Henrys Lake 2026 Is In The Books
In The Company of Gentlemen
For the past five years I’ve joined a group of seven anglers for a week of fly fishing on Henrys Lake in eastern Idaho, just west of Yellowstone National Park. The draw of this shallow, 6,000-acre impoundment is its trophy-class fish: Yellowstone cutthroat, brook trout, and cutbows, a sterile cross between Yellowstone cutts and rainbows. The lake-record cutbow is 36 inches (17–20 pounds), and our group has tagged a couple over 28 inches in past years.
We go the first week of October. Fall at over 6,000 feet stirs the fish out of their summer doldrums and knocks back the weeds, making the fish easier to reach. The trade-off is weather. As the summer Pacific highs collapse, cold fronts roll through one after another. We’ve seen rain, 30-knot winds and, last year, snow. The definition of Type II fun.
Low Water, New Water
Every year at Henrys is different, and this year the challenge was low water. A dismal 2025 snowpack and drought left the lake at about 70% of full pool, roughly three feet below normal, and closed all but one boat ramp. We feared it would wreck the fishing. It did change the fishing, just not for the worse.
Many of the spots we’ve learned over the years were weed-choked and out of reach, so we were forced to explore new water. That’s where we found the fish. In sheer numbers, I’d guess our group caught more fish over five days than in any of the past five years, and we caught a lot. They ran smaller in general than past years, averaging 19 to 20 inches, with the biggest a little over 22. That’s not to say the Mondos[1] have moved on. Several were hooked; none were brought to hand.
Bluebird Blues
What was totally out of character was the weather. We suffered through five straight days of bluebird skies: morning lows in the 30s, afternoon highs in the low 70s, and almost zero, I repeat zero, wind. By noon some of us were fishing in shorts and sunscreen. The horror. The definition of Type I fun.
What Worked
The go-to flies were the usual suspects this group has refined over the years: small brown and black buggers, polywogs and balanced leeches in black with chartreuse bead heads, and old-school Bill Schiess patterns. The new entrant was a baby minnow pattern I tied up as an experiment.[2] It produced several fish and has probably earned a spot in the full rotation.
The Company, and 2027
What never changes is the company. This group spans Millennials to Boomers, and every one of them is an excellent angler, generous with what they know, and in good humor from start to finish. Just good people.
Coming into this year, I was on the fence about Henrys Lake 2027. There are fewer days ahead of me than behind, and so many places I still want to explore. After a week like this one, I’ll be back, and I may even add a day or two. For the company, if not the fish.
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