Coyotes vs. Cutthroat

Meet the Coyote Brothers – our two oldest grandchildren.

Obviously, they’re not coyotes. And they’re first cousins, not brothers. We started calling them that a couple of years ago when we were antelope hunting. They’re really good buddies, and as young men are prone to do at that age, they spend a lot of time mauling one another. Kim and I were watching them one morning as we were getting ready to head down the mountain in search of an antelope. They were too excited to eat, so they were wrestling instead. She said, “They’re just like coyote pups. If they’re not eating or sleeping, they’re playing.” From that time on, they’ve been the Coyote Brothers.

Over a year ago, Coyote Brother 1 (CB1) announced at a family dinner that he wanted to catch a Cutt-Slam. He loves fishing, and he’s as patient as a heron, so that didn’t really surprise me. I was curious how he heard about the Cutt-Slam, and so I asked him about it. He told me he read about it somewhere and that it meant you had to catch all four subspecies of cutthroat trout in Wyoming, and he wanted to do it. Coyote Brother 2 (CB2) was immediately in, figuring that it had to be a good thing if CB1 and fishing were involved.

Fast forward to July 4, 2010. Our Cutt-Slam Strike Force was assembled in a beautiful camp near the Tri-Basin Divide. After much planning and discussion, the Old Guys (OG1 and OG2) had decided that this was a good spot. We could fish Labarge Creek for Colorado River cutthroats, the Greys River for Snake River cutthroats and the Smith’s Fork for Bonneville cutthroats – all with a minimum of driving. The Sons (S2 and S3) would be there to help CB1 and CB2, and maybe even do some fishing themselves.

We were on the water at 7 AM. It was tough fishing. CB1 forgot to pack his fishing shoes, so he fished in Crocs. Both CBs struggled with the willows and the wind. We saw few fish, if any. We beat the water from Labarge Meadows down to the forest boundary. S3 managed to land a small cutt, but the CBs were fishless by noon. I was shocked. I thought this would be our easiest fish. We went back to camp for lunch and some strategic planning. We decided to head over into Greys River and try to find more fish. It worked. We started seeing fish not far below the head of the Greys. S3 caught a nice cutt just below Poison Creek. But the CBs were still fishless, and beginning to get a little discouraged. We fished pocket water here and there down the river, but by 5 PM, both were tired and hungry and downcast. We tried the Little Greys River, and hit a bonanza. Within 15 minutes, they were both catching fish, and all thoughts of gloom and doom had been banished. Here’s CB1 with a nice Snake River cutt:

After eating pretty much everything the café in Alpine had available, we debated the idea of jouncing back up the Greys River Road to camp. The idea seemed unbearable, so we elected to drive all the way to the head of Star Valley and take the Smith’s Fork Road because it would involve only 24 miles of gravel road, rather than 60+ miles. On paper, it seemed like a wonderful idea. Even in practice, it seemed good. It was a lovely evening, we saw dozens of deer, a porcupine, even a moose. The view from the head of Salt River was fabulous:

But at 10 PM, with exhausted CBs and tired OGs and Ss, we hit milepost 21 out of 24. Actually, we didn’t hit the milepost – it was off the side of the road. But we did hit snow – a snowslide blocking the road. Not just a little “back up and give ‘er hell” snowslide, either. It was at least 100 yards long and up to 6 feet deep, with snapped off conifers and the whole nine yards. We were five miles from camp, but rimrocked sure as could be. Had the CBS not been so tired, I would have walked them back. But as it was, we had to go back out the 21 miles to the highway, 50 more miles to Alpine, then up the Greys for 62 more miles…It was a long night. We got to camp at 2:00 AM.

We slept in a bit the next day. But after some sleep and a good breakfast, the CBs were ready to go. You can’t keep a Coyote down for long. Back to Labarge Creek. We were on the water by 10 AM. And sure enough, we got into fish. In fact, by noon we had all caught at least one fish. Here’s CB2 with a Colorado River cutt:

There was only one question now: Shall we go for the Bonnevilles? The answer was resounding in the affirmative. Off we went to Bonneville cutt country. It’s a long drive around the horn to Cokeville, and the crew was showing some signs of fatigue. Here’s S2 doing a little meditation on fishing:

We were on Hobble Creek by 4 PM. Truly this may be my favorite stream in Wyoming. It is simply breathtaking. We didn’t have long to fish, so one OG and one S went with each CB to help as needed. The truth is they didn’t need too much help, but S3 has a knack for finding fish when the chips are down. He located a deep hole with some pretty nice Bonnevilles hanging on the bottom. Surprisingly, the fish weren’t all that finicky either. By dark, the Coyotes had both caught nice fish. Here’s CB2 with a good one:

We still have one more fish to go. We’ll head to Dubois later this summer for Yellowstone cutts. But that quest is really just a means to an end. In the final analysis, it isn’t about fishing. It’s about cutthroats and cutthroat habitat, sure. But maybe it’s about something even more basic. On the way back to camp that night, I thanked S2 and S3 for their role in this whole adventure. S2 gave up his shot at a Bonneville so that the CBs could fish. S3 sat on that hole on Hobble Creek and patiently coached the CBs until they could hook and land a fish. These are really good men. They love Wyoming and they love fishing. But I love watching them teach boys to be men. Maybe that’s what it’s really about.

Walt Gasson, Executive Director
Wyoming Wildlife Federation