Idaho Falls

62 EAST IDAHO OUTDOORS MAGAZINE — FALL/WINTER 2014 Hope on the Line Fishing a restored watershed KRIS MILLGATE PHOTOS { B A C K W O O D S — T H E S T O R Y B E H I N D T H E S T O R Y } BY KRIS MILLGATE I have my eye on a bend in Jackknife Creek. I know it holds fish. It has to. It's perfectly sculpted to host a hotel for fish with a deep pool to swim in and overhanging willows for shaded cover. I position myself on the bank across from the bend. I hand my rod to my son. He hands it back. He wants me to cast first so he can watch what happens. My husband is watch- ing too. We're pretty competitive and we both like to be right so we'll place bets on just about anything. We have a bet running on this water. If fish are in here, I win. I take my usual anxious first-cast stance. You know the one. It's my serious face with slightly hunched shoulders so I can see a few inches farther, while I tighten my knuckle-white grip on my rod and cast a bit farther. I'm sure both behaviors do nothing for my presentation, but I can't help myself. That's just how I fish. I spy the perfect seam for a left-handed drift and drop the line on the current. The current is new. It's part of the recently restored Jackknife watershed near the Idaho-Wyoming border. The U.S. Forest Service and Trout Unlimited rebuilt a bridge, rerouted a trail and reconnected the creek to restore the native Yellowstone cut- throat trout fishery. I documented the work over a summer and wrote about it for this issue. 'Restoring Hope' pg. 24. If hope is truly restored, there should be fish in the bend I'm fishing. I hold my breath as the current catches my first cast and sends it sailing. My small, dry fly slides in a lazy swirl toward the bank and the water explodes. It's an eight-inch Yellowstone cutthroat trout. I have hope on the end of my line. The next explosion comes from us cheer- ing on the bank. Fish are back in a creek that was cut off more than a decade ago and we are witnessing the comeback less than a year after restoration. I quickly release the cuttie and cast again. Smack. Bam. Swoosh. Three cutties on my next three casts. I realize I'm hogging the excitement and hand my rod to my son as we explore other new bends downstream. Fish in every carefully created curve. I watch my boys, big and little, set hooks with delight. I walk the new trail and cross the new bridge thinking about all the effort and planning that went into restoring Jackknife. I'm thrilled to discover that it's working. No one else is around to witness our recovery verification on a successful sum- mer day out, but I know anglers will return to the watershed just like the fish did. The hunch in my shoulders proved right. There are fish in Jackknife. I win the bet.

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