Why I Kill Trout

A while back I posted an article on my blog entitled “Cañones de Invierno”, which was a trip report from the cañones this past December.  In that article, I talked about catching, killing, and eating brown and rainbow trout.  I posted photographs of trout sizzling in a pan on top of a wood stove, and of those browns and rainbows grilling on top of some scraps of iron on a pile of glowing coals in an open fire.  While reading Facebook posts today, I found one where my partner on that December cañon trip, Eric Lynn, explained when and why he and I kill trout in the backcountry.  Eric, thank you for your explanation!  I’d like to expound upon what you wrote.

Eric Lynn with a brace of brown trout, ready for the pan.

I kill trout and eat them.  However, there are self-imposed limits to this, and more often than not, I strictly adhere to a catch-and-release ethic.  When, where, and why I kill trout is dependent on a number of factors.  I have chosen to live a disciplined life on many levels, and my tenkara is no different.

First, I never keep fish unless I’m backpacking, period.  I’m not quite sure why it bothers me to do otherwise, but there’s something about backpacking, spending one or more nights out in the boonies, and celebrating the fact that I’m totally self-sufficient, that makes catching and eating a trout or two acceptable.  Much of my wilderness backpacking is done to reconnect with my paleolithic roots, and I devote a lot of time practicing bushcraft, hunting, and fishing to hone those ancient skills so important to keeping myself safe and well-fed off the land.

Freshly caught trout and miso soup, cooking over hot coals in the backcountry.

Fellow backcountry hunter, and renowned hunting ethicist, David Petersen, wrote that fly fishing (which tenkara IS, in case you wondered) is little more than “hydraulic hunting”, a point of view shared with sporting writer, Steven Bodio, who Petersen quoted in his seminal book, Heartsblood.  In that book, Bodio talks about “the occasional killing and eating of trout as a means of reminding ourselves of the ancient visceral connection between human and fish, predator and prey…” 

This connection with ancient food procurement, buried deep in my genome, is important to me.  It’s why I hunt elk, mule deer, pronghorn antelope, dusky grouse, snowshoe hares, Merriam’s turkeys, and cottontails.  It’s also why I hunt and fish in the some of the most strenuous ways possible, backpacking and burro-packing deep into Colorado wilderness, far from any bail-out my pickup could provide.  It’s a hard life at twelve-thousand feet.

Brook trout, pine squirrel, rice, and tea.  Living off the land!

Second, the fish I kill and eat the most are brook trout, with exceptions in canyons where there are so many brown trout it could make your head spin.  The brook trout in Colorado’s streams need to be killed and eaten.  The fact that there are hundreds of miles of brook trout streams in Colorado, all filled with 7-9” fish, make it a literal buffet for the backcountry angler, since Colorado Parks and Wildlife offers liberal daily limits on squaretails.  Non-native brookies can put the hammer on native greenback cutthroats and, as nature writer Ted Williams has said (quoted by Petersen in Heartsblood) regarding the problem with brook trout in Rocky Mountain National Park, “Biologists there are trying to eliminate non–native brook trout to aid the comeback of threatened native greenback cutthroats.  Releasing a fish that needs to be removed from the ecosystem is worse than Zorba the Greek’s unpardonable sin of not going to a woman’s bed when called…”

A nice 12" rainbow from a tiny creek.  This one lived to swim another day.

Third, size matters.  I simply won’t kill a trophy trout, and “trophy” is subjective.  In the brook trout streams I frequent, a “trophy” fish is anything over nine inches.  The lower elevation semi-desert canyons I call home hold some amazingly big brown trout, and any fish there over a foot long lives to swim another day.  I’d rather chew cold elk jerky for supper than grill a ten-inch brook trout.  The big ones stay.

This one stayed in the canyon, as most of them do.

So, there you go.  That’s my take on “catch and munch” versus “catch and release”.  It’s a moving target, but it always boils down to letting the trout call the shots, and staying true to your ethics.  If those trout happen to be nine inch brookies, build a small fire, get out your grill or pan, and live off the land!

Trip Report: Cañones de Invierno (December 22-23, 2014)

O, wind,

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

                                                        __ Percy Bysshe Shelley

                                                           (“Prometheus Unbound")

I could tell you that winter becomes a time when I slow down a bit, spend long hours at my tying bench, and contemplate the next summer guiding season.  I could tell you that, but I won’t, mostly because I would be lying to you.  My tenkara has kept a busy pace going into winter and shows no signs of doing anything different!

Winter tenkara in the canyons is all about finding trout in the pools and big pockets where they're holed up until spring.

Since I last posted in Tenkara Tracks (I don’t post nearly as often as I’d like to), I’ve been busy!

In mid-December I gave my frequent backpacking companion, hunting partner, and surrogate younger brother, Eric Lynn, a call and threw out the idea of poking up into one of my canyons (or, more precisely, cañones) for a multi-day backpacking/tenkara trip, weather permitting.  It doesn’t take much arm twisting for Eric to jump on ideas like that with full force, and this was no exception.

