Day 7:TTFFT On to Idaho and The Henry's Fork, The SuperBowl of Dry Fly Fishing.



It's Friday, Day 7 of the Tailwater Tribe Fly Fishing Tour.  I awoke from my post at the Westwood Inn in West Yellowstone, Montana early, grabbed a tank of gas for Darth and got a cup of joe.  I jumped on Highway 20 which runs Southwest of West Yellowstone into Idaho.  Thirty miles later I arrived in Island Park, ID and paid a visit to Trout Hunters Fly Shop (see my link under "My Favorite Fly Shops."),  These guys were extremely helpful with directions and flies.  Found out that the PMDs were coming off en masse and that I was right on the "cusp" of the Green Drake hatch.  With plenty of information and directions in hand, I departed down Idaho Highway 20 for Harriman's Ranch.  I parked across the road, put on the waders and boots, assembled the Scott G2 and was off to the Ranch!  There are no vehicles allowed on Harriman's Ranch property, so I had a 1.1 mile hike into the Henry's.  The scenery was breathtaking in this scrub prarie landscape.  Sagebrush, wildflowers, and ground squirrels were everywhere, snowcapped mountains in the distance.  It would be another 30 minutes before I would actually see the river and my anticipation was high.  Finally, I spied the legendary Henry's Fork, a river that has haunted my dreams ever since I read about it in Field and Stream magazine when I was in high school.  I crossed the Harriman's Ranch bridge and began searching for rising fish.  It didn't take long.  As soon as I got down to the water's level, the air began to fill with PMDs, Spinners, Duns...they were everywhere!  Right below the bridge the fish were exploding out of the water, eating mayflies.  With a 12' 6x leader, I tied on a PMD dry and began fighting the wind and my nerves to make smooth casts and drag-free drifts.  I was indeed at the Super Bowl of dry fly fishing, not on the sidelines or in the stands, but on the field.  After a few refusals from finicky rainbows, I hit pay dirt and landed my first Henry's Fork trout.  A culmination of a lifelong dream.  I took a couple others, when I heard something Big buzz by my head.  I also noticed that these big bugs were now drifting across the film and that the trout had ramped up their aggressive feeding behavior to another level.  The Green Drake hatch was on!  I quickly changed flies, tying on one of the Trout Hunters Green Drake dry patterns and bam!  I was now catching explosive fish on these big bugs.  I was in dry fly heaven.  I would like to say that this hatch lasted several hours, but it didn't.  But fish continued to rise throughout the afternoon and I even fooled a few more.  After taking a dozen or so fish on PMD and Green Drake dries, the afternoon sun was waning and I had a long hike home.  On the way back toward Montana, I stopped in at Trout Hunters Last Chance Bar and had a cold PBR to celebrate my good fortune.  God had indeed blessed me that day and I soaked in the ambience of the place, fishing guides sitting at the bar, talking about their day.  It was really hard for me to leave, but somehow I drug myself out and headed back to the Westwood Motel in West Yellowstone.  I slept like a baby, but around 2 a.m. I was awakened by the loudest noise I'd ever encountered short of a hurricane.  A storm of pea-sided hail was pelting the metal roof of my cabin!  When it subsided, I got out of bed and opened the door.  My wading boots and sandals outside the door were completely buried with white hailstones!  This would be the first of two hailstorms that I would face, but more on that later.  The next day I had to drive to Bozeman to work on my master's thesis that I would present at Montana State University on Tuesday.  Back to reality!  Oh well, my adventure had just began.  I was living the dream and good to be me.  I'll leave you with Tom Petty as I head to Bozeman with visions of the Frying Pan, Green, Firehole, Madison, Gibbon, and now...Henry's Fork trout dancing in my head!  

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