Salmon River Fly Fishing Articles
Fall fly fishing extravaganza on Idaho's Middle Fork of
the Salmon River
Less than 20 minutes from the Boise, Idaho Airport, I'm brimming
with excitement as the cushy Caravan plane floats over a series
of velvety green meadows bordered by high rocky peaks in Bear
Valley, Idaho. We're headed into the heart of central Idaho's
wilderness for a six-day fly fishing trip on the famed Middle
Fork of the Salmon River.
"We're flying over the headwaters of the Middle Fork right now,"
says Dan Schroeder the pilot and owner, of Salmon Air, who seems
to know the name of every point of interest along our route.
"Look at those elk over there next to the trees. If we're lucky,
maybe we'll see a wolf." It's an early September bluebird day,
and the flight is so smooth in the early-morning hours, it feels
like a magic carpet ride. The pilot flies down the barrel of
the Middle Fork canyon, into the heart of the 2.3-million-acre
Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness. We can see the turquoise
clear Middle Fork lazily meandering through the deep, V-shaped
canyon. I'm looking for fish in the deep pools.
Before we know it, the pilot touches down at Thomas Creek
airstrip, a grassy landing pad where we joined Solitude's guides
for our fishing trip. There's only eight guests, and Solitude
puts us two to a boat, leaving plenty of elbow room for fly
fishing. An extra supply boat carries all of our gear to our
campsite, downriver.
All of us have our fishing rods in hand as we load the Maravia
Williwaw rafts. They're rigged especially for fishing, with
padded seats and platforms in the bow and stern. We're ready
to start catching the beautiful red-and-green native cutthroat
in the Middle Fork. The guides recommend that we fish with a
variety of hoppers, the cuts' favorite late-season diet on clear
and warm days. Not more than a few minutes go by before I see
a nice trout rise up to nail my fly. It wasn't a subtle take,
either - the fella rose up and devoured the hopper. As I brought
him in close to the boat, he looked just gorgeous - a 14-inch
classic Middle Fork cut, whose blend of black-speckled green
and crimson red mirrored the color scheme of the rocks and the
river. Welcome to the Middle Fork, my friend.
After several hours of great fishing we reach camp- most of
us were catching fish continuously, and giggling at our good
fortune - I had to sit back and marvel at the beauty of the
river canyon. I munched on a snack, sipped a cold drink, and
stared at the steep canyon walls. The colors are truly phenomenal
at this time of year - shrubs on the river bank are bright yellow,
deep orange and ruby red. Vegetation on the steep mountains
rising above the river is so colorful it resembles a giant tapestry
with nearly every shade of the rainbow represented.
When a new scene emerges around the next bend in the river,
I can't believe how magnificent it is. I realize I can't concentrate
on fishing too much or I'll miss something spectacular. Like
when we came around the bend past Hospital Bar campsite, we
saw 12 bighorn sheep grazing in the grass. Plus, I couldn't
believe how quiet it is. Here we've been on the river for hours
and we haven't seen any other boating parties or people since
we left Thomas Creek. We had our own private Idaho, a trout-fishing
fishing paradise, all to ourselves for six days of unfettered
bliss.
At another camp called Loon Creek, we pulled ashore for the
night. Some of us headed for the hot springs one-quarter of
a mile up the trail, and others walked farther upstream to fish
some more. Our guides told us the tributary had some of the
biggest fish in the whole Middle Fork drainage. Now there's
some incentive!
For dinner, we enjoyed a hearty dinner of New York steaks, Idaho
potatoes, fine wine and great conversation. I could tell this
was going to be a memorable trip to be sure. Al and his guides
told us Middle Fork stories all night long.
That night, I saw more stars than I've seen in years in the
misty skies of Minnesota. Sleeping outside in my tent, I heard
a couple coyotes yipping and howling before I slipped into a
deep sleep. Cool nights. Warm days. Non-stop action on the water.
Deer wandering into camp. Blue grouse chortling around in the
tall grass by my tent. They're tame as house cats! With every
minute of every day, I felt my soul blend deeper into the wilderness.
All of the every-day stresses of my city life were gone now.
I was on vacation in the truest sense of the word. Why can't
I stay here forever? That's how my trip-mate Bryan Baylog felt
about our Middle Fork experience, as I overheard him tell his
father on the raft, as we drifted toward Cache Bar, our takeout.
"Dad I can't believe it's over. Thank you for a once-in-a-lifetime
experience I will never forget. The fishing was fabulous, the
beauty of the river and surrounding areas are awesome like I've
never seen and the first-class treatment by all the people of
Solitude made this a totally unforgettable time." Mike Baylog
gave his son a hug, smiling ear-to-ear, and said, "I couldn't
have said it better."
