Home Waters

Home is where the heart is. We've all heard it. By that definition, I think I have at least half a dozen homes, from Idaho Falls, to Rexburg, to Island Park, to the Canary Islands, to right here in Logan.
So, what is my "home water"?
I learned to fly fish on the Falls River, beneath an old railroad bridge. Just in that one short stretch of river, there are several types of water to fish. It's nice and wide and has a nice shallow section that kids can wade pretty easily. I have a lot of fond memories of that place. Crossing the railroad bridge that's about 50 feet above the water, on railroad ties that were spread far enough apart that me and my brothers thought we would surely fall to our death if we made one false step. Every time we went there, we would pull an old railroad spike, or some other rusted piece of metal that once held the rails on the bridge, and take it home as a souvenir. I remember one of my brothers waving his rod back and forth like he was trying to fend off a few hundred dozen birds from Alfred Hitchcock's movie.
I also spent time fishing on the South Fork of the Snake River. I remember wading through water cress and other aquatic plants that hid the bottom of the river and all the deep holes that seemed to want to swallow me whole.
I remember my brother snagging his crayfish fly in a tree on the banks of the Madison River in Yellowstone. My late grandfather was on that trip. In fact, I think he was the one that bought that crayfish in a fly shop in West Yellowstone.
Now, by the definition of "home" as being one's geographic location, my "home waters" are the Logan and the Blacksmith Fork Rivers. I've really grown to love these two rivers, especially the Blacksmith Fork. They're both pretty narrow rivers, both are really overgrown, and there's very little calm water on either, though the Blacksmith Fork is a little slower than the Logan. I've fished them so much, that when I return to the rivers I fished as a young teenager, I almost forget the tactics I have to use on bigger, wider rivers.
I've lived in Orem, and Salt Lake City, and I didn't really feel inclined to claim either as Home, or call myself a Utahan. I've lived here in Logan for just under four years now, and though I still hesitate to call myself a Utahan, Logan is one of the places I call Home, and if I ever leave, I'm sure it's a place my heart will be.

Falls River

This weekend I got to go up to Idaho and see the family, and do some fishing on the Falls River. When my dad, brothers and I all got into fly fishing, the Falls River was the first place I remember going after we'd all gotten our rods and reels, so it was good to return after having not fished that river in I don't know how many years. And it was all made better by the fact that my dad, and two of my brothers, Casey, and Riley came along as well.
On the way to the river, we drove past this burned and collapsed potato cellar, and I had to photograph it:

The stretch we always went to along the river was under an old rail road bridge. In the years we've not gone there, the bridge has been made far safer than it ever was. There are now cable hand rails, and an even deck on the ties, so there's no more danger in falling. I kind of liked the idea of risking life and limb crossing the bridge back in the day. It kept you on your toes.

After fishing the Logan River and Blacksmith Fork all year, it was a bit of a new experience fishing such a wide river again, and it really wore my arms out having to cast so far. After a few casts and a few fly changes, I finally caught a whitefish on an X Caddis. Then a little while later, after tying an Olive Serendipity to the bend of the hook of the X Caddis, I hooked into a nice Rainbow Trout. He was in the 14-ish inch range (I really need to get a tape measure), and fought like a mule. I finally landed him, and my dad got this photo:

After we'd finished fishing, we hiked back to the car, and I grabbed my camera and returned to the river to make this photograph:

Saturday, the whole gang got together at McCowin Park in Ammon for an awesome lasagna lunch, and to take some family photographs. If any of you saw pigs flying this weekend, or saw the weather report from Hell and saw it had frozen over, the reason is because I finally made "people" photographs. This is what the Duncan Clan looks like as of October 16, 2010:

Sportsman's Park