Articles

Idaho in Winter - Part II

by Chris Hunt - Wednesday, Feb 5th, 2014

The zebra midge is a wintertime favorite on rivers everywhere, not just in Idaho.

Crest the ridge on Fisherman’s Drive overlooking the Henry’s Fork, and it’s easy to see why this river contains the closest thing to Holy Water that can be found without the Pope’s blessing. Even in the dead of winter, its banks blanketed in snow and its edges glassed with a thin sheen of ice, this river simply looks sacred.

Certainly there are more sacred stretches, however, but I’ve always found myself drawn to this length of the Henry’s Fork. Here, below the confluence with the Warm River, it slices through a foothill canyon and tumbles and rolls through a series of riffles and runs for about 10 miles before it slams against Ashton Dam. Fish in this stretch have shoulders—they have to.

And I love this run of water in the winter—starting about right now through March, as the days get a longer and the fleeting sunshine hits the river a few minutes longer than the day before, swarms of midges and, later, blue-winged olives, hatch along this reach and bring the rivers browns and rainbows to the top. Whitefish, too, live in this water, and they’re dependable winter fare, as well.

Idaho in Winter - Part I

by Chris Hunt - Thursday, Jan 30th, 2014

The Black Canyon stretch of the Bear River is one of the few public access points on this river in eastern Idaho (photo: Heidi Oberstadt).

There comes a time when the notion of casting through icy guides or standing in frigid water in search of trout feels more like a chore than an actual fishing endeavor.

But sometimes the urge is simply too great—particularly on familiar water where the exploration process isn’t as important as past knowledge. The elements are easier to handle if you know, generally, what’s coming.

Such is the case with Idaho’s Bear River as it runs through Black Canyon near the little farming town of Grace and just over Fish Creek Summit from the resort community of Lava Hot Springs. This is one of only a handful of public access points to the Bear in Idaho that’s easily reached by the public—a cooperative arrangement between Idaho Fish and Game and Pacificorp allows anglers to visit this gorgeous stretch of river in southeastern Idaho, where rainbows and native Bonneville cutthroat trout can be dependably targeted.

And winter might be the best time of year to pay this stretch of river a visit.

Culverts: Big Problem, Simple Solution.

by Chad Shmukler - Tuesday, Jan 28th, 2014

Dam removal is receiving a great deal of attention lately, and deservedly so. On many of the nations rivers, especially larger ones, dams have become outdated, costly and inefficient. Dams have also long blocked fish passage, disrupted habitat, and damaged or destroyed wild fish populations. Overwhelmingly positive results have been observed where dams have been removed, with rivers' surging flows recreating long lost habitat and wild fish returning to the river to spawn in sections of river they've not been able to reach -- in some cases -- for over a century. Dam removal, however, is costly and often involves a considerable amount of bureaucratic struggle in order to implement. As a result, while dam removal is a growing trend, the time frame surrounding these projects span many years, often decades.

But dams -- whether they be the ones that drive major hydro-electric generation stations or simple irrigation diversion dams -- aren't the only widespread barrier to fish passage on many of our streams and rivers. Culverts, which are incredibly common throughout virtually every region of the country, often pose just as serious an impediment to fish passage and an equally significant threat to fish habitat and populations, only with a much simpler and less costly solution.

Stacked Up Like Cordwood

by Mike Sepelak - Monday, Jan 27th, 2014

Carolina Redfish

We slept in. Alarms set for 6:30. Not because we were slugs, mind you, but because we needed the sun to melt the ice glaze from the Ankona’s decks and to begin to warm the frigid salt marsh waters. It seemed to make sense, hanging in the trailer a bit longer, and had nothing to do with the jumble of dead soldiers sitting on the kitchen table.

Despite our delay, it still felt early when we arrived at the launch, the sun not yet separated from the eastern horizon. Early, that is, until we found that the duck hunters were already taking out, stout johnboats draped in camouflage and full of dark decoys, their sporting day already done. A different breed, duck hunters. Hardy or crazy, I’m not quite sure which.

Tough morning, the men said. More bird watching than hunting. They hoped that the fishing would be better.

“You after drum?” asked a close-cropped lad as he pulled off his gloves and shook himself out of his thick camo coat. “Saw a ton over on Boar, maybe a half mile down. Stacked up like cordwood. If I’d had a dip net I could have filled the boat.” We’d intended on hitting King’s, thinking they’d be where we’d found them a couple of weeks earlier, but fishing plans change when the intel is fresh. We pointed the skiff east, instead of west, out of the launch.

Pages