406Life
Active member
Here's some pics and the article I wrote for TU:
There is in each of us a sense of adventure; the pursuit of the unknown regardless of the outcome. It manifests for each of us in different ways. When it comes to chasing fish on the fly, for me it is the cutthroat. Growing up in Montana, the Westslope was never far away. Nearly all the mountain streams had small fish with that luminescent orange slash under their jaw. While there isn’t many other colors to speak of, that distinctive namesake is unmistakable and mesmerizing.
When I heard about the Utah Cutthroat Slam being introduced, I also learned that Wyoming had their own version. Both challenges immediately intrigued me and I set about planning. Last summer I completed my Wyoming Cuttthroat Slam, capping it with a hard earned Yellowstone Cutthroat in Yellowstone Park’s Soda Butte Creek, in sight of the geologic feature and within earshot of the rutting bison. I eagerly looked forward to doing the same in Utah.
My Utah Cutthroat Trout Slam began in February by registering online with the Utah DNR. Living 500 miles north, I needed to do as much research online as possible. My online research was supplemented by local flyshops that gave me insight to fishing Utah waters and target rich streams. I planned on a late July trip knowing that was when the most waters would be open, but the possibility of low water was high.
The snowpack this past winter was low and when late summer came to Utah, many streams were indeed flowing well below normal. This presented the challenge of finding fish willing to bite, and the advice given to me was to “think small.” My preference is for skinny water and that suited me just fine. My favorite rod of the past few seasons has become my fiberglass 2weight. Delicately placing dry flies with ease, it makes small fish feel like giants. My go to fly of choice is the Elkhair Caddis and I tied one on in size #14.
Using the map from the Cutthroat Slam Website, my first stop was in the northwest corner of the state to pursue the Yellowstone Cutthroat. I don’t have a very friendly history with this subspecies and I approached it with trepidation. I headed up into the higher country, looking for the cooler, shaded waters. What I found were Brook trout; plenty of Brook trout. Not being what I was looking for I moved on to another stream. Fish here were hard to find and it was on my way out that I spotted a small pool, about 3 feet wide with a dozen black cows milling about. As I approached I could see a dark shadow and ducked down to avoid throwing my own. The cows stared at me wondering, what the stick was in my hand. A few false casts had me on target and I let the fly drop down. Perhaps while it was still in the air, a trout jumped on it and dove back down. Not having really anywhere to run, the fish played quickly into my net. The coloring on this 10” Yellowstone cuttie was worth the effort. I unhooked the fly, and released it back into the pool with satisfaction.
I head west to the Uintas mountains. The next morning I again climbed into the shaded mountains and found a small stream. My fly from yesterday was still tied on and I cast into the first small pool I encountered. Immediately a small fish was on it, again a brookie. I put it back and climbed this classic babbling brook to the next few ponds. More brook trout were caught and released. Pushing through brush, I cast into the next pool, about 10 vertical feet above the others, caught and landed my Bonneville Cutthroat Trout. It wasn’t much bigger than the spread of my hand and still had parr marks. And now I was half way to completing my Slam. Having caught my second fish on the same fly, the idea of the One-Fly Slam entered my mind. I thought pursuing the slam in three days would be difficult enough, but now I was going to try it finish on this one caddis.
I drove about a couple hours further into the mountains, looking for the Bear River Cutthroat in its native drainage. Sticking with my plan of small waters, I fished many creeks that I easily stepped across. I had heard this was the most difficult of the four subspecies to catch and it took a handful of creeks before I was able to find one willing to take my fly. It never ceases to amaze me the size of fish that come from such tiny pockets of water. This was little more than a puddle and surrounded by tall grass. If you weren’t looking for it, you would never know a trout was swimming there.
The final trout I needed waited for me in the Colorado River drainage. These cutthroat were furthest east on my journey and the roads were rough getting to them. All the previous streams I had had all to myself and it wasn’t until now that I had to share the water. An older gentleman was waiting for his grandson to come from upstream. I hopped in the water and began to fish with the current. My third cast was met with a splash and soon a Colorado River Cutthroat, with a size 14 Elk-hair Caddis in its mouth was lying in my net. I snapped the required picture, released the small fish, and let the sense of accomplishment and satisfaction take over. My Utah Cutthroat Slam, all on the same fly, was done. I walked back to my truck and broke down my rod. I slipped that fly, now retired, into a safe spot to be displayed with my certificate and coin. I didn’t set out to do it that way; like many of the best things, it just happened.
