Box Canyon of the Henry's Fork

Every year around Memorial Day, certain large aquatic bugs leave the sunken boulders they have called home and crawl toward the shore of my favorite river, -the Henry’s Fork of the Snake in Idaho. Once out of the water the nymphs cling to a nearby rock or branch, and from inside their armored shells they emerge as Salmon Flies:

For a trout, the start of this hatch means the start of a thanksgiving feast. For a week or so, Salmon Flies hover over the water to mate and then fall onto the river to lay their eggs. This hearty, easy meal entices the usually bottom-feeding big fish to come to the water's surface; and such fish are also the reason I've come to the water’s surface for the last three years in a row.

Last year plans with friends fell through, and my ever-patient wife decided she'd rather go with me than have me go alone, so off we went. There is no better way for her to tell me she loves me than to put up with pouring rains while trying to read...

...hail storms putting holes in the tent...

...and grizzly bears...

...all so that I can hook into a few six-pound rainbows. The trout in Box Canyon are not only fat, they're smart, and they use the river's swift current to their advantage. On more than one drive home I've found myself favoring my left arm for the steering wheel because of the soreness in the other "fish-fighting" arm.

On every trip so far I've been able to watch Osprey bring fish to their nest overlooking the canyon.

Here I am casting, wondering if Courtney has taken the picture yet. Turns out she was taking a video.

You can't see this in Nebraska!

My conversion to trail cameras

My buddy Jake and I went camping this weekend. It was my last alpine adventure before my wife and I move to flat, corn-covered, elk-less Nebraska in a few days. We hiked up and down canyons, stayed up till 3 AM telling stories around the campfire, and caught several trout on our fly rods, - all in our favorite little elk-hunting hole in Utah. He was lucky enough to draw a tag to hunt a big bull elk this year, so we spent most of our time looking for one. I've hunted elk for years, but this year I found something that will change the way I hunt from now on.

This is it. It's a camera that you leave in the woods, tied to a tree, which takes pictures of animals as they walk by its motion-sensor trigger. Jake put two of them up near a water hole and a salt lick a couple of weeks ago, so this weekend we hiked in and checked the pictures.

This bull came in for some salt the morning after he put his camera in the tree. If you look close you can see another bull behind him.


A little buck deer stopped by a few days later. He's a 2x4, though the picture doesn't show his back left fork.


In one picture we counted 12 different cows and calves.


Trail cameras are also equipped with a flash so animals coming in after dark, like this little buck, can't escape the gaze of its ever-ready lens.


Here are a few good bulls posing for the cameras.


This bull (below) is probably the biggest from this week's catch. For those who know about scoring elk, what do you think he scores? Write me a comment and let me know.

The hardest hunt that I’ve ever been on.

I was talking the other day with a friend of mine from Nebraska about hunting Mule Deer as compared to the farm-grown Whitetail that he's used to. He said he’s heard that hunting “those” deer (Mulies) is easy. “You just drive right up to ‘em,” he said. “Anybody can do it.”

Maybe a doe in Canada with a rifle, but not where I come from. This post is for him.

A few years ago I decided I was tired of only shooting little bucks. I was ready to shoot a “trophy” at all costs, so I accepted an offer by my friend Jake to go with him up the back side of Nebo Mountain, one of the tallest in Utah at 11,928 feet. We loaded our gear in packs, strapped on our bows, and headed for the base of the mountain. On our way up the canyon we met a friend coming down whose grandfather had just shot a bull elk.

We gratefully helped him trail the bull, as well as cut and load the meat, and enjoyed the experience; however, as a result, we ended up not starting our five mile hike until midnight. And a gruesome five miles it was across the steep face of Nebo by headlamp and moonlight. At 2:30 AM we reached the only somewhat level piece of ground on which to set up a small tent, which we did, and then fell asleep.

Early that next morning we arose and began to hike again, only this time straight up hill. The blue line in this picture is the path we took. (You may have to click on the picture to see a larger version that shows the path more clearly).

At the top of the blue line we sat down and scanned the mountainside with our binoculars, looking for deer. We found one. A very large one, in fact, feeding his way toward his bedding ground (yellow line, right to left). The sight of such a big buck made my body ache less and the hill seem much less steep. He had four points on one side with deep forks and thick tines, and the other side was identical except for a three inch cheater point sticking straight out from his back tine. Including the fifth point he was around 27 inches wide. Truly a trophy for me.

