Wild Trout Safaris Alaska Trips

June 18th, 2006
Perched in a lawn chair resting under the shade of a tree at Kaysville pond on a hot summer afternoon, I watch my 7 year old, Finn, wrestle what appears to be a very large catfish. As Finn's voice grew louder with every shout of, "dad, Dad, Daaad, DAAAAD," I feared my son was going to make me have to get up out of my comfort and help him. Sure enough, my 12 year old son Mickey, now joined the calls with, "hurry Dad it's huuuge!" With little resolve, I stood like the old man I've become and placed the front part of my feet into my sandals. With my feet barley wedged within, I begin a shuffle-like-waddle down the slope toward the shore. Now en route, I answer the beckon with, "I'm coming, just keep your rod up." Loose sandals in-tow, I reach the beach and view what was about a 35 inch Channel Cat thrashing about just below my son's nearly doubled over 4 foot spin rod. (Yes, he used a worm.) I grabbed the line half way between the rod tip and the fish, then dragged a now rolling monster onto the shore.
Seeing this large, whiskered, pre-historic looking fish out of the water, my son Finn, threw down his rod and yelled, "I'm done fishing." He then ran up to the shade tree where I had been sitting. He stood behind the tree hiding his body behind it's wide trunk. Keeping out of reach of the Cat's side spines, I held the fish up with two hands by the fish's head and shouted back to Finn, "get down here!" With his body still hidden, Finn's face peered around the trunk as he shouted back, "no, I'm afraid." "Why?" I exclaimed, the fish won't hurt you." "Get down here right now and let me measure the fish on against your leg." Finn now looked puzzled. "When we get home, we need to show mom how big it really was." "OK," he said. "But, I'm done fishing." "Fine," I said. Finn then gingerly marched down from the tree toward the bank where Mickey and I stood holding the fish. "Don't worry, I got him," I said to reassure the boy. I held the Cat up against Finn's body. The fish went from the bottom of his tennis shoes to just over his belly button. "Do you want to throw him back?" I said to Finn. "No way, you throw him back Dad," Finn said. With one giant heave I launched the behemoth over the moss bed that lined the shore into a giant splash. Mickey said. "did you see the belly of that fish?" "It was huuuge! I want to catch one like that one." Not me." Finn exclaimed, "I'm done fishing." Well, good I thought, Mickey can rig and cast his own rod. So, I'm having a sit. With Finn out, I can just watch Mickey and be lazy.
Now sitting in my lawn chair, back in the shade, I lifted my hat and I wiped the sweat from my brow with my forearm. It was much cooler in the shade and there was a gentle breeze. Finn was now on the bank in a deep squat trying to net tadpoles. Just as well, now I could really vegetate. As I watched Mickey make a cast into the pond, my mind began to harken back to the fishing year that was. Mickey's bobber landed in the middle of the pond and made rings that moved across the still surface and lapped on to the shore. As my mind drifted, I began to remember the sounds and sights we enjoyed together in the Extreme class 2006. I had such fun in this year's class. I hope you all did too. I thought that all the trips were great, but the last trip, the Big Horn trip, in my mind was the best! The Big Horn trip was a fitting end to a great fishing year. (Let me know which trips you liked the best. I loved reading your opinions about the trips last year in the 2005 Extreme Class.)
On our last trip, we saw some amazing vistas during the drive from Cooke City Mt. (just outside of the N.E. corner of Yellowstone Park) to Ft. Smith MT. via the north west portion of Wyoming, then we headed back north toward Red Lodge Mt.. If you missed this trip you really missed a good one. Maybe the best trip ever. (Some on the trip have said that it was.) The drive over Bear Tooth pass at 11,00 ft., I'll remember for rest of my life! The mountains, the glaciers, the waterfalls, this country in which we live, is so amazing! To think I'm 47 years old and I had never been over that road. That reason right there is why we do the Extreme Class, places like that. The class gets us out to visit these great spots. Had it not been for the class, I may have died without having seen such a place as Bear Tooth Pass! Wasn't that great? I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did.

