The Drift: The Greatest Creek In Utah

Of course I can’t tell you where it is. I can, however, tell you everything else.

This creek flows out of a glacial valley, draining a large basin of the High Uintas Wilderness Area. Over the past decade, it has been the site of a few habitat restoration projects designed to give the native Colorado River cutthroat trout a better stronghold on the landscape. Despite that, it’s still home to plenty of brookies, rainbows, browns, splake, and the odd Arctic grayling.

Up in the wilderness area, and as it flows into the first of a handful of dams on its length, the creek is small and intimate. The sort of place we all love to visit and fish when we can, a true example of what you look for in a productive high country creek. The gradient isn’t so steep that it’s just pocket water for miles; the stream mellows out into proper runs and pools often enough to give the river plenty of variety. In a few places, you can uncork proper fly casts up to 30 feet, which isn’t always possible above 9,000 feet.

You’d expect this creek to be full of small trout. A decade ago, you were right. This creek was the sort of place you went when the size of fish didn’t matter. You’d head up here for the experience of clean, crisp air, the profound stillness of a vast glacial basin, and the quiet of the backcountry.

If you wanted big fish, you’d fish below the first dam, in a brief stretch of public water where the river winds through the valley floor. It’s deep and slow there, and home to some of Utah’s biggest brown trout. They don’t see enough anglers to be picky beyond belief, but they’re still wary. A poorly placed cast, or walking along the bank without considering your shadow, is enough to put these fish back under the cutbanks.

I haven’t fished this creek in a while. After moving away from the state where I grew up, I just haven’t had time. But we’re staying in Utah for a bit while building a new house, and I’ve been curious how the creek would fish. If nothing else, I knew it’d be a great time out in the high country.

We bypassed the creek below the first dam because I wanted to get as far away from civilization as possible. The hike isn’t too far – about two miles to bypass the dam and the lake – and within an hour of parking at the trailhead, we were stringing up our fly rods. The weather was perfect, the wind wasn’t blowing, and the creek was cold and clear. After a summer of hoot-owl restrictions and canceled floats, this freezing-cold water was a welcome reprieve.

My first cast with a size 12 cricket landed in the middle of a riffle. It floated for about two seconds before a brook trout rolled on it, and I set the hook in disbelief. The fish looked bigger than anything I’d ever caught here; sure enough, it taped at just over 12 inches. A monster for that creek, and shaped like a football instead of a skinny creek trout.

Thinking that was just a one-off lucky catch, I kept picking the water apart, landing a few more brookies that weren’t quite as long, but just as fat. My buddy put a gorgeous cutthroat in the net, followed by a 13-inch whitefish. The further we moved upstream, I expected the fish size to start dwindling. If anything, it just got bigger, with a few splake showing up, too.

Then, where another creek tumbles down a 10-foot waterfall into the main creek, I plucked a 15-inch cutthroat from beneath a willow. This is, by far, the biggest fish I’ve personally seen in this creek, yet it didn’t feel out of place for that day.

We fished our way a few more miles upstream, stopping only to eat the wild raspberries that dot the stream banks. After catching more nice-sized creek fish than we cared to count, we started the long hike back to the truck, still in relative disbelief at how great the fish looked. It was a far cry from the usual catch of 5-6 inch fish.

About two weeks after that trip, I was at the creek again. This time, we fished below the first dam, on an overcast, chilly day. The low ceiling and drizzle made the creek feel quieter and more intimate than usual. As we got out of the truck, we saw a few blue-winged olives float by on a subtle breeze.

Once we got to the creek, I saw a welcome sight – a pod of fish rising consistently to the menagerie of mayflies. Blue-wings, pale-morning duns, and some larger ones I couldn’t identify were all coming off. The fish launched themselves out of the water to eat the mayflies, and we happily obliged by putting as many in the net as we could while the hatch kept up.

These fish were hearty 14-15 inch brown trout. Not as big as the biggest fish in that section of the river, but plenty large enough to put a bend in my 4-weight.

The variety of fish and hatches, the scenery, the quiet, and the wildness the creek retains set it apart from most anywhere else I’ve fished in Utah. As someone who grew up and learned to fly fish here, I’ve had the chance to fish more of this state than a lot of folks.

I’d put this creek on par with any of the fisheries in Utah. Shoot, it’s right up there with my favorite spots in the West. Few places out here still feel relatively wild and untrammeled, and offer the sort of free-for-all fishing this creek does.

That’s why it’s so rewarding to go out and explore. You never know when you’re going to find the next creek you love as much as I love this one.