I once met an Englishman on the Gibbon River in Yellowstone who had actually fished the River Test in Hampshire, England. I wanted to reach over and just touch him! The Test is known worldwide for its great trout fishing. It is in fact considered holy water by trout fishermen around the globe. Here many of the techniques still used today in this great sport were first developed. Everyone who has ever trout fished feels a kinship with the Test, and I assume most who cast the fly have dreamed of fishing there. I have. I once suggested to my wife that it would be wonderful to travel to England and fish the Test. There is no need to record her rely here! So, talking to the Englishman that day on the Gibbon is probably about as close to the Test as I will ever get.
Therefore, the Gibbon River in the western section of Yellowstone National Park has become my River Test. The Gibbon like the famed Test abounds with brown trout. On the day I met the Englishman, I had just emerged from the stream after taking nine beautiful browns along with a rainbow and two brook trout. He asked me what kind of luck I’d had and was very complimentary when I told him of my morning’s success. That made my day! Praise from an Englishman who’d actually fished the Test was no light thing! I felt I’d arrived as a fly fisherman!
At any rate the Gibbon has been good to me. Here I once took a nineteen and one half inch brown while fishing with my son Jody. I caught an eighteen inch fish from my favorite pool on the stream at Gibbon Meadows. The trout took a dry fly, a Pale Evening Dun, if my memory is correct. My best fly on the Gibbon however has always been the Soft Hackle Pheasant Tail Nymph. Unlike those who fish the famed Test in Hampshire, England with the dry fly, I prefer the nymph above all else. In a very deep pool, a quarter mile upstream from where I took the big brown on the Pale Evening Dun, I caught my biggest trout ever from the Gibbon, a brown that would have gone a good three pounds. That morning I was fishing the river with my son in law Jim Wood, and my grandson Hayes. Earlier on the trip, Hayes had caught what was probably his biggest trout ever, also a three pound brown from the hallowed stream No wonder I love the Gibbon!
The river has also been my teacher. She has taught me much about the art of fishing the fly. On one of my first trips there, I had a never to be forgotten experience even though I caught only a single trout. One of the most remarkable fly hatches I’ve ever seen took place that afternoon. In my ignorance, I had no idea what kind of flies they were, but believe me the trout had no trouble identifying them. Fish were rising all over the river, and creating a continuous series of slurps and splashes. I cast a dry fly among them until it was completely waterlogged and never had a single strike. There was no question as to whether I had matched the hatch or not. I had failed miserably. I finally caught the single nine inch trout I took that afternoon after the hatch subsided.
The following day I hurried with all due speed to the nearest fly shop where I was told the flies I’d seen the day before were caddis flies. I bought a dozen sized 14 Elk Hair Caddis and that evening managed to catch a few fish. In years to come, I would take many trout on the caddis, but on the Gibbon, I first learned about the role of this popular and effective fly.
The years 2009 and 2010 were especially productive ones for me on the Gibbon. I, in fact, took more than a hundred fish that latter year from the Gibbon and other nearby streams. We had a good trip again to the Gibbon in 2014, as noted above, when I fished there with Jim and Hayes, my son in law and grandson.
I did not fish the River again until 2018. My wife, Patsy, was experiencing some health problems at that time and there was some question as to whether we should make the long drive out to Wyoming. Our doctor however gave his approval for the trip and we elected to go in September since we had never been west in the fall. For the most part, however, rather than fish, we just drove over the park and again saw the wonders we’d first visited almost fifty years before as newlyweds. In other years, I’d left Patsy at the motel while I’d fished in the mornings and then took her to see and do whatever she wanted to do in the afternoons and evenings. (Including going to the local theater) Not so in 2018. I simply could not bring myself to leave her alone. So, she went with me during the brief times I fished and sat nearby in the vehicle. I did catch a few fish from the Gibbon on that trip.
The year 2019 was the 50th anniversary of our first pilgrimage to Yellowstone. We wanted to make the trip at least once more, and on that 50th anniversary if possible. Again our doctor gave us the green light. Once more we choose the month of September for our safari. It was a good trip. We followed basically the same plan as that of the year before, driving and sightseeing with brief periods of fishing. A day or two after our arrival, we drove over to the Gibbon. I parked at the very lower end of Gibbon Meadows. There the river enters a canyon and changes from a slow moving flat water stream to become a much faster more rugged trout habitat.
I set up a spanking new fly rod built for me by my friend Bobby Cooper. I had never used it before and thus had never taken a fish on it. Tying a Soft Hackle Pheasant Tail Nymph on my leader, I began casting. The new rod handled like a dream, and I’d cast only a few times when I felt the weight of a good fish. It turned out to be a nice brown. I caught a couple more before I rejoined Patsy at the vehicle, and we drove back to our motel in West Yellowstone. During the week, I also visited my old haunts on Nez Perce Creek, The Firehole River, the Madison River, the Yellowstone River, and Yellowstone Lake. I caught a few good rainbows on the Nez Perce, then hooked and lost several browns on the Madison. I did take a couple of Mountain White fish there at the famed Horse Barns Pool. I failed to get a strike on either the Yellowstone River or Yellowstone Lake. Later, I did catch a few more fish on the Nez Perce.
The week went by all too fast, and the time was rapidly approaching when we would be leaving Yellowstone, in all probability, for the last time. Before we left though, I had some unfinished business on the Gibbon. We drove up to the Meadows that Saturday, and I fished very hard before I finally took a couple of decent browns at the beloved location. Then, we returned to the pool when I’d taken my first brown of the trip. Here, I would end my career on the River Gibbon, my River Test if you please. Casting the old faithful Pheasant Tail with my new rod, I had almost given up when a fish took my nymph. I fought him in. It was a good brown. I gently removed the hook, touched the trout on the nose with my lips, and eased him back into the river. I had taken a brown with my final cast on the River Gibbon, and now, I could go home at peace.
Editor’s note: Roy Hawkins is an avid outdoorssman and his hunting book can be found on amazon.com under Horizon’s East.