Our flotilla made it's way to a place we now call, "first hole." It wasn't a moment before people stated hooking up. The fishing was fast. Fish were being taken and so were photos. (Send those photos!) We took mostly Browns in this hole. Well, that was my experience. I got 9 Browns and two Rainbows. I think it depended on which part of the hole you fished. Near the top where Pete, Nate, Lupita, Brent H, Tom and Bob S. were, it was more Rainbows. Our group left at different times from this hole and became a little more spread out as the day wore on. Nate stayed longest and put 20 fish in the net just from "first hole." Our group for the most, gathered again at what we call "Gene's hole" where I made sure all of our students had fish. A few were still without any in the net. Even with fishing that good some need a pump primer. Fishing with Gene, in the hole when I arrived was Stan, Bob E., Tom, Wendy and Jim, who all pulled out some real hogs well over 20". Some students fished across the river like Kent and Dennis. Most of the group appeared to be catching fish everywhere, even from the boats while drifting. Most ended up at a great lunch spot we call "Flying Fish hole." There, I observed many, many pigs get airborne. Mickey really turned it on here landing some nice size rainbows after lunch. He had been a bit frowny for most of the morning. But it was his birthday (12) and he had a lofty goal of double figures for the first time. However, one does not need a lot of fish in this fishery, just a few of the pigs the Big Horn can provide is more than ample for most any fisherman. A black midge in about an #18 was the ticket about mid-day. That best pattern back at first hole was a soft hackle sow in about a size #16. Gene's hole was best with a San Juan worm (purple) or a Cherry Pie blood.

    As we drifted into the pullout spot, there was about three drift boats backed up. No biggy. I said to Mic that this would give us a chance to make a cast in the hole I spoke of earlier. "Where is the hole?" he said. I said, "there," pointing just left of the bow. "There?" he said. The spot didn't look real promising to him, and he thought I was just patronizing him with a hopeless spot so he wouldn't be so sad the float was over. "No," I said. "It's a good spot." "Remember, always trust your guide." With that he began to make a back cast, then a front cast onto the water. Not having, what he believed to be ample line out on his front cast, he then prematurely yanked the line out of the water and looked back seeing his way clear for another back cast, or a recast. Knowing that his first cast was just fine I shouted (as I do) "No!" But it was too late his mind was made and so was most of his recast. But as the line came out of the water so did a medium size Brown trout! "You got one!" I cheered. Feeling the tug and hearing me yelp, he turned to see that it was in fact true. "I knew there was one there," I exclaimed. He had caught the fish in mid-cast, so most of the line was draped all over his lap and around the boat. Therefore, he tussled with the fish by pulling in the line via his index finger rather than trying to get him with the reel. All the while, trying to keep the slack caught up with the a darting and slashing fish. Then, suddenly the line went slack. The fish was off. The loss of the fish was more than reasonable given the fact that a "set" hadn't really occurred. The fish had been hooked, only by the force of a back cast. After the line went slack, so did Mickey's face. So, before recognition off his loss could really settle in, I shouted, "hurry, there's another one there, I'm sure of it!" "Get your line out." With trusting ambition he quickly fired out a back cast, then a front, then a back and let lose with a big front cast. The line soared out and hit the top of the hole, perfectly placing the strike indicator into the subtle current. The indicator had only drifted less than a foot when, bang, it jumped sideways! Mickey was all over it, setting the fish with precision. He had one on! After a good little fight, Mickey led an 18 inch Brown into my out-stretched net. "That's nine Dad," Mickey said with a smile. From behind a shout was heard of "good job Mickey," from what sounded like Jim B.. I turned to see who it was. There, floating behind us was literally a gallery of Pontoon boats parked in the shallow water next to the shore. I raised the net to show the new trophy to clapping hands of what was most of the class. They had gathered to wait to exit the river. Mickey greeted the students by shouting, "that's nine, only one more for double figures." One more I thought to myself? Another fish would be more than a long shot given the fact that we only had ten feet of river left. But, Mickey seemed to think that it was possible. Being just one fish away from his goal had brightened his hopes.The gallery of more than a dozen pontoon boats of students that had collected behind us had given him an added dose of confidence. So I thought, what the heck! "Do you think I can still reach double figures Dad? Mickey inquired. "Sure, I said going with the flow and keeping his hope alive. "Didn't I tell you that you were going to do it today?" "It's your birthday, there is no day luckier than your birthday." In truth I didn't have much choice, we had to try. Besides the whole class was watching. There was no doubt we were going to give it a go.
    I was pretty sure we couldn't have taken another fish out of this hole. Well, at least not in the exact same spot. Our pontoon boat had drifted right over the place where Mickey had taken the Brown. Any fish that remain would have been way spooked. Because Mickey was small and I was unsure he could negotiate the Big Horn safely by himself. Therefore I had tethered his smaller boat to the front my boat with a bungee cord. It worked well. His boat was small enough that it fit in the front of my boat between my pontoons. With him up close like that it was easy for me to navigate him over the best holes. He was perched up in front with optimum casting view, like a fighting chair. Nevertheless, our boat was too far into the this hole to have any hope of being successful again. But to the right of the hole the current was stronger as it poured over much shallower stretch, creating a torrid riffle. "Cast there," I said pointing directly over the bow toward the faster water. It looked pretty good, but most importantly it was our last hope because it was so small that I was sure it was a one drift riffle. Mickey read the run perfectly and placed the cast exactly where I would have thrown had I thrown it myself. The indicator moved quickly thru the fast water. It barley started to hesitate and I was about to say, "set!" When Mickey ripped the rod in a quick down steam motion with his wrist. Pow! Mickey had set it!
