The early bird doesn't necessarily get the worm when it comes to fishing on the Provo in late October. From 8 am to about 11 am, the fishing was fairly slow. Managed to catch smaller browns, until the sun peeked over the distant Uinta Mountains and the bigger fish became much more active.
For dry-fly guys, with the sun and warmer temperatures, the duns were much more active and sizable fish were sipping and splashing all around in the tail-end of deeper runs. I meant to catch a few duns and post pics for future reference, but no cigar.
For nymphing guys, the action is still as hot as ever. I hooked into a hog and we fought it out for 24 minutes, before my damn tippet snapped. I was nymphing the middle section of one of my favorite runs and a huge hog took my bottom nymph. I can't compare this fish with the others in the past, but I have never hooked into a fish that wouldn't give an inch over such a lengthy period. To demonstrate how long the fight took, an angler had walked and began to fish two runs up from where I was. As soon as he started to fish that run, the huge brown took my nymph. While we fought, the angler had managed to thoroughly fish the run he was on and decided to head back downstream. It takes a little while to go up and downstream, because of the brush and smaller trees, and he managed to pop-out at the trail leading to the run I was on. He looked at me and nodded and then proceeded to fish the run downstream from me. The huge brown and I continued, and the angler thoroughly fished the smaller run. By now, my fish began to take the fight downstream and there was nothing I could do. There still was not an ounce of give and I felt more like a scientist tracking a whale's behavior via sonar, than an angler with a nice fish on.
Eventually, the fish headed towards where the angler was fishing and he offered to net the Brown. Until this point, I had only been luck enough to see the bright flash of brown's side as he shot past me in during the initial stages of our fight. The fish was certainly up there with the other trophy browns that I have caught, but later into our fight, I can't remember any fish in all my angling days that fought for as long as this fish did, without tiring in the slightest. At any point in our fight, if I would have pushed the issue and tried to force swing the fish, something would have failed.
So, the angler kindly takes my net and wades to the middle section, where it's fairly shallow. I am trying to get the fish towards him, but its holding it ground and we both slowly close in on it. I'm a little behind the angler shoulder, but he gets a great view of the fish and mentioned something to the effect that this was a monster of a fish. Says over 20 easily, but again, the fish is still submerged and it's hard to gauge much. Well, that's where the story ends. I am guessing that while in the shallower run, my tippet suffered some abrasion with the rocks and it weakened it enough to no longer handle the weight. I can tell by studying what's left of the tippet, that this loss can't be chalked up to a poor knot or another reason.
I wish I could say that this was my only sob story for the day, but I went 0 for 4 in being able to land the big ones--caught plenty of smaller and mid-size browns. In another instance, I was angling from a bank and hooked a large brown, who was holding in the slower water behind a large rock. We were battling for about 5 minutes and he managed to jet across the river to some slower water, opposite of the bank. The river bends into the bank where I stood and it's a little shallower and slower on the other side. Somehow, the fish managed to wrap my line around the butt-end of a submerged and very secured stick. I was forced to find a way down from the bank, cross the river, and untangle my line, while fighting this brute. Amazingly, once I freed my line from the stick, the fish was still on. Between all of the steps that I had performed, which included a half fall while forging across the river, there were periods where the fish had a lot of slack. Once the line freed, there was some more fight before the fish freed itself from my hook. Sad.
A series of failures sweetens eventual success, and nothing illustrates this more than when fishing. Still hurts to go 0 for 4.
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