Fishing Armstrong Spring Creek with Swans

We drove to Livingston on Monday (July 28th) so Jack could check out the two famous (among flyfishermen, at least) spring creeks that flow alongside the Yellowstone River about 6 miles south of Livingston. We already located a KOA campground in the area and decided to stay there for two nights. We stopped first at the Nelson Spring Creek to check in and pay the stream fee. [Carol aside: These streams are on private land and the rancher owners charge a fee and limit the number of rods per day on the stream. You have to reserve your space months in advance. The creeks are very clear, cold and grassy and full of wily, big trout who are notoriously difficult to catch, because they have all kinds of natural bugs in the water to eat. People come from all over the country, indeed the world, to test their fishing skills in these spring creeks. The pressure was on.]

Jack purchased some flies, got some tips on fishing these spring creeks, and made arrangements to have a guide for the evening of  August 2nd. Then we headed over to Armstrong Spring Creek to check in, pay the stream fee and scout out the stream. Finally we drove to the KOA and settled in for the night.

Morning Fishing the Armstrong Spring Creek (by Jack)

I wanted to get up early so I could get a good spot on the river. We arose at 6 am, had breakfast and headed over to the Armstrong. I was the first fisherman on the river.

As I entered the river I noticed off to the left two big blobs of "foam" on the far bank downstream about 100 yards. I had already rigged up with a long 12-foot, 6x  leader with two very small (size 20) nymphs. I waded up to the head of a riffle and cast in. The wind was blowing upstream, quite strong. It seemed that every time I cast, my flies would end up blowing about 5 feet upstream and creating a big bend in my line that caused my flies to drag. Dragging flies through the water is a real no-no and tells the trout that these are imitations. Trout that have been hooked several times won't touch them, let alone eat them.

To try and get a drag-free drift, I waded into the middle of the stream, where the fish usually are feeding, so I could cast into the wind and hopefully get something that resembled a drag free drift. No such luck. After numerous attempts, I had no trout taking my flies. Once the wind suddenly picked up during a cast and blew the flies back at me. I got tangled in my own flies and fishing line. The smallest nymph got stuck in my middle finger and the other on my wader straps at my back. I had forgotten to crimp the barbs on my hooks, so I had to pull the one out of my finger, barb and all. Ouch! The one stuck to my back strap would not come out so I had to cut my leader and tie on new flies.

While I was tying on the new flies, I noticed about 7 fisherman arriving on the water. I mistakenly thought that only 6 rods were allowed on this stream per day. Turned out 12 rods were allowed. So here we were lined up on the river separated by 100 to 150 feet apart. Trout began to rise to the surface taking emerging nymphs. They were not taking mine and I noticed that they were not taking the flies of other fishermen, except one. This fellow looked like a professional fishing guide. He had no trouble casting across the wind and he was hooking fish about every 3 to 5 casts.

My feet got so cold that I had to leave the stream for awhile. When I got back in, I had lost my place and had to move downstream to where I noted no one was fishing. I soon found out why. The two blobs I thought were foam were now big swans, and they were not too happy that I had invaded their space. About every 5 minutes they pretended to take off, beating their wings on the water, then circling back, leaving waves and feathers all around. It quickly became obvious to me that they didn't want me around and planned to scare off all the trout I was trying to catch. I gave up and moved further downstream. The fellow I thought was a guide continued to catch trout.

The two white blobs were two very large wild swans.

Downstream I had no luck either. I had been in the water almost 6 hours and finally headed back to have lunch. When I arrived at the picnic shelter, Carol was talking to the fellow that I thought might be a guide. Turned out he was a great person, also from Virginia (!), and he WAS a flyfishing guide. He too had come out of the water with nearly frozen feet. He was a schoolteacher and basketball coach from Loudoun County, Virginia. He used to live in West Virginia and was a full-time guide on the Elk River, where I had fished a decade or so ago. Now he still guides part-time on the Elk although he had moved back to Virginia to be a full-time teacher and coach. When I asked him what he was using, he responded that he was using a dry fly that he called a "Usual." I had no idea what he was talking about so he opened one of his many fly boxes and showed me all the variations he tied of a mayfly called a Pale Morning Dun (PMD for short). He even gave me one.

We chatted for a while and then it seemed that all the other fishermen decided it was time to have lunch too. Carol made me a sandwich and we sat on the picnic table benches with eight fishermen, swapping tales. The guide went off to eat elsewhere with his Dad and a friend who were upstream at another table.

After lunch I decided to relax a while and wait until later afternoon when a small mayfly called a "Sulphur" was supposed to be hatching off the stream. Carol and I drove up river and noted the guide and his father and friend were at the second parking area. We continued upstream where the stream was smaller and I fished a grasshopper imitation, with no luck, no bites, no nothing.

The upper stream is small and the surrounding grass is full of grasshoppers. But no takes on my imitations.

Evening Fishing the Armstrong Spring Creek

Around 5 pm Carol and I drove back down to the second parking area and noted no one was there now. Trout were rising and the wind had died down. I assumed the rising fish were feeding on tiny Sulphur mayflies emerging from the water. I tied on one of the tiny size 22 Sulphur imitations I bought at Nelson Spring Creek flyshop the day before. I remembered the woman (who will be my fishing guide on Nelson on August 2nd) telling me that the trick is to sight a feeding fish and then drift the fly down to the fish. I sighted several feeding fish near the bank. I took her advice and floated my fly down to the first fish. Almost to my amazement (and Carol's), the trout took my fly and I landed a 16-17 inch Brown trout. Carol was watching nearby and took photos.

Fish on! (at last)

While my face doesn't show it, I am totally elated. This is a good sized Brown trout.

This is the tiny fly I caught the brown trout on.

I continued to fish and was later joined by the guide's dad in the same big hole. I hooked a very large trout, but that one got off. Then I caught another Brown trout in the 14-15 inch range. Both trout were caught on a size 22 Sulphur imitation (a very tiny fly). I quit fishing around 7:30 pm when the sun got near the horizon and the glare on the water made it impossible to follow my fly. We packed up and headed back to the KOA to celebrate with cookies, a glass of wine, and some reheated pizza. For me it was a perfect ending. Many experienced trout fisherman come to these spring creeks from all over the world and don't catch any fish. Thanks to the advice of the woman from Nelson Spring Creek and the guide from the West Virginia Elk River, I wasn't one of them.