SLOUGH CREEK

SLOUGH CREEK’S THIRD MEADOW

Alive & Kickin’

Ijust got back from an amazing trip to Slough Creek’s Third Meadow in Yellowstone. I cheated, and joined a good friend, backcountry guide and Sunrise Pack Station owner Shane, along with my dad and son, and a new couple friend of ours, who also are fly fishing enthusiasts-- and we saddled horses and rode into the backcountry in style. It was epic!

We started the trip in Thermopolis at Two Rivers Inn for a night, and enjoyed a round of golf before turning in. Rising early, we drove through Cody to Canyon Campground for one night. We chose to do it this way as the North and Northeast entrances to Yellowstone were still closed, and since we needed to meet our guide at the trailhead at 11 AM for a full horseback ride of about 9 miles, we figured we’d like to camp close the night before, grab a nice breakfast, and take our time getting to the rendezvous point in the morning.

Trouble is, when you originally planned for two nights in Thermopolis at the Inn and three nights with an outfitter who takes care of everything—tent camping on our own was an afterthought, so you might forget a thing or two, but would you believe I FORGOT SLEEPING BAGS! That meant a pretty cold night in the canyon campground, but we did have air mats in our Kelty tents. Sorry, Pops!

It was chilly, but a warm breakfast at the Canyon Cafeteria hit the spot the next morning. Soon we were on our way to the Tower/Slough Creek turnoff, where at the time, only folks with backcountry reservations were allowed to proceed. We showed Shane’s permit proving we were booked on a pack trip along Slough Creek, and the friendly rangers waved us through. I admit, we thought the trip would be cancelled, but with this exclusive access, we felt like VIPS!

The road was still gated/closed beyond Slough, but you could turn into the Slough Campground dirt road and that’s where Slough’s lower meadow came into focus. The rain-on-snow event/runoff flood waters had left numerous, large trees strewn along its banks, high above the flows that we could see. Trees, logs, debris— you name it—it was piled along the high, freshly cut banks. The raw power it took to push those massive trees must have been a sight to see. We didn’t fish here, but there were a few guys out. There was no evidence of a fish die-off, but I imagine a few trout got left high

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and dry in the sagebrush.

We met Shane, his daughter Abbey, who would be our camp cook, and Catherine, who would handle wrangler duties. Soon we met a couple we would be enjoying the trip with, Jaime and Allison from San Antonio. Shane methodically went over all the basics, cautions, covering all the bases as we were assigned horses. The girls got our flyfishing gear, camera gear and clothing loaded into packs, and then onto the mules. We were introduced to our horses—my son Barrett was on Dandy, I was on Yeller, and my dad Dan had Curly.

Soon we were blazing the trail behind Shane as he led our packtrain, pulling four mules himself, followed by us five riders, and Abbey and Catherine with the other mule team with the rest of the food and gear. Slough Creek’s first meadow showed signs of a few trees moved around and a few freshly cut high walls, but otherwise, not much different than when I fished it August 2021.

We continued up the trail with glimpses of the river, before the trail rises into the forest, and you lose sight of the river. After a short time, we started a bit of a descent and came into sight of the second meadow. Feeder creeks along the way all showed signs of high water with debris lining their banks as they made their way to the valley floor. Sand hill cranes, a couple deer, a bald eagle, and tons of bison greeted us as we made our way to the ford spot—a new spot as the old river crossing had been deteriorating over the years and the flood event probably didn’t help.

After crossing the creek, we rode the horses along a sloping foothill as we continued towards our goal, a camp above the Third Meadow. We rode into a small, forested valley and dismounted as Shane and his team unsaddled the horses, setup the kitchen, pitched our tents and began making us feel at home in the backcountry. A steak dinner appeared out of thin air, and we decided to get to the fishing in the morning.

Day 1 Fishing started with a bang. I’ve been wanting to test some new Umpqua beetles like the Hi Vis Foam Beetle in basic black and orange, the Point Guard Beetle, but I couldn’t pass up using a few of the last remaining Chaos Hoppers I still had from previous Slough outings.

I set my dad up with a purple Chubby and aimed

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him at a deeper rifle that looked fishy. He hadn’t fly fished in 20+ years but could still throw a decent bug. Nothing! The rifle looked amazing but after he fished it, a bit later I tried and even walked through it—didn’t even spook a fish later in the day.