There is in each of us a sense of adventure; the pursuit of the unknown regardless of the outcome. It manifests for each of us in different ways. When it comes to chasing fish on the fly, for me it is the cutthroat. Growing up in Montana, the Westslope was never far away. Nearly all the mountain streams had small fish with that luminescent orange slash under their jaw. While there isn’t many other colors to speak of, that distinctive namesake is unmistakable and mesmerizing.
When I heard about the Utah Cutthroat Slam being introduced, I also learned that Wyoming had their own version. Both challenges immediately intrigued me and I set about planning. Last summer I completed my Wyoming Cuttthroat Slam, capping it with a hard earned Yellowstone Cutthroat in Yellowstone Park’s Soda Butte Creek, in sight of the geologic feature and within earshot of the rutting bison. I eagerly looked forward to doing the same in Utah.
My Utah Cutthroat Trout Slam began in February by registering online with the Utah DNR. Living 500 miles north, I needed to do as much research online as possible. My online research was supplemented by local flyshops that gave me insight to fishing Utah waters and target rich streams. I planned on a late July trip knowing that was when the most waters would be open, but the possibility of low water was high.
The snowpack this past winter was low and when late summer came to Utah, many streams were indeed flowing well below normal. This presented the challenge of finding fish willing to bite, and the advice given to me was to “think small.” My preference is for skinny water and that suited me just fine. My favorite rod of the past few seasons has become my fiberglass 2weight. Delicately placing dry flies with ease, it makes small fish feel like giants. My go to fly of choice is the Elkhair Caddis and I tied one on in size #14.
Using the map from the Cutthroat Slam Website, my first stop was in the northwest corner of the state to pursue the Yellowstone Cutthroat. I don’t have a very friendly history with this subspecies and I approached it with trepidation. I headed up into the higher country, looking for the cooler, shaded waters. What I found were Brook trout; plenty of Brook trout. Not being what I was looking for I moved on to another stream. Fish here were hard to find and it was on my way out that I spotted a small pool, about 3 feet wide with a dozen black cows milling about. As I approached I could see a dark shadow and ducked down to avoid throwing my own. The cows stared at me wondering, what the stick was in my hand. A few false casts had me on target and I let the fly drop down. Perhaps while it was still in the air, a trout jumped on it and dove back down. Not having really anywhere to run, the fish played quickly into my net. The coloring on this 10” Yellowstone cuttie was worth the effort. I unhooked the fly, and released it back into the pool with satisfaction.
I head west to the Uintas mountains. The next morning I again climbed into the shaded mountains and found a small stream. My fly from yesterday was still tied on and I cast into the first small pool I encountered. Immediately a small fish was on it, again a brookie. I put it back and climbed this classic babbling brook to the next few ponds. More brook trout were caught and released. Pushing through brush, I cast into the next pool, about 10 vertical feet above the others, caught and landed my Bonneville Cutthroat Trout. It wasn’t much bigger than the spread of my hand and still had parr marks. And now I was half way to completing my Slam. Having caught my second fish on the same fly, the idea of the One-Fly Slam entered my mind. I thought pursuing the slam in three days would be difficult enough, but now I was going to try it finish on this one caddis.
I drove about a couple hours further into the mountains, looking for the Bear River Cutthroat in its native drainage. Sticking with my plan of small waters, I fished many creeks that I easily stepped across. I had heard this was the most difficult of the four subspecies to catch and it took a handful of creeks before I was able to find one willing to take my fly. It never ceases to amaze me the size of fish that come from such tiny pockets of water. This was little more than a puddle and surrounded by tall grass. If you weren’t looking for it, you would never know a trout was swimming there.
The final trout I needed waited for me in the Colorado River drainage. These cutthroat were furthest east on my journey and the roads were rough getting to them. All the previous streams I had had all to myself and it wasn’t until now that I had to share the water. An older gentleman was waiting for his grandson to come from upstream. I hopped in the water and began to fish with the current. My third cast was met with a splash and soon a Colorado River Cutthroat, with a size 14 Elk-hair Caddis in its mouth was lying in my net. I snapped the required picture, released the small fish, and let the sense of accomplishment and satisfaction take over. My Utah Cutthroat Slam, all on the same fly, was done. I walked back to my truck and broke down my rod. I slipped that fly, now retired, into a safe spot to be displayed with my certificate and coin. I didn’t set out to do it that way; like many of the best things, it just happened.
