Kolob Reservoir just what the doctor ordered
The road to Kolob Terrace winds its way from the red dirt of the valley floor past sandstone bluffs that mark the western edge of Zion National Park in southern Utah. It climbs steadily in elevation until it passes through stands of quaking aspen scattered among mountain meadows. Follow the road far enough, and you will arrive at Kolob Reservoir, at times an angler’s paradise.
At times, because Kolob isn’t always kind to those who fish in her cold, blue waters. Then again, there are times when Kolob can be generous. Such was the case Friday and Saturday.
After three months of physical therapy and post-operative restrictions limiting the use of my right shoulder, I was going stir crazy and needed to do something other than range of motion exercises. Then came Don’s timely invitation to take a weekend trip to Kolob. My physical therapist gave the nod but made me promise to cast only with my good arm. Given that I am very right-handed, casting my fly-fishing rod was sure to be an interesting adventure.
We got an early start Friday, and by late morning, we were kicking our float tubes across the upper end of the reservoir. Kolob is a 250-acre impoundment situated in a small valley near the top of a shallow canyon at an elevation of about 8,100 feet. Generally, one can expect to wear a jacket or coat in the high country during October, but it was warm enough that we were only in shirt sleeves.
Joining us on the trip were son Hyrum and friends Matt, Paul and Trevis. With the exception of Hyrum, who prefers to remain on good old terra firma, we spread out across the reservoir in search of fish. Hyrum spent the day exploring the shoreline.
Because Kolob has an abundant crawdad population, I started with a brown Woolly Bugger and worked my across the upper end of the reservoir. As Don and Trevis disappeared around a rocky point, I found myself trolling the fly along a rocky shoreline. I felt a light tap on the end of my line and instinctively raised the rod to set the hook expecting to find a smallish trout on the business end. That is when my rod tip suddenly bent toward the water and the fish began taking line.
A few minutes later, a rather plump rainbow trout lay in the stripping basket on my float tube. It measured 18 inches from nose to tail and required both of my hands to let it go. The skunk was off.
As the day passed, Trevis, Don and I managed to find a section of water that was somewhat protected from an afternoon wind and just seemed to hold fish. By then, we were using Prince Nymphs in sizes 12 or 14. Though we didn’t catch large numbers of fish and had to work for the ones we caught, the fish we did reel in were well worth the effort. By day’s end, I had caught just six fish, four that measured 18 inches, and two that were 17 and 16 inches. The catch included four rainbows and two cutthroats. The others had similar catches.
After gathering back at the cabin where we stayed for the weekend, we compared notes on the day. As usual, Don caught the most fish, but Paul had the biggest fish story. It involved a 23-inch rainbow.
Saturday morning found us back at the same place we fished the evening before. This time, Matt and Paul joined us. Again, the fishing wasn’t fast, but the fish were all good size, hovering right there in the 17- to 18-inch range. It was here I managed to catch my largest fish of the weekend: a 19-inch rainbow that refused to pose for a photo. But the most exciting catch of the trip came late in the afternoon.
After taking an afternoon nap, we launched our tubes near the dam and went to work once more. Eventually, Trevis and I made our way to a boulder-covered shoreline, where the oaks reached out over the water. A few minutes later, my Prince Nymph touched down about a foot from a dark corner in the rocks. I let it sink and then made a short strip, then another and then I felt a tap. Nothing more, just a tap.
I set the hook and suddenly found myself locked in a battle of wills. For what seemed like several minutes, the fish and I fought at each other. Around and around my tube he went. I kicked my fins just to keep up. When I finally netted him, the fish measured only 18 inches long, but he was by far the heaviest fish I caught on the trip. The kick back to the truck was a long one, but it was worth it.
Kolob was generous indeed. Now I wonder what will happen during our next go-round.
— Freelance writer Doug Nielsen is a conservation educator for the Nevada Department of Wildlife. His “In the Outdoors” column, published Thursday in the Las Vegas Review-Journal, is not affiliated with or endorsed by the NDOW. Any opinions he states in his column are his own. He can be reached at intheoutdoorslv@gmail.com.
