Billy Shaw Adventure

Returning from a hiking trip in southeast Utah last year, I revisited Mountain View Reservoir on the Duck Valley Sho-Pai Reservation—20 years since my last visit. My memory held true: big water, big fish, solid numbers. So, repeat success, right?

You’d think 40 years of fly fishing would prevent rookie mistakes. Not quite. Eager to kick off spring, I planned a trip two weeks earlier than the year before and paid for it. At 5,400 feet, spring was nowhere in sight—lows in the 30s, relentless wind at 25-35 mph. Before getting completely blown off the water, my first session yielded just one long-distance release. Same flies, same techniques as last year, but something felt off. So, on day two, I switched to Billy Shaw Lake.

Billy Shaw, a fly-fishing-only, quality-managed fishery, had been a challenge when I last fished it. Despite roaring winds, I’d landed plenty of 18”+ fish on damsel nymphs. This time, with the front gone and full sun, I had high hopes—but by noon, just one grab from a clearly big fish.

One joy of fishing Duck Valley’s lakes is their spot along central and western flyways. The bird life is spectacular—cranes, pelicans, grebes, teal, terns, and deafening blackbird choruses. But what saved this trip wasn’t the birds themselves—it was watching the Interior Least Terns dive for baitfish nearshore. Big fish eat little fish, right? A quick fly change to a white polliwog leech with a holographic head, and boom—first cast, 24” rainbow. Second cast, same result!

Turns out, fish were stacked along the channel edges in seven feet of water, ambushing from below. Stripping a fly from the flats into deeper water? Immediate grabs—and from massive fish. Across two days, I landed 10, lost just as many. The smallest was 20”, most over 24”. Deep-bodied, steelhead-class trout—not those bloated triploid oddities. They fought hard enough that I skipped pictures and stomach pumps, though a couple helpfully coughed up baitfish, proving my theory.

On my last day, I returned to Mission View and landed a lone 20-incher, reinforcing a familiar truth: I often abandon good fish, chasing puzzles or a new theory instead.

A great trip—one that only improves in hindsight. I’ll be back.