Gems of the West
I
Steve Foisie towns, and how the landscape has changed from recent forest fires. In a moment, he pauses mid-stride and looks up with a smile. “Listen. Can you hear that?” In the distance is the distinctive, soft, sweet sound of a mountain stream. It’s been a few years since Norm has had the opportunity to visit the North Fork of the Little Snake River, a tributary of the Yampa, the Green, and eventually, the Colorado River. His elation is evident as he leads the way, traversing a lush green meadow. Approximately 100 yards later we enter a cathedral of old growth conifers and aspen: the sanctuary of the Colorado Cutthroat. The air is cool and crisp, heady—almost soporific— with a luscious earthy bouquet. The stream is stained a light tea color from root tannin but it runs clear, pristine and untouched at an ideal 58 degrees. The rod I carry with me for this adventure is a modified version of one developed by master rod maker, Lyle Dickerson. The 7613 taper is a 7’6”, relatively fast-action, two-piece bamboo rod which casts a 5-weight line elegantly. My rod was conceived more than two years earlier for this specific trout and was born from a 12-foot culm of bamboo, carefully split into fine segments and handplaned into precise, tapered splines. In turn, these splines were glued into rod segments which now comprise its Photo Jessica Haydahl Richardson
’ve been traveling for more than an hour up a dusty, washboard forest service road, dodging logging trucks fully-laden with the casualties of mountain pine beetle. Next to me is Norm Crisp: author, guide and retired EPA water scientist and fisheries biologist. Norm has documented the catch and release of nearly three dozen salmonid species and subspecies and where we are headed is one of his favorite preserves. Our route takes us deep into the Sierra Madre range of southern Wyoming where Norm has graciously offered to escort me to a sacred sanctuary. Here the Colorado Cutthroat continue to swim in their indigenous waters, free of threats from invasive predation— piscine and human alike. We cross the Continental Divide with little fanfare and descend into the valleys where the rivers flow to the Pacific. Our present location is but a stone’s throw from the Colorado State line, yet we’re miles from any significant infrastructure or settlement. With a subtle signal from Norm’s finger, I pull over to a nondescript widening in the road and park the car. We proceed to set up our fly rods. Far below our vantage point is a verdant blade of green which traces its way south into the horizon, toward our destination. The hike is steep and the air is desiccating—I am grateful that I brought extra water. As we descend the trail into the valley, Norm talks about the hydrology of the area, how the water below is siphoned off for farms and
Steve Foisie Steve, past President of the Overlake Fly Fishing Club (FFI 1K), donates his handmade bamboo rods and bentwood landing nets to conservation organizations and charities. He credits Patrick Trotter, PhD scientist and author (Cutthroat: Native Trout of the West) for inspiring this odyssey. He and his wife live near Fall City, WA.
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FlyFisher Winter 2022