    I was truly amazed at that set. It was an amazing set, a textbook set, no, more than textbook, it was an enlightened set. Few fisherman would have recognized that subtle hesitation as a strike, never mind being so in front of it. The front end of a strike is so key. The understanding, the anticipation, the intuition was surprising and commendable! I do believe that it all stemmed from his naive confidence. Boy, do I wish I could teach that concept better in my classes.
   It was a strong set and if it was truly a fish he stuck it well. The line didn't move and seeing how shallow the run was I did feared he had a snag. Not sure if it was a snag or a fish I still said confidently, "you got him." Watching to see if the line was going to move we waited, and waited. Mickey lifted his line in the air but it stayed firm. If it was a fish it was a pig because the line was not moving. And then, it did. It moved! IT WAS A FISH! And It was a PIG!
    The fished moved down steam with the current, bad. But then it turned back up current, good. Behind us the students were cheering! Nate the only student on the front side of the rivers braid shouted to Mickey lots of positive support. I can't remember what he was saying I was too focused. But I know Mickey was listening. The whole class was witnessing this battle and pulling for Mickey. In my coaching voice, well a little calmer than unusual, I gave the basic stuff like, "keep your rod up, let him run if he wants," and so on. I got a quick glance at the fish as it swam back up current and yep, it was a pig. "I said to Mickey in a steady but calm voice, "Oh Mic, it's a pig, and you're going to get him."
    The fish moved back down current and was getting hard to turn, it was using the current to it's advantage. With that, I started to row the boat toward the fish at first then quickly turned the boat to the left to get up current on the fish to give Mickey a better angle to work the fish. Just as I had hoped, the fish turned toward us and then to the right giving back to Mickey, the upper hand. Mickey did well in using the tactic to gain line on the fish. The fish was close now I could see it clearly, yes, it was a monster! Better still, I could see the fly in the fish's mouth and it was a good hook-up. The fly was in the upper lip and in, nice and deep. Perfect I thought. My confidence soared, so I paddled the boat to the other side of the riffle and spun the stern 180 degrees to the left letting the bow face the fish from the other side. This allowed us to drift toward the fish keeping the fish out of the current. As we drifted down current toward the fish, Mickey brought in more line.
    This was it, the pig was in reach. Mickey had his indicator maxed at the top of his rod. I grabbed the net and looked for where to get out of the boat. Seeing an angle that looked good I tried to athletically elevate my butt up and over the oarlock and out of the boat. But, I failed to get the needed elevation and my ass came down right on the lock. The gallery of students laughed at my metal enema. I shouted back at them, I'm getting to old for this shit."
    I arched again and launched myself out of the boat but by now I had miss my window and we had drifted into deeper water. Now in waist deep water, I crawled up on a small sand bar where I had better footing. Spotting the fish near the pontoon, I made a great scoop and I had him! I lifted the fish out of the water and balanced him on the net because it's head and tail hung over at both ends. It didn't fit in the net, but we still got him. Nate now in clear view saw the fish and exclaimed, "it really is a big fish!" As if he had be skeptical earlier. I turned to Mickey and announced, "double figures." He slapped my hand with the crack of a "high five."

    OK! Now the big announcement! Here goes: I have opened my own fly shop! Yep! It's called: Mickey Finn's Fly Box. "Piper" Jim is going the help me with it. I just signed the paperwork yesterday. The shop is located on Main Street in Kaysville. The doors will open sometime in September. I hope you will all support my shop by picking up all your supplies there. The shop will facilitate these classes. Not the other way around. My priority is still these classes, I'm keeping them just how we've been doing it. But you see, now that James has closed Hooked, there is a need. I hope it all works out. It will, with you guys visiting me there. I'm open to suggestions.
    And now for next year's Extreme Class (Fishing Club) line up. Next year we are keeping three trips and dumping two. We are adding two new destinations to the line up to make up for the ones we are dropping - just to keep the class interesting. We will start with the Gallatin River in Montana in February. However, next year the Gallatin will be a two day trip. Then, we will head back to the Roaring Fork River in Colorado. But this time, we will fish it in March. It fishes much better with snow on the banks before the run-off starts. In April we are heading to a new spot, and that spot is; the Big Wood River in Idaho. The Big Wood is a charming river, with monster size rainbows in central Idaho. It should be good fun staying in Sun Valley for two days with this trip. (Also, there is a little "off the record," surprise associated with that trip: Here it is: we are fishing one day on the Salmon River near Stanley, for Steelhead. The Salmon river is not more than an hour from Sun Valley. The Steelhead run peaks at that time. Keep that part of the trip under your hat. I don't want someone to join us in the class just for the Steelhead part of the trip.) It is only a side trip, no biggy. We do stop at other fisheries that are not on the fishing list from time to time. You guys already know this. It is how we operate in the Extreme Class. Well, this is just one of those stops. Trip four in June, is back to the Big Horn River in Montana. If it's anywhere close to as good as this year's trip, you will love it. And then, trip number five, by popular demand, we will finish the class later in the summer with a hike to the "Dry Fly," capital of the world, Slough Creek.
