Rewind to the Summer of 2014: I had just graduated college only to be spit out into adult world of jobs, rent, and paying for food; however, before diving into that world I wanted one last summer for play. I decided that I needed a job in or around Northwest Fly Fishing Mecca aka: Montana/Idaho. Somehow, I managed to get a job at The Henry's Fork Lodge in Island Park, Idaho on the famous headwaters of the Snake River - The Henry's Fork. Now, the Henry's Fork is arguably one of the best if not the best (Depending upon who you ask) dry fly river in the continental United States, and anglers come from all over the world to take a shot at its big, selective rainbows. The river is very unique in terms of appearance - it meanders through the open plains of the Island Park Caldera in an almost spring creek-like manner and is incredibly wide, yet perfectly wade-able averaging 3-4 feet deep. Aquatic vegetation flourishes and grows abundantly in the river which in-turn allows for an abundance of bugs! Caddis, PMD's, March Browns, Green Drakes, Brown Drakes, Flavs, Tricos, Hoppers, Salmon flies - these hatches are what give the Henry's Fork its reputation and which also allow the local rainbow trout population to grow to incredible sizes averaging a healthy 16 - 24 inches - Its like a huge all-you-can-eat Bug Buffet for Trout. But it gets better, given the fly fishing only and catch and release restrictions on the Henry's Fork, every fish that gets caught goes right back in, resulting in fish that have learned the difference between food and fly the hard way over time, we're talking really smart fish.....almost frustratingly smart, but in a good way.
The Henry's Fork - Yep, you can wade across the whole thing. |
Stealth and excellent presentation, as I learned, are necessities on the Henry's Fork if you want to have any shot at one of its trophy rainbows. This isn't the kind of place where you can float a big attractor pattern over a good looking run or riffle, No, small, exact imitations and light tippets are the weapon of choice on the Henry's Fork. Easy Right? ......Wrong! Before you can test your fly or your presentation you have to find and sneak up on an actively feeding fish - I don't know how many times I would be almost within casting reach of a fish after wading slowly and quietly only to see its wake dart off because it caught sight of me, or because I did something stupid (usually it was the later). You are probably starting to get the point now - These fish don't come easy to a fly, and they rarely put their guard down. It took a month of almost daily fishing for me to land my first big trout - On a size 18 beetle.
My First (Sizable) Henry's Fork Rainbow - I forgot how to take a picture with a fish in the excitement. |
Okay, so there are a few hatches that really get the fish going: Most notably the Green Drake, Brown Drake, and Honey Ant Hatches. Now, I had fished the Green and Brown Drake hatches in late June/early July with variable success, and I even caught my biggest fish, a 24 inch Football Shaped Rainbow Monstrosity, one late morning on a size 12 Green Drake. These hatches are predictable, fun to fish, and certainly get the fish going, but it is the latter, the honey ants that carry an almost mythical reputation on the Henry's Fork. Unlike the Drakes, the honey ants are not predictable. The hatches are localized and sporadic - You might catch it one day for 15 minutes, and the next day it will happen 3 miles upstream for two hours. The Fish however, go FREAKING BONKERS for these little guys. The closest human equivalent might be something like throwing a wad of 100$ bills into the air at a packed food court, just picture the chaos.... I talked to multiple Henry's Fork veterans who had tried to predict these hatches to no avail, it is seemingly random.
Honey Ants- They Look Something Like This |
Now its early August. I have been hearing from various guides and friends that the Honey Ants are out in huge numbers, and plenty of guests at the lodge had seen them too. I had been having luck with a little size 14 black and purple hi-vis ant, but I had never actually seen a honey ant on the water - like I said...Mythical. It just so happened that this particular morning I was completely alone on whats referred to as the 'Last Chance' section of the Henry's Fork, which is the section of river immediately upstream of the boundary at Harriman State park. The morning had been fairly productive, fish were feeding and I believe that I may have already hooked one or two fairly large fish with my hi vis ant.
The Stretch of River at Last Chance right after Sunset. |
The afternoon was quickly approaching which usually meant slower fishing until the hatches started up again a few hours later, and I was beginning to think about calling it a day with work looming later that afternoon. As I worked my way across the river towards my car I began to hear the familiar sound of fish rising, but not just one or two, no, this was way more. These were big splashy rises which I normally would associate with a caddis hatch. As I waded closer to the rises, maybe 20 or 30 feet off the bank, I could see the trout. There must have been 20 or 30 fish rising non-stop, like sharks in this tiny section of river, and I mean these were the big boys, the trout that make the Henry's Fork so famous. Having never seen anything like this before I was completely dumbfounded, 'What's gotten into these fish?', I wondered. Suddenly, it dawned on me - It must be Honey Ants!