We watched as he and the two smaller bucks that were with him bedded down in the rocks. I picked a route up the mountain (seen in red), made a few mental notes, and started uphill. My plan was to sneak around and up over the rocks; hopefully getting a shot from above.

After three hours of hiking uphill at just under 12,000 feet, gasping for breath all the while, I finally reached a spot above the bucks. Here’s another angle:


I slowly crept down the steep rocky mountain face until I could just see his antlers from my crouched position. I wanted to get another ten yards closer, then I’d stand up straight, draw my bow, and shoot him from 30 yards away. Or so I planned. I patiently began the slowest ten yards of my life, knowing that if I kicked a rock down all my hours and energy would be wasted. After only five yards I felt a breeze at my back. It was now or never. I knew that in a matter of seconds the deer would smell my sweat soaked body and be gone. I stood up, drew my bow, and took aim.

Because the slope was so steep I had to allow the bottom limb of my bow to go between my legs. I knew that shooting at such a vertical angle would severely affect my yardage pins, but I had no time to think it through because my odor entered his nose and he stood up. Figuring I had only a second or two before he would run, I guessed and placed my 20 yard pin on his chest (he was about 35 yards) and released my arrow, which slide through the air and just over his back. All three deer bounced away and my hunt was done.

On the way back to camp I stopped on a small glacier, took my shirt off and laid in the snow which felt great in the August heat. Jake and I were both so tired that we camped one more night and hiked out the next day. While on the hike out I took this picture:

You can see how steep it was, and in the top left of the picture you can see a red X. It was at this red X a week later that I took the following picture. The green line is where we hiked with packs to our camp and you know the other colors. The black X is the spot from which I took the picture above.

Is hunting Mule Deer easy? Not if you want a trophy deer with a bow on public land. But hit or miss, it was worth it.

Running on thin slippery boards

In honor of the 100+ degree weather we've had today, I have decided to post about one aspect of the outdoors that I'd love to be doing right now. I've been cross-country skiing several times in my life and every time I do I come home feeling so invigorated, thinking to myself, "I really should do that more often." We usually pick a place to ski where we have to break trail through powder; that way we are guaranteed to encounter only resident moose and beautiful views such as this:

During my most recent trip, upon reaching our destination, I made myself a Lazy-Boy out of snow, (there was definitely no shortage of it), and whipped up a cup of hot chocolate.


That night at Walmart I saw these for only $2.00 each so I bought some. (Yes they really work. All you have to do is push a button on the bottom and wait five minutes. And the hot cocoa tastes great). Unfortunately they still sit in my cupboard today because I never found the occasion to use them.


The only cross-country trip that I wish I hadn't gone on was the time I took a girl who I met one random day at Home Depot. I'm not sure if I was just date desperate and therefore oblivious when I met her, or if the girl I went out with was actually a different girl than the one I met at the store, but wow...how do I explain it. How about this: ditzy motor mouth wearing too much leopard print.

Usually I go skiing with my brother Devin, who probably loves it as much or more than I. Here he is praying to the weather gods that they might warm it up a little. I think they answered his prayer in excess, just six months too late.

Spring Birds

Every year during spring I become a little bird nerd. I can’t help it but I start noticing every bird around me and I always keep an eye out for rare species. This spring I had just bought a new video camera, and always kept it nearby, so I ended up with a lot of photos of the little feathered perchers. I’m in the mood to post so here are a few photos:

While I was fishing the Henry’s Fork Salmon Fly hatch this year a Yellow-rumped Warbler hopped up on a rock near me.


This male Ruby-crowned Kinglet hung around for a while near the golf course where I take my dog for walks. They’re pretty small and very shy, so I was lucky to get this photo; especially because of the little bit of red showing on his crown. Only the males have it and rarely show it except during breeding season.


Here's an American Goldfinch:


And a Lazuli Bunting:


And three birds that I had never seen until this year. A White-crowned Sparrow, a black-capped Wilson's Warbler, and a rare Green-tailed Towhee:



This spring we had a pair of Killdeer nest near our house.


When you get near their nest, (which is on the ground amongst pebbles and dirt), or near their flightless chicks, they act like they're hurt in an attempt to lure you away. Rudy fell for it and ran after the male, which he didn't catch. I, on the other hand, am smarter than the dog (thankfully) so I stayed put and scanned the ground near me, which revealed it's camouflaged secret:


We watched these eggs till they hatched into two cute little chicks. They ran around on the grass for a few days until they got eaten by a hawk.

And finally...an American Robin. Not very rare, I know. But I just like this picture.