Gems of the West

Steve Foisie

I’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 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 unique hexagon shape. Fabrication consumed more than 60 hours of mindfulness, perseverance and precision before it came to rest in my hands as a fly rod. Dubbed “The Colorado River,” it is one of 12 unique rods, each made to represent one of the 12 remaining subspecies of cutthroat trout. The goal of the Cutthroat Odyssey is to seek out our precious cutthroat gems of the American West, explore and appreciate their native habitats, document their presence, and to encourage others, through similar personal efforts, to help preserve the habitat of these endangered fish.

I confess that I feel there is something romantic about bamboo which fiberglass or graphite cannot replicate. Maybe it’s the organic nature of the material, or perhaps it’s the hours of precision craftsmanship dedicated to produce such a fine element of art. Regardless, nothing can compare to the thrill of catching a trout on a fly you tied on a rod you constructed. Maybe John Gierach, in his book Casting Bamboo, said it best: “…if casting graphite is like typing an invoice on a word processor, casting bamboo is like writing a letter to a friend with a fountain pen.”

Norm notes my hesitancy and my sloppy casting as I stand mid-stream to ponder. I’m nervous, having waited two years for this opportunity. Tactfully, he gently offers a few suggestions to improve my casting in close quarters. I take a few deep breaths to relax. It’s then that I recall an enlightened comment by Master Casting Instructor Mary Ann Dozer, who said “I fish bamboo to slow down.” It is a Zen moment.

Recalibrated, I shoot out a second cast and soon a beautiful, adolescent Colorado River Cutthroat comes to hand. I remove the hook gently, take a quick photo and release it. The thrill of seeing firsthand such a rare specimen in this pristine setting leaves a mark on me.

We continue fishing upstream for another hour, catching and releasing a number of these stunningly-beautiful fish, savoring the ethereal environment before finally making our way back to the car. On the way back, we casually talk about the importance of relationships and how far they subtly extend into our lives. I would have never discovered this sanctuary if it had not been for Norm’s generous offer to guide me here and Norm may have never returned to it, had an amateur rod maker and fly fisher not been intrigued to discover a rare cutthroat subspecies. We muse that this beautiful fish would likely not exist today had it not been for the forward-thinking folk who constructed barrier dams far downstream to prevent non-native, invasive trout species from entering this precious cutthroat cathedral.

We continue our hike uphill in silence. Trekking at nearly 9,000 feet altitude, we preserve our breath to ascend back to the car.

The Colorado River bamboo fly rod is now “retired,” donated to a conservation group which helps protect the environment of our cutthroat trout subspecies. Five other rods have subsequently been retired, having also caught their respective subspecies. The Snake River Fine-Spotted has been donated to FFI for a future auction event. The Yellowstone, the Whitehorse Basin, the Westslope, and the Coastal Cutthroat bamboo fly rods will find their way to other, similarly-devoted organizations.

It is my hope that in 2022, the six remaining bamboo fly rods made specifically for this odyssey—the Bonneville, the Green Back, the Humboldt, the Rio Grande, the Lahontan, and the Paiute—will have an opportunity to witness firsthand the rarified environment of their namesake cutthroat. Please join me, whether you’re packing a fiberglass, a graphite or a cane rod, to explore and in turn, help protect these remaining vestiges of our rare Western Gems.

Cuttcatch Project

The Cuttcatch Project is part of an effort by FFI to express the value of species diversity in fisheries. The project is designed to help flyfishers appreciate diversity of native species in general and, in this particular case, value the many subspecies of cutthroat trout. To aid in their recovery, the Cuttcatch Project encourages anglers to collect memories of the different species of cutthroat caught and released. Those FFI members who successfully catch four or more of the 12 subspecies will receive recognition of their accomplishment. Congratulations to the following award recipients:

Laurie Banks | Sacramento, CA First award on 6/1/21 Second award on 9/21/21

Steve Foisie | Redmond, WA 1st award on 8/4/21

Ben Roussel | Baton Rouge, LA 1st award on 11/17/21

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.