I looked down at the water, and in complete disbelief saw the water film coated with hundreds, maybe thousands of little black and brown winged ants. Words really do not do this sight justice - ants were beginning to crawl up my waders and arms like something out of a horror movie. I clumsily reached around and brought my sling pack in front of me, pulling out a box that contained my honey ant patterns. Somehow, despite my increased heart rate and unsteady hands, I managed to tie a size 14 honey ant on my line and lifted my head to pick out a target.
Honey Ant Fly |
Clearly the fishing gods were smiling upon me in that moment - there was no shortage of fish within 20-30 feet of me and none of them seemed to notice my presence in the slightest. I cast my fly just ahead of what I thought to be one of the bigger fish and let it float over his head. With a splash he took one of the real ants just next to mine, and that was when I realized I had a whole different problem: With so many real ants on the water, the chances of a fish taking my fly were actually quite small. In that moment, fly fishing became a game of probability with very little skill involved, I mean these fish could have cared less if you were using climbing rope as long as there was a honey any on the end of it.
Again and again I cast my line to different fish, and every time the fish chose one of the ants - now this was frustrating! I moved around trying to put as many casts out there as I could thinking that eventually a fish would take my fly. I looked across the river at a fallen log jutting out maybe 7 or 8 feet from my position - It was black, completely covered with ants. I heard another splash just to my left, behind one of the big sub-surface boulders that litter the river. I threw my fly just above the riffle and watched as it floated down to the spot where I saw the splash. Water erupted around my little honey ant as the fish nailed it. I set the hook immediately, stripped in my line with my left hand pulling it tight on the fish. This was a big one, and it wasted no time heading down river ready to make me pay for interrupting its part in the feeding frenzy.
Playing a fish this late in the summer was tricky to say the least mainly because of the long and thick aquatic vegetation that had been growing over the summer. If a fish got into those 'weeds' then it was almost surely game over. I had found that the best way to combat this was by moving downstream pulling the fish along and not giving it the chance to dive into the weeds. This fish, however, had a different idea, and not even ten seconds after hooking it I felt the lifeless pull of the weeds on the end of my line, he was off. No matter, there were still plenty of fish gorging themselves on the ants. I pulled my line out of the weeds and was pleased to see that my fly was still tied on. Glad to catch a little break, I reeled a little line in and looked for a head to cast at.
I picked out what I thought was another sizable rainbow feeding a few feet out from and slightly below the log in the river. The fish was feeding consistently on the ants with big, splashy rises. Without too much thought I put a cast out above the fish and allowed it to float right over - ANOTHER SPLASH, and another fish on. This time I was not going to let him down into the weeds, so I started walking down river, pulling the fish along as I went. This was another huge Henry's Fork Rainbow, and he was not going down without a fight, but after numerous close calls in the weeds I brought him in and landed him. I was about 30 yards downstream of where I hooked him , right on the bank under some shrubs. It was a beautiful fish, long and healthy, just like the rest of the Henry's Fork Trout. I held the fish in the water for a minute or two, allowing him to recover from the fight. He was such a beautiful and powerful creature, and I was lucky enough to share a connection with him for those moments in the dry northwest sun. Eventually he slipped out of my grasp holding his position in the water right next to my feet, as if he knew that he was no longer in danger.....that I would not hurt him.
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Playing a fish this late in the summer was tricky to say the least mainly because of the long and thick aquatic vegetation that had been growing over the summer. If a fish got into those 'weeds' then it was almost surely game over. I had found that the best way to combat this was by moving downstream pulling the fish along and not giving it the chance to dive into the weeds. This fish, however, had a different idea, and not even ten seconds after hooking it I felt the lifeless pull of the weeds on the end of my line, he was off. No matter, there were still plenty of fish gorging themselves on the ants. I pulled my line out of the weeds and was pleased to see that my fly was still tied on. Glad to catch a little break, I reeled a little line in and looked for a head to cast at.
The Henry's Fork inside Harriman State Park - Notice the aquatic vegetation |
I picked out what I thought was another sizable rainbow feeding a few feet out from and slightly below the log in the river. The fish was feeding consistently on the ants with big, splashy rises. Without too much thought I put a cast out above the fish and allowed it to float right over - ANOTHER SPLASH, and another fish on. This time I was not going to let him down into the weeds, so I started walking down river, pulling the fish along as I went. This was another huge Henry's Fork Rainbow, and he was not going down without a fight, but after numerous close calls in the weeds I brought him in and landed him. I was about 30 yards downstream of where I hooked him , right on the bank under some shrubs. It was a beautiful fish, long and healthy, just like the rest of the Henry's Fork Trout. I held the fish in the water for a minute or two, allowing him to recover from the fight. He was such a beautiful and powerful creature, and I was lucky enough to share a connection with him for those moments in the dry northwest sun. Eventually he slipped out of my grasp holding his position in the water right next to my feet, as if he knew that he was no longer in danger.....that I would not hurt him.
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