by | Aug 8, 2011 | Uncategorized | 2 comments

Tonight Granny and I stopped at an old favorite, the New Zealand stretch of the most obvious and under fished river in Yellowstone. A ½ mile long section of water that probably only has about 25 big trout, but they’re browns that aren’t just big, they’re huge. And they are the most beautifully colored browns I’ve ever found on this continent.

I fell in love with this place when I lived in Jackson, Wyoming in the late 80’s and early 90’s. I loved the trout here so much I fished this river most days off and every Saturday night for years. I made the nearly two hour jaunt the minute I left the fly shop at 6 PM just so I could fish for a little more than an hour. That magic hour after the sunset was always best anyhow.

Not only are the brown trout huge, they are tricky to catch. When anglers think of brown trout they immediately think of stripping huge streamers. Streamers rarely work here. What’s unique about this place is that the browns thrive on eating insects – mostly the tiny ones. This slow moving piece of water is the most challenging dry fly playground I know and the browns here often make the rainbows of the Harriman Ranch on the Henry’s Fork seem stupid. The difficulty of catching even a single fish in an outing here is what attributed to me becoming a half way decent dry fly fisherman over the years. The place taught me incredible patience. I mastered the art of finding and stalking elusive browns without giving them the slightest hint I existed. I learned to present and drift a dry fly along for 40 feet if needed. And most important of all, I learned to make the first cast count.

This place is a long drive from Victor, Idaho so these days I might fish here one evening a summer. Sounds crazy and this fact bothers me. But Victor, Idaho has its own cool places to fish nearby. Not to mention here in Victor we’re only 45 minutes to the Henry’s Fork. Regardless, I dream of this place all the time so tonight was a special night and I’ve been excited all day long.

Granny and I arrived at my old stomping ground at about 6:30. Darkness sets in about 9:15 so I had nearly three hours to fish – again, the best time of day to be here. Granny was whipped from work and opted to relax in the car. It was a little breezy as I wadered up amongst a wall of mosquitoes, but by the time I started stalking the banks the wind all but stopped. The lake like section of river was a mirror. I could see if a fish rose a 100 yards any direction as I stood and stared. For the first 20 minutes there was nothing but then finally I saw a small rise.

Here, often the smaller and more subtle the rise, the bigger the fish. If you see a dimple that barely breaks the surface beware. Better yet, if you hear a sip but can’t locate where it came from expect a huge trout nearby. The rise I saw was small but left a few bubbles. Big trout don’t leave bubbles. They know how NOT to draw attention from predators. The little guys are still learning. I watched the little guy for another ten minutes or so hoping to see what I wanted but didn’t. So to get a little practice, I moved in on the smaller trout hoping he was one of the rare 12” brook trout I used to catch here. But he wasn’t. On my first cast I nailed him and he was no more than a 10” gorgeous little brown. I shook him loose and went back to the hunt.

It wasn’t till 8 or so that I spotted my first excitingly large brown. He didn’t making the tiny sip I was looking for but rather exploded on a dancing crane fly along a grassy bank. Normally an aggressive feed like this comes from a hungry and easier than normal to catch 19 incher. As I crept up the bank to make my cast from behind another trout rose out in mid river. From my glimpse of his rise he appeared much bigger. Stupidly, without putting any thought into it, I launched a cast. Remember earlier I said, “And most important of all, I learned to make the first cast count.” well, this cast was a joke! What the hell was I doing? Twenty years ago, even ten years ago I never would have made such a hasty cast. And sure enough, not only did I scare away this big fish from the middle of the river, but my bank feeder spooked too. It, I, was a disaster!

I went on to have my worst fishing performance of the year. I could do no right. I screwed up a couple other nice fish with my lack of patience. Then I finally got a pig to eat and I missed him. What caused me to work too fast was that the whole night clouds were building up. There were thunderstorms approaching and once thunderstorms hit here the fishing ends abruptly. Sure enough, just when I stopped swearing over the missed fish the brewing thunderstorm cut loose and my glassy calm playground turned to a frothing sea of whitecaps. My night was over and the fish had brutalized me!

It’s the difficulty factor (and mosquitoes) that protects this secret place. I know only about three friends that can catch fish here with regularity. And even they, like me tonight, can get their butts handed to them on any given outing. Its places like this and situations like tonight that make us better anglers. I could have run to easier fisheries every day off when I was in my twenties but I wouldn’t have learned what I have. And tonight I relearned what I forgot.

It’s 12:45 AM and Granny and I just pulled into some trees down some dirt road outside of the East Entrance of Yellowstone to sleep. Normally I’d sleep under the stars but this area is grizzly infested and so far this year the bears are a little unpredictable to say the least. We’re sleeping in the back of the Exploder. Tomorrow we meet my sister Becky and family to fish the Lakes of Cody, Wyoming. I intend to apply lessons learned this evening!


  1. Anonymous

    Love the story Jeff. Reminds me of many late evenings, been eaten alive by mosquitoes, at this spot. I feel the lack of fishing a location makes a person rush things and as you would know best, you shouldn’t be in a rush when fishing to fish like these. I have the same experince at the Ranch the limited times that I fish there the past few years and can’t seem to relax and enjoy the experience.

    Love the great stories and glad Trey showed me your blog. I’m quite envious, but glad to know somebody is still bumming around.

  2. Jeff Currier - Global Fly Fishing


    Great to hear from you. Man, its been years! I’m glad your checking out the blog. And you know exactly what I’m talking about here. Good news though, I will carry my lesson to the HF next week. The bows will be very very sorry!

    Keep in touch

Welcome to the Blog of Jeff Currier!

Contact Jeff

I started fly fishing at age 7 in the lakes and ponds of New England cutting my teeth on various sunfish, bass, crappie and stocked trout. I went to Northland College in Ashland, Wisconsin, where I graduated with a Naturalist Degree while I discovered new fishing opportunities for pike, muskellunge, walleyes and various salmonids found in Lake Superior and its tributaries.

From there I headed west to work a few years in the Yellowstone region to simply work as much as most people fish and fish as much as most people work. I did just that, only it lasted over 20 years working at the Jack Dennis Fly Shop in Jackson, WY where I departed in 2009. Now it’s time to work for "The Man", working for myself that is.

I pursue my love to paint fish, lecture on every aspect of fly fishing you can imagine and host a few trips to some of the most exotic places you can think of. My ultimate goal is to catch as many species of fish on fly possible from freshwater to saltwater, throughout the world. I presently have taken over 440 species from over 60 countries!