My son and I went about 50 yards downriver, crossed, and we targeted a root ball in the middle of the river at the head of the start of a pool. I made one cast—nothing—then another up high in front of the root ball…. nope. Then a fish came up slashing at a natural bug behind the sunken tree root, and I said, “Okay buddy… try to pass up this hopper!”

I cast to his spot about 10 feet upriver from where he fed. My Chaos Hopper drifted about six feet, and that nice Yellowstone cutty made another quick slash at my bug this time, pulling it under, and I set the hook.

He was a solid 18 to 19 inches, a very thick trout, that put up a fight, taking line off my reel. I was fishing 3X and he had me thinking at one point, “Dang, I better loosen my drag, or this guy might just break off.” Two good runs and he finally came to the net.

I admired him for a second and quickly unhooked him and sent him on his way. Next, I walked back upriver to check on my dad. That’s when my son, who had slid into my spot, hooked another nice cutty on the Hi Vis Beetle. His fish was equally as nice, but managed to get off in the shallows before I could run back down Slough in hopes of netting it for him. I don’t envy you guides out there.

The rest of the day was filled with hopper grabs mostly in deeper, slow bends. The fish were very skittish, so a stealthy approach was a necessity—very little wading. Later, I talked to Shane back at the campfire; he said he noticed that a few of the deeper pools in the Third Meadow— maybe three or four of them—had noticeably been cut off, as higher flows re-established a straight path in a few spots. We didn’t notice a reduction in fish numbers, just a few deep pools not being fed by the creek anymore. Anyone who has ever studied the lifecycle a stream or river knows that this is just part of the process of a river creating oxbows, etc.

Later we enjoyed another stellar dinner prepared by Abbey-- chicken this evening with all the fixings.

The wind had blown us off the river in the early afternoon, but knowing we would be pampered with another great meal, we were looking forward to relaxing and dining in the outdoors with friends.

Day 2 Fishing found us in a bit of a drizzle and windstorm. It was raining off and on, and it really put the kibosh on my hopper. I rigged up with a smaller dry and even tried a little dropper off the hopper in the beginning. The flows in the Third Meadow pools are so slow (early August), I could see fish come off the bottom, take my small emerger, and the hopper wouldn’t even flinch, bump, nada. A few takers got my blood pumping as hooksets turned into quick rolls to set them free.

We had to work for every bite in the heavy drizzle. We worked up the creek back towards where we came down to try our luck on some new water we hadn’t tried yet. While walking I was blindly casting a hopper in a shallow run—one of those Slough Creek spots that appear to be barren until you see movement, and that’s exactly what happened. A large cutty turned sideways in the current, chasing my go-to hopper as the rain had stopped. This guy had to be about 21 inches or more. He sipped my hopper and I struck out. I told myself, “Even if I hooked him, I was on a vertical, drop-off cutbank that was 12 to 15 feet high, nowhere to get down to fight this guy. It was 50 yards in either direction before I would have been able to access a manageable hike down. He would just be known as the one that I fanned on.

We met up with Jaime and Allison, and Shane at this time. Shane said, “Parachute Adams time, with this overcast and drizzle.” Sure enough, the smaller dry was best from then on. The couple reported a handful of fish on the dry when we met up later at camp. We fished until about 3 PM, though it was one of those evenings where the rain finally subsided, and it was time for dinner. Fishing would’ve been good to match the hatch that evening, but we were ready for dinner and Shane’s signature desserts. Our tents, air mats and sleeping bags were calling us for another good night’s sleep. The view from the front of my Kelty two-man tent was amazing. We were at least 3/4-mile from the creek, on a bluff, and surrounded by peaks that offered sightings of elk herds and mountain goats. The weather was a little off for the trip, but it was a great time with old friends, new friends, my dad and my son. I’m glad to report Slough’s Meadows are still alive and kickin’. About The Author High Country Angler contributor Brian La Rue enjoys giving fly fishers ideas of where to go for an adventure. Feel free to reach out to Brian at Brian@hcamagazine.com if you want your lodge or guide service featured in an upcoming promotional marketing plan.