Last week I packed up the Subaru with assorted camping gear, 3 fly rods, waders, and a mess of flies and pointed my car towards Idaho. I had never fished in Idaho but from everything I had read it seemed a promising destination. Full of a variety of water types ranging from lakes to freestone rivers as well as tailwaters it truly is a destination that flies under the radar given its proximity to Montana.
A good 7 hour drive from Seattle I arrived at the banks of the St Joe River in the panhandle a few hours from Coeur d'Alene. The fifty miles along the river road from St Maries to Avery was incredibly scenic as the road hugged the river while it twisted through the valley bottom. By western WA standards I found the river and campgrounds relatively empty and I quickly had my camp set up so I could get onto the water as soon as possible.
With warm air temps and a low flow it was the perfect chance to wet wade and stay cool as I plied pools, runs and riffles looking for westslope cutthroat, a type of trout I had never caught. It didn't take long to spot fish holding in the gin clear water of a deep pool. I had read that as the season progressed these fish would often school up in anticipation of migrating downstream into Lake Coeur d'Alene.
Despite what some people say about the cutthroat trout being a gullible fish willing to wack at any fly pitched before them, I found they were rather selective and unwilling to take a poorly drifted fly. This made for challenging but clearly more interesting angling.
Over those few days I caught lots of beautiful cutts, drank in the delicious smell of the douglas firs that clung to the steep walls of the river valley and ate my lunch watching the river flow by while I sat in the cool shade. At night I would eat by campfire light, wolfing down sausages I had skewered onto a stick and stuck over the coals, all while drinking wine and meditating on life. Overhead the stars lit up the inky black sky free of light pollution.
Having remote, raw, wild places like the St Joe is like medicine for us all in this day of 24/7 technological bombardment. No cell reception or Wifi means that your brain can "breathe." And, the simple act of casting a fly rod and focusing on fooling my quarry creates a zen like haze into which I slip easily. Time passes quickly and it seems like all to soon I am breaking camp and winding my way back toward Spokane and onto Rt 90.
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