Best friends in the wilderness.  Eric Lynn and I in the canyons.

Well, the weather permitted it, and on December 22^nd we stepped off into a winding crack in the mountains, punching through thin ice on the edges of the creek as we made our way upstream.  It was a balmy 45 degrees.  There was no snow at all in the canyon, and we enjoyed lots of open water.  On the way to our camp, five miles distant, we encountered 24 bighorn sheep on the wall across the canyon, and about half of them were rams.  We saw one very nice ¾ curl ram that was frequently coughing…not a good sign for bighorn sheep, given their propensity for respiratory disease.  Eric and I both said a silent prayer for that fine ram, and wished him healing.

Making my way upstream, passing by a newly-created beaver dam, frozen over.

Watching a band of bighorn sheep on the canyon wall. 

We chose a campsite that Patrick Smith and I had used many times in the past.  Once we started nailing down camp, I discovered that I had left all of my tent pegs back at home.  While I carved fourteen pegs out of seasoned juniper, Eric took care of the rest of the chores.  This is a perfect example of the usefulnessof a good tomahawk, and I always carry one in my pack.  The wind blew in snow flurries and graupel throughout the afternoon and into the evening, but that didn’t keep us from fishing and bringing two rainbows and two browns back to camp for supper.  The trout in this canyon this late in the year will only fall to a Killer Bug, placed right in front of them.  They will not move much at all to take a fly.  Takes are so very soft and slow, and we frequently could not tell we had a take until a lift of the rod told the whole story.  Mist blue, oyster, nymph…the color of the Killer Bugs didn’t seem to matter nearly as much as the placement and presentation.  Accuracy was key.

Replacing forgotten aluminum tent pegs with sturdy, field-expedient ones crafted from juniper.

A nice 12" rainbow, caught on a mist blue #14 Killer Bug.

This is why we come!

Grilling trout over an open fire, using some pieces of old barrel hoops we found at a homestead ruin.

Our secret weapon…the famous Killer Bug!

That night we warmed ourselves beside our ultralight takedown Kifaru wood stove, cooking up a special meal that included dehydrated chunks of backstrap from the cow elk I had killed a month prior, paired with our four trout.  Good living!

A backcountry palace for two…my Kifaru Sawtooth.

Breaking in Eric's new fish pan with our supper.  

The next morning we listened to the ice cracking and popping as the sun warmed the canyon.  The rushing water and cracking ice…sounds you can only hear in a canyon like this in the winter.  There will be no one else here, and there will be no tracks on the trail, other than those of the bighorns, mule deer, and an occasional coyote.  This canyon is a winter home for Eric and I, and it was good to visit it this late in the year.

Eric negotiating the crux move, heading back downstream along the canyon wall.

    

Thinking About Winter

"There are three reasons for becoming a writer:  first is that you need the money; second that you have something to say that you think the world should know; the third is that you can't think what to do with the long winter evenings."  --Quentin Crisp

Mid-November snow in the backyard.

It's nearly mid-November.  Dusk came at around 5:00 PM this evening, it's 2 degrees above zero, the windchill is at minus 13, and it's snowing.  It's hard not to think about winter.

Contrary to what Quentin Crisp had to say about winter, I can think of plenty to do with the long winter evenings!

First, my vise has been neglected to the point that I recently found myself scrounging around in the only little fly box I take in my chest pack, searching for the one fly that always produces in my canyons…a Killer Kebari.  So, one thing I can think of doing on long winter evenings is refilling my go-to backcountry fly box.  I started last night, tying up some bodies for future Killer Kebari finished patterns.

An unfinished Killer Kebari pattern…an ongoing project for months to come.

Secondly, I think about what Crisp said about having "something to say that you think the world should know".  Winter nights are for writing.  They come early, giving me ample time to pound on the keyboard, think, research, and revise, revise, revise.  As Dave Peterson says about revision…it's "where the real writing begins…and ends".  There's plenty of time to do that when the mercury drops with the sun and hours go long into the night.  Winter is a time to catch up on all the writing that summer guiding didn't allow.

Ground zero…The Desk

Lastly, winter is a time to recharge my tenkara batteries, doing so through events like the Fly Fishing Show in Denver each early January, and the newly-created Tenkara Winter Series by my friends at Zen Fly Fishing.  Zen co-owners Adam Omernick and Karin Miller were tenkara clients of mine through RIGS Fly Shop this past summer.  I guided them on a backcountry headwater and the downstream wild tailwater on the same small river.  We slammed rainbows all day long with tenkara, and a lasting friendship was formed in the process.  Adam and Karin are good people.

Join me for the Tenkara Winter Series!

I was honored that Adam and Karin asked me to provide a presentation at the inaugural January installment of the Tenkara Winter Series!  I'm completely humbled to be in the company of well-known journalist, editor, and author, Kirk Deeter, and Tenkara Bum owner and tenkara guru, Chris Stewart, as presenters.  Each of the three months of the Tenkara Winter Series, Zen has paired up a tenkara presentation with the work of an accomplished artist.  I'm looking forward to presenting on the evening of January 24th with my friend and tenkara photographer extraordinaire, Kevin Fricke.  Other artist/photographers in the series are another good friend, and Three Rivers Tenkara owner, Anthony Naples, and widely-renowned fly angler Mark Boname.

