Wrestling Westslopes on the Wigwam

 

"My father was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To him, all good things - trout as well as eternal salvation - come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy." - A River Runs Through It

The Wigwam River is a pretty and remote stream that flows into the Elk River in the East Kootenay of British Columbia.
Its turquoise pools are pristine and the trout that hold in them are big and beautiful Westslope cutthroat trout.
I set out for the Wigwam at the end of last month with Colin and his three sons Spencer, Taylor, and Aiden in tow.
We rolled in about five in the evening and camped at Ram Creek, some 44 km. up the Morrissey line.
We set up the tent, then tried a few casts in the small stream that winds into the Wigwam about 100 metres downstream. Some nice cutthroat rose methodically, but as one fly fisher exiting the stream put it, "They're educated."
We woke relatively early and loaded the Subaru for a quick drive down river. We pulled off to the side of the road and began the descent into the canyon.
There are trails on the Wiggy, but finding them is difficult if you are new to the area, and once found they are eminently easy to lose. A guide once took me into some incredible areas on an obscure and precipitous path, that I couldn't find for the life of me for 10 years, so I've since been know to bushwhack precarious terrain in search of the elusive pools.

Colin lands the first cutty of the trip with help from Aiden on the net.

After a 30 minute hike, we emerged on the Wigwam overlooking a rock wall and large pool. Colin had his rod strung in no time and was fighting the first cutthroat of the trip on his first cast.
To no one's surprise, he lost it, but rebounded with another only moments later, and with the help of Aiden brought it to the net.

Aiden's all smiles with this
nice cutty.

Aiden, 14, is a natural fly fisher, his casts are smooth and effortless, and he understands that fly fishing is all finesse, timing, patience, and dumb luck.
It didn't take him long before he hooked and landed his first, and second cutthroat in the same pool.
Taylor on the other hand, being older and more accustomed to spincasting, was frustrated early, for anyone who has ever tried to cast a fly for the first time will invariably  heave the rod mightily and the line and fly will come crumbling down around you as though it were laughing.


Jim hooks up with another large westslope cutthroat.

Colin, Aiden, and Taylor: a symphony of casts

But after a few quick lessons, Taylor began to throw string if not in an easy manner, one less complicated and therefore more successful than his first attempts. He too hooked a few nice cutthroat, and landed one of the larger ones that day, a fat 18-incher.
I continued to move upstream with a prescient determination, as though something special lay ahead. I landed a few cutthroat on the way, then navigated a long boulder-strewn run, and looking up in the distance I could just make out an oddly familiar rock construction overhanging a deep arching pool of turquoise.
As I approached I became more and more certain that it was indeed the pools of heaven I visited a decade earlier. And when at last I stood on the shore and surveyed her depths, the sight of 30 or 40 bull trout stacked up on the bottom, confirmed for me that it was that same pool I had sought so earnestly for years.
I like to think we caught some good trout in there that afternoon, but I can't remember.


Westslope cutthroat trout

I know we didn't target the spawning bull trout save for a few forays with a large streamer pattern. Smaller cutthroat generally clear out of pools like that as the bull trout out compete them for space and holding water. Large cutties however will remain and feed on the eggs, and other invertebrates.
As Colin and I left the pool, I looked for the trail that first took me down. I noted a slight sloughing of gravel on the bank, and an opening through the dense brush. I followed it and sure enough it turned into something resembling a game trail, but then became more distinguishable as it climbed steadily through the forest. Colin continued downstream to meet up with the boys, while I clung to the trail, hiking straight up to the road.

The Munros at White Swan Lake, B.C.

I rejoined Colin and the crew further down stream. It was early evening and Colin had in the meantime enjoyed a prolific green drake hatch, with cutties rising to his fly on nearly every cast, while he laughed maniacally with every hookup.
It was a great trip that continued on to the White Swan and a stop at the trout hatchery on the Bull River, which was very interesting and a must-see for anyone traveling down the Bull River Road.