 5 or 6 attempts to cross over, but even with my wading staff, the water was too strong. I decided it was smarter to just walk back downstream to where we started and cross. As I came around the bend, I saw Scott landing his Snake River Cut. Three days; three streams; and we caught three different types of fish. We were a Yellowstone Cut away from completing the WY Cutthroat Slam.
We stopped and ate lunch in the shade along the side of the road; it was just after 1400 when we finished. We decided to fish a bit more, just upstream from the car. There was no pressure since we both already had a fish. We wanted to be on the road by 1600 knowing it would take almost 3 hours to drive back to Pinedale. The current seams along the edge and the pockets all looked inviting; however, neither of us had a strike in the next 90 minutes.
The drive back was uneventful—no tire low pressure light today. Back at the apartment, I put the casserole in the oven and then headed to the grocery store so I could buy stuff to make a salad. Now we had a decision to make. Since we already had 3 subspecies of fish, Wednesday was a free day. After 5+ hours in the car today and a long drive to Yellowstone on the schedule for Thursday morning, we decided to stay close to Pinedale again and fish a different stream for Colorado Cuts. North Piney Creek, just west of the “town” of Big Piney was our choice.
I'm starting to have trouble posting pictures, so I will close out here and make a separate post for the rest of the trip.
Tight Lines- Ken
