Searching For Ponds / Currant Creek

This week, I took an opportunity to get out with a local forum member whom I've "known" for about 4 years, but never fished with.  Bill (junk stripper) met me at my house at 6:00 and we set off with hopes of discovering some virtually unknown ponds that I've wondered about for years.

From the maps, these puddles in the upper end of the Right Fork, Currant Creek looked very promising, so our thoughts along the drive in were hopeful of large cutthroat.  The maps also made it appear as if a navigable road made its way quite close to these ponds, but we were prepared for a little hike, if needed.

After driving up several rocky paths that I thought would lead to our targets, it became clear that any roads that used to be active, have since been closed to motor vehicles.  So much for the easy way.

Knowing another spot where we could park within a half mile (straight line), we drove over to that and began our trek, gear at the ready.

A small trail cut its way through the timber and it seemed as though we wouldn’t have to endure too much bushwhacking.  We descended into a beautiful valley, crossing the Left Fork of Currant Creek on our way, which required a quick stop to check for life.

Though fish were visible at times, presenting anything to them effectively was difficult with how shallow the creek was.  The beaver ponds only yielded one small cutthroat for me and Bill wasn’t having any luck at all.

One hole in particular had a very fishy look about it and a gentle underhanded toss of a jig produced a pretty little cutthroat before we moved on to ascend a few hills and find our ponds.

At that point, we were unable to locate any trails headed the direction we needed to go, but mashing through the wild land wasn’t very bad at all.  We had an aspen canopy above us providing shade and a grassy forest floor to stroll through, only having to navigate a few fallen trees in some places.

Guided by my GPS, the waypoints grew nearer as our anticipation peaked.  Visually locating a clearing in the trees ahead of us, our unknown jewels lie in wait while we pushed on.

Alas, the only moisture we found was in the muddy soil where our first pond should have been, then the next, and next.  Bummer.

Oh well, that’s fishing sometimes.  As Bill stated, at least we now know and won’t waste any more energy on that idea.

We made our way back to the Left Fork, fished it for a bit, then returned to my truck to try and salvage the day at Currant Creek Reservoir, then maybe the lower creek, itself.

Our first stop at the lake was the north end, being closest, where I hoped we’d see some fast action at the inlets.

Low Pass Creek flows in from a pipe, where a nice little pool usually holds a slew of cutthroat, eager to bite.  Hoping Bill would shake off the skunk, I gave him first whack at it, but the black cloud remained over him.  I hate it when that happens.

Before totally dismissing the pool, I tossed in and watched as about 15 of the little cutts swiped at my Blue Fox, which was a bit too large for them, although one caught it just right.

Onward to the piped-in Duchesne River inlet (supplemental flow for the CWP), we threw plenty of gear into it, wondering if any fish were in there at all.  There were a few areas where the weeds had built up to the surface and created a nice area for fish to hide, but those too, left us blank.

It wasn’t until I threw a black sculpin pattern into the wash where the water came in, that I finally got a decent cutthroat to smash it.  Though the fish wasn’t large, it fought very hard and took over a minute to fight in.

Nice and healthy, and a little bit larger than the average cutt from Currant Creek.

It was released to grow a little more and we took off to fish the dam for awhile.

Fishing at the dam wasn’t much faster than it had been throughout the day, but at least we were getting follows from the mid-sized tiger trout that were cruising the shoreline.

It took some time, but I managed to find a willing mouth on a pretty tiger, which I kept for the table.

Our slow day got even slower and Bill still wasn’t getting any action, so we hopped down to the tail water and fished the creek for a bit.  Bill went downstream and I went up, into a narrow canyon that I’ve been eyeballing for a few years.

The Currant Creek Narrows, as I’ll call them, were really neat and the many pools alongside the cliffs looked really fishy, although each one baffled me, leaving me empty handed and without a bite.

Tell me this doesn’t look like the money spot:

But then I saw this little pocket and knew that something had to be there, waiting for my lure to buzz through.


Sure it was tiny, and a lot of work to get to, but it made falling into the creek and getting my pistol wet, worthwhile.  Luckily it’s a revolver and easy to clean/dry.

Meeting back up with Bill, he had finally landed a small brown and chased off his skunk.

So the day was long and arduous, but the few fish caught were earned and we saw some wonderful countryside.

Happy Fishing, Humans.

Some Background...


Why not go jogging, hit the gym, start a garden or whatever it is that normal humans do? What's so fascinating about these slimy little creatures that live in the water?

Fishing is a bit more to me than a hobby or a sport. It's an essential part of life that helps me connect with the Earth in ways similar to the long-practiced traditions of mankind. Wherever man has had a water source, there has been fishing.

It's only natural.

Happy Fishing, Humans.