    How about that? Not bad huh. Remember, the destinations are great, but it's really you guys that make the trips so fun.
If I left some people out of this e-mail/blog, please forward this and other e-mails on to them. Let me know if you want off this list too. I have some addresses without names and I don't know who every address is. I'm sorry if these e-mails are bothersome. Others, I'm not sure why, didn't get every e-mail, they somehow got left off the list, but still would like to be included. Please hook these people up for me in a forward, OK? I put numbers to the blog. This was #4. I'm off to Alaska now. So, I'll say, see ya until August. Send photos!!!! -Tight lines, mike.

.....As I was saying, the last trip of the 2006 class may have been our best ever. Twenty-two students (some wives and one husband too) made the long journey to Ft. Smith, Montana, the head waters of the Big Horn River. The Big Horn is a world famous tail-water dating back to early 1930's when the CCC's built Yellowtail Reservoir on the Crow Indian Reservation. Today it is still a prolific fishery harboring many, many large Browns and Rainbows.
We started the trip where the Advanced class had finished; Lewis Lake in Yellowstone Park. I fuse the two different class trips to break up the long drive to the Big Horn. After loading Mickey and I's pontoon boats, we left Lewis Lake where we had pretty good fishing. I landed a half dozen Lake trout and Mickey got a few as well. The students did OK too, taking mostly Macs with few Brown trout mixed in. However, we did encounter an over zealous, rookie Park Ranger. (Not all the Park Rangers are that way. Most are very nice. The Ranger last year at Lewis, sat down and had a pancake and sausage breakfast with us.) The guy this year was a jerk, stealing some valuable fishing time from us during the best part of the fishing day. Creep!
The drive to Cooke City, just out of the park to the North West gate, was great. We encounter two bears one Black and one Grizz. We didn't even stop and view them. I was thinking of our favorite restaurant in Cooke. I can't remember the name but I do enjoy the place. Arriving at our destination about 8pm. We checked in to the Alpine Motel in a truly amazing town. I just Love Cooke City. (I know you do too Lupita!) I have to make up reasons just to go to this place. Most all of the students had already arrived. So they accompanied us to our favorite eating spot. It has a European feel but located in the most rustic American town I know. You have to like garlic to eat here, kuz they pile it on. I do, maybe that's why I love it. Mickey of course ordered the ribs, which is more food then he can eat in a week. The evening was warm and it stays light was past 10pm in Montana, it was perfect. ("Almost Arctic in length," to quote McClaine.)

....After Mickey took a few photos of his 24 inch Rainbow (photo included with next e-mail) the gang pulled our pontoon boats from the Big Horn river, with everybody helping each other. That's the hallmark of the class, everybody helps everybody. It is why you should take the class if you haven't already. It's more fun to share the fun with friends that you have grown to care about. We all look out for each other. After all, what's a "hole-in-one" if you are on the golf course all alone? The same is true with fishing, a big fish or a cool moment is made better with someone to share. I have fished by myself and I've fished with friends, and friends are better. We all need friends and we find them in venues like the Extreme Class. Many in our group have become best friends. I don't need to name names, you know who are. Oh, and yes, some have found the love of their life (won't name names.... well maybe one.... "Piper" Jim and Jana, met in my class). We all have different backgrounds and lifestyles and that is what makes the group so fun. I call it a class, but it really more like a club. Bob S. calls our gang, "Mike's Fish'en Club. I'm down with that. We really should call this a club not a class.
You really don't have to be an accomplished fisher-person to join us, even though some would argue that fishing is our binder. I really think it is something bigger, I believe, it's a need to "live," our lives. The key word here, being LIVE. Not just breathe, sleep, eat and work. I mean really live! How many days in our lives do we really own? A day on the river actually is yours! A day that you own. The class helps us collect days in our lives that really matter, days that really count, days that, "we own."
Well the gang went back to the room after we loaded up. Dinner was at Paully's Place, a local diner. It was good and it wasn't because of the chicken-fried steak. It was because of each other. A big table where everyone belongs. No judgement, just humans enjoying humans - friends! We do this eating ritual before and after every fishing day. We meet at a restaurant and enjoy each other's company. I write about the fishing, but this is the part of the trip that really matters it's my favorite part. Like Jeff A. says, "I come for the breakfast."