I have heard from so many people that the Moyie used to be better for fishing. I catch myself saying it when shooting the breeze about trout fishing to someone at the bookstore or at the bar top even though I don't really remember when that was in my thirty five years. Heck, there is a guy who pops into the store sometimes to talk to me about fishing on the Moyie (while also occasionally trickling in a new spot or two to check out, each one ‘sketchier to get to’ than the last) who says that the Moyie used to be a blue ribbon river. Now, I don't know about that. Maybe it is what you could call a Pabst Blue Ribbon river: by myth, it won the award for “America’s Best” in the past–hypothetically at the 1893 World's Colombian Exposition for the PBR–but in reality no one really knows if that is the truth or not. All we know is that they are both cheap, fun, will give you a slight buzz if you really try, and are made mostly of water.

I may take the occasional jab at fly fishing here in the tiptop of the panhandle, but to be honest, we are rather lucky to live where we do. You got beautiful rainbows in the rivers up here, some of the best small stream cutthroat fishing around, warm water species that inhabit our lakes, and we have numerous alpine lakes high up in the Selkirks that provide some great and memorable fly fishing for the typical trout species or the oil-slick finned Arctic Grayling. Yet, the Moyie is a strange river. From the initial look at the methods of the river and how it winds, leaving great bends that look extremely fishy and provides riffles that appear to be prime for a whole day of laying a fly on top or outside of, the fact is that the fishing just isn’t great. Let me explain.

One can have a great day of trout fishing on the Moyie. In fact, I have had quite a few thus far this year. But a great day of trout fishing on the Moyie, to me, is landing one or two fish in the net. Compare this to one of the Panhandle’s true blue ribbon trout streams, the North Fork of the Coeur d’Alene and the St. Joe, one or two fish in the fishing trip would be kind of a disappointment. I must reiterate though that these are two very different types of rivers, each with their nuances–mainly being the quantity of fish per square foot of the river. Also, before anyone slams their keyboard about the amount of fish they dredged from the bottom of the pool under Eileen Dam the other day on their spinning rod, I am specifically talking about fly fishing here.

I do believe, however, that the Moyie River is truly a good river to fish at, but for more reasons than the serotonin dump that is feeling a trout pull on the fly rod after that satisfying tug of a good set. It is a technical river. For any experienced fly fisher reading this, do not laugh about that. The trout in the main run of the river are spooky, picky, and fickle. For the most part, when you land a cutthroat in the Coeur d’Alene, you can cast back out to that run again and probably pick up another one. On the Moyie, you miss a strike from a trout, he is gone and has told everyone else about you being there, and how much of a lousy fisherman you are.

I have gone to a few spots on the Moyie over the past week or two, and have been having a really great time. It is just about the peak time for fly fishing on the river, and there have been numerous hatches at my favorite spots that I have encountered. Mid afternoon and evening have brought some decent small blue winged olive hatches (a small #16-18 BWO pattern with an olive thread body have been a killer so far this summer), stoneflies have been cracking under the surface nearly each morning, and I have even seen a few salmon flies floating around. Also, the fish are hungry. Each time I have watched and read the water for the past week, I have seen the trout or two leaping two or three feet into the air to snag a fly out of the air which is one of my favorite things to see.

The Moyie River is a tributary to the Kootenai, meaning in the most basic terms that it is a smaller stream or river running into and feeding a larger body of water. And the two rivers could not be more different. While the Kootenai River running through Bonners Ferry was once called the “Nile of the North” and is a deep and slow flowing wide river as it makes its way to empty into the Columbia river, the Moyie is a freestone river knowing for quick and shallow waters, apt for fly fishing but not providing an experience that would draw in fishermen from all parts of the country, and world, as the blue ribbon rivers south of us do. Let me tell you all that this is a good thing.

A good friend of mine, Mark Chrisman–who was also my next door neighbor growing up, and his father was the first person to put a fly rod in my hand– is in the Army and just did a nine month stint in South Korea. He had a talk over there with a higher ranking officer about hometowns and home states. When he mentioned that he was from North Idaho, the officer just replied, “cruddy fly fishing up there.” I have mentioned it numerous times in my column up to this point, and I will probably continue to. While it is true in my eyes, compared to nearly any other region I have gone to fish, I will also make the proposition that this is indeed a good thing for us. We love our tourists up here, but the fewer fly fishing tourists (at least in our wet-wadeable rivers and streams) is a blessing. Over the past few decades, I have seen an improvement in the health of the river (albeit with a large amount of shore garbage as mentioned in last week's piece, Trash Leaves Trash 2) and an improvement to the amount of fish I catch and/or see coming to the surface to feed. The river is healing after what I believe to be a large time period when the river was over-fished and the fish population dwindling. We must keep it this way.

I know that I cannot convince most of the people of this town into catch and release, nor could I convince them into fishing only barbless hooks, but I also feel that there are more and more people, especially fly fishers, that are actively practicing the ethical side to the sport and that has provided the river to grow into such a better body of water to do what we love. If there was a group pushing for the river to be catch and release and barbless hooks only (especially from the Eileen Dam north), I would honestly be first in line to donate to and promote the cause. It won’t happen, not in my lifetime, but in the meantime if you are one who really wants a good meal of trout, wouldn’t you rather the fish you catch and bring home to be 16” or more rather than taking home a couple of 10-12” trout that could have grown, spawned, and become more than just a few bites?

Last Wednesday, I was fishing one of my regular honey holes in the river (a honey hole in the Moyie to me over the years has meant that I have brought in at least one trout to the net) and I could not have asked for a better day on the Moyie. I brought in a good five rainbows, anywhere from 7-10”, and missed strikes on another half dozen (I was that lousy fisherman that I mentioned before) all on a single #16 BWO pattern on a new-to-me Orvis superfine seven eleven 4 weight and a neat little “Vintage Series” reel I received from Moonlit Fly Fishing. As I had to run in for a half day of work–thank you Bret for the morning off–I took apart my rig and squeezed out another five minutes of time at the riverside to finish my coffee. The river there is packed with fishy areas–two quick runs of currents with juicy seams on each side where little sips go on every minute or so, a far bank that is undercut and most likely homing a trophy or two (darn me for forgetting my wading shoes), and a slow flat smack dab in the middle where there could be fish, but most likely not. As I let this thought exit my head, a large trout leapt three feet out of the water right in that slow flat to snag a fly right out of the air not twenty five feet from me, and I swear the thing winked at me. I look at my now-full rod tube and sigh. I’ll be back for him, and he better be ready.

Tight lines out there, friends.