I hope winter treats you well.  I also hope that those "long winter evenings" involve a fly vise, some introspection, and your attendance at events like the Tenkara Winter Series.  Stay warm, my friends.  

Trip Report: Rocky Mountain National Park (October 12-14, 2014)

Our family recently took our annual fall trip to Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park.  This is one of the most peaceful, relaxing trips we take as a family.  Mary and I have been visiting Rocky Mountain National Park since the mid-90s, even before we were married.  My favorite trip with her was in the winter of 1995, when we snowshoed up Longs Peak Trail to Jim’s Grove and beyond.  There Mary saw her first Colorado ptarmigan.

We've been coming here a long time together!  Mary and I, winter 1995.

These days, with three of our own children (and usually one of their friends) and our pup, Koda, we like to stay at the YMCA of the Rockies- Estes ParkCenter.  There are lots of family and faith-based activities for the kids, the cabins we rent are cozy and extremely well-kept, and you can just about bet you’ll have a nice 6X6 or better bull elk grazing right next to the front porch.

Our cozy family cabin at the YMCA Estes Park Center.

My long-suffering wife, Mary, always lets me sneak away for most of one day to explore Rocky Mountain National Park.  For me, that always means I’ll head out with a tenkara rod in my hand and a full day pack on my back.  This year was no exception.

On our visit last year I fished Glacier Creek just above Sprague Lake and went upstream a ways.  I also fished the Big Thompson River in Moraine Park, catching brown trout with bull elk bugling over my shoulder.  I can think of few more beautiful places than Moraine Park in mid-October…trout and elk…two of the creatures I love most in the world.

The view of Moraine Park this fall.

With my fishing time even more limited this year, my first stop was Steve Schweitzer’s “A Fly Fishing Guide to Rocky Mountain National Park”.  This extremely useful and very well laid out guide provided me with several options for a partial day of tenkara that was easy to access from our YMCA cabin.

 

Monday, October 13^th dawned clear and cold at the cabin, with the temperature just above freezing.  Perfect!  I headed into the park, with the upper section of Glacier Creek in my sights.  My goal was to avoid the trail and streamside traffic lower on Glacier Creek, and concentrate on the section just below Mills Lake.  I wanted a stiff hike and some solitude.  I got both.

I parked at the Bear Lake trailhead, which was packed with cars and tourists.  Putting my head down and my legs into overdrive, I hit my three-mile-per-hour “power hike” pace.  Once above Alberta Falls the trail traffic thinned out, the path narrowed, and the farther up I went, the more I enjoyed my hike.  I flew right past good looking water, wanting to reach Mills Lake by lunchtime.  I ended up at Mills Lake to find it cold and windy.  I looked for trout in the pools just below the outlet, finding none.  Just below the lake there’s a wonderful ltrough of water beside a sheer little cliff, but I found no trout there either.

The view of Longs Peak from just below Mills Lake.

Prospecting my way downstream from Mills Lake didn’t produce any brookies until I had gone below Glacier Falls.  Once there, I started getting into fish, all brook trout in the 7”-9” range.  These bends and pockets kept gifting me those wonderful little brookies for an hour or so, until I had to stop, bushwhack my way back up to the trail, and fly down the trail to my truck.  It was a good day for a hike and a few hours of breathing thin, cold air and catching feisty little square tails.

Some things that worked really well on this trip were:

My Tenkara Times TRY 330 rod, sent to me by my good friend, Anthony Naples, who owns Three Rivers Tenkara.  I’ve thanked you before, Anthony, but please accept one more kudo!

Tenkara USA 3.5 level line.  The TRY 330 REALLY likes this line for most conditions.  If it had gotten any windier, I’d have switched to the same line in 4.5. 

My self-tied Killer Kebari.  I got this pattern from Chris Stewart quite a while ago, several years in fact, and it never stops producing.  I wish I knew how many Killer Kebaris I’ve tied for both my fly box and for others.

My tried-and-true full-day day pack…a Kifaru Spike Camp.  I’ve worn this pack through a number of seasons guiding tenkara trips in the backcountry, hunted elk and mule deer with it, and have taken it just about everywhere in my truck and on my back as a go-to piece of gear.  You might as well bury me with this pack on.

You might as well bury me with my boots on my feet too.  They’re Salomon Quest 4D GTX boots, and they’re damned fine footwear for the backcountry.

Thanks for reading!  I hope you have an opportunity to visit Rocky Mountain National Park in the fall.  It’s a short season of golden aspens, frosty mornings, screaming bull elk, and the last good fishing before winter arrives.

PS:  I've just received very good news!  Tenkara USA will be hosting their annual tenkara summit in Estes Park, at the YMCA, in September 2015!  Check the Tenkara USA website for upcoming details!