Veni, Vidi, Defeci
I've returned from my latest adventure chastened but unbowed.
My summer quests usually have an organizing principle. For the past decade, mine has been off-trail backpacking and fishing in Montana’s Bob Marshall Wilderness and Wyoming's Wind River Range, chasing golden and cutthroat trout through some pretty stunning backcountry. 2026 called for something new — that, and I'm aging out of running around