And the deep bacountry/High Country has kicked off. Spent 5 days out in the deep backcountry hitting 7 lakes, 6 of which were new to me. Of the 7, 2 ended up being barren despite checking every box on paper—large enough, deep enough, and holding both inlets and outlets. One of those two barren basins is even a named lake that I thought was a sure shot. On the flip side, 3 out of 4 unnamed lakes had fish in them, with one being an absolute surprise—almost surely an example of an aerial stocking pilot going rogue decades ago.
It was a long, grueling 9-hour day just getting back in there to establish a basecamp at a larger lake. From that hub, we hit the surrounding shelves, which involved some sketchy mountaineering and massive days covering miles well above treeline. The wind was constant, and the sun was relentless.
Conditions ranged across the entire spectrum. Fishing the larger basecamp lake was not easy as it holds a low-to-moderate population that wasn't inspired to expend much energy for food (I had fished this lake previously in August and found it similarly challenging). Conversely, the unnamed action-lakes provided aggressive strikes on every single cast until we actually got bored of catching them. In those lakes, we just ran an assembly line: one person cast and caught while the other unhooked and pulled flies, landing a fish roughly every 45 seconds. For the basins that appeared barren, I still spent at least a solid hour dredging Woolly Buggers, leeches, zebra midges, and scuds just to be entirely certain.
Two interesting details to note:
- We took a cross-country route on the way out which threw some brutal elevation loss and gain at us, but I wanted to explore a particular shelf for bighorn sheep. Along the way, we came across an isolated alpine pond at 13,000 feet with no inlet or outlet. It was entirely covered up with elk sign from them wading in to cool off, and the water was absolutely crawling with Tiger Salamanders—looking like tiny, ancient catfish with legs.
- We kept hearing a helicopter in the drainage, and then suddenly, the Search & Rescue chopper was hovering right over us, the pilot looking straight down. I debated signaling, but knowing how easily standard hand gestures can be misinterpreted as distress signs, we decided to just stand still and watch. He eventually concluded we were fine and resumed his grid search.
Ultimately, this trip solidified one major conclusion: a lack of fishing pressure does not equal easy fishing. One of these unnamed lakes sat in a heavily guarded, out-of-the-way location with zero logical access—completely invisible unless you are standing directly on top of a neighboring 13k summit. It showed absolutely zero sign of historic human activity: no old fire rings, no rocks left in the shape of a tent, no tangled line in the willows, no rusted out steel cans. I’d wager we were the first humans to put a line in that water in years, maybe decades. Yet, those fish were still intensely selective and temperamental.
Pics to follow.
