Only those become weary of

angling that bring nothing to it

but the idea of catching fish.

-Rafael Sabatini

The creeks are roaring but productive. The walk outs to some of my favorite spots are full of springtime with its drumming grouse wings and blankets of new growth underfoot. Trillium, paintbrush, and hyacinth line my chicken scratch trail as I climb boulders and avoid the recent snow melt iciness of the roaring creek, passing my late summer holes in search of waters that aren’t entirely blown out. A pool that exists only for a short time each year appears up ahead of me, and I find a nice seat on an uprooted redcedar to plop down on and rig up my rod, which today is my Moonlit 6’8” fiberglass rod and an old click and pawl lined with a 3 weight floating line: one of the best rods I own (and I do have more than a few) for the tight North Idaho streams that I enjoy fishing most. I add on a sixteen inch section of 7x tippet to the end of my leader and I take my time to watch for anything that is flying in the air. The smart fisherman would sink a small nymph, possibly a midge or a pheasant tail, into this pool but I am not a smart fisherman. I crave the topwater action too much, and I thrive on the romantic feeling that is fooling a trout with a dry fly. So, of course, I tie on my tried and true creek fly–a #16 gray Adams. I should go smaller this time of year, but like I said, I am not a smart fisherman; I am an arrogant one. But with a confidence fly at the end of my line and a patch of slower moving water, I know soon that I will be feeling that tug of fervid elation.

And I did. I slid my barbless hook effortlessly out of the seven inch adolescent cutthroat trout's lip and admired it from my net. No matter how many of these beauties I catch each year, a new story is told by each and every one. No markings are the same, no fight is the same: each has an individual life and I make sure to thank each and every one of them before I let them go. From the orange coloring under its jaw that gives the cutthroat trout its name to the controlled chaos of its spotting from nose to tail among the greens and browns, whites and golds, the cutthroat is one of most gorgeous fish that one can find at the end of their line. With a flick of its tail, the fish makes its way back to the water and I take time to reflect on how lucky I am to live in such a place as this.

While we live in a time that our rich public lands are being threatened like never before, I always give appreciation and admiration for the ones in our state and local government who will stand up to the larger powers-that-be in our Federal government who want to sell our land–the likes of which I am sitting on right now or maybe even in your backyard–to the highest bidder. Don’t take this as me starting to become more political, but this is not a left or right on the political spectrum issue: this is an Idahoan issue. This is a Montanian issue. This is an Oregonian and Washingtonian issue. This is an issue that the whole country should be up in arms about.

While here in North Idaho we may not be as in direct risk as the rest of the state, that does not mean that our lands won’t be next on the chopping block. I fish for many reasons, one of the most important being solitude. It is a time for reflection on the nature around me and reflection on myself as well. And yes, while it is esoteric and there is a bit of snobbery on my part (I do have my affinity for classic tackle), I enjoy that I have so many areas in this county to myself. More than half of my fishing spots up here I have not seen another sign of humanity–no garbage, no beer cans (except the ones that I bring in and pack out when they are a bit lighter), no other fishermen stomping through the creeks I fish alone. I stand in the water and everything washes away downstream, and I do not want to lose the rivers and streams that know me better than I know myself.

Another tug on the line and I set the hook. I can tell this one is a bit smaller, but that is something that I appreciate when fishing a light fiberglass rod like this one in the small creeks. I know that I will be catching smaller fish, and I can set a bit harder as the rod has more flex to it. Not only does this make it less of a chance that I yoink my fly right out of the fish's mouth with a quick set but it also tends to be gentler. In layman’s terms, if I was to set the hook like this on a small fish with my flex tip graphite Orvis rod, the little five inch cutthroat I just pulled in would be hitting the large cedar tree behind me. But the fish stays in the water until it lands in my net. I wet my hand and raise the fish up to admire it: another handsome native cutthroat with its alluring dark spotting across its lateral line and orange slash under the lower jaw. I let the trout go and I watch as it beelines right back in the direction where I initially caught it. Another under the belt, and I decide to let this hole rest for a bit as I make my way farther upstream.

The most important thing to remember when fishing these small streams is that the fish that reside in these waters are extremely spooky, especially during the late summer, and will find the closest cover after any hint of danger. This could be a twig snapping, a piece of gravel falling into the water, or your legs crashing through the nearby vegetation. When you fish streams such as this, it is best to stay low and use any cover that you can when approaching the waters. While these fish can be easy to catch since creek trout are hungry for just about everything, it doesn’t mean that it is not technical fishing in the slightest. Hatches will occur and send the trout on a feeding frenzy in the creeks here, but that does not mean they are picky in any sense, unlike a lot of river-based trout. If you see a hatch happening, let it be mayflies or caddisflies or whatnot, any dry fly that is relatively close to the size of what is flying around will work. And I can’t stress it enough: the Adams fly works wonders up here in these scenarios.

And it did here. Another fish on the line, the smallest of the day at just over four inches, and I bring it to my net. The smallest fish, but boy did it have the biggest markings. Many eye-catching cutthroat were caught today, and this one had to be my favorite.

As Arnold Gingrich wrote, “a trout is a moment of beauty only to those that seek it.” I could rewrite this with numerous other words replacing trout as well: creek, nature, forest, lake. I hope we can keep our minds in the right place and keep our public lands public. With senators Crapo and Risch, who recently voted against an amendment to prevent the selling of public lands in order to support the selling of said public land to help provide large tax breaks for billionaires and corporations, representative Mike Simpson broke from tradition to support the Public Lands for Public Hands bill (H.R. 718) and I couldn’t be happier. If we (the outdoors folks, the fishers, the hunters, hikers, bikers, foragers, etc) don’t fight to keep our public lands and end up losing them to the highest bidders, we are losing them for good. I thought what we were all about around here was keeping Idaho, well, Idaho. If we start losing our lands to the ones with more disposable incomes than us, we are losing them forever. Write letters to your representatives, or give them a call. If you get a typical canned response or a busy phone, write another and call them again. We must make our voices heard if we want to save our public lands. For you, for me, for our families, our children, and our children’s children.

Tight lines out there, friends.

And if you want to give a nice call to one of our representatives that seemingly are against keeping public lands public and keeping Idaho Idaho, here are some of their numbers:

Call Sen. Crapo (208-334-1776)

Call Sen. Risch (208-342-7985)

Tell them that the outdoors are ours to enjoy. If you really love all the things that make this state so beautiful, so wonderful, and one of the best areas in the country, let them know. I’m doing my part, and I hope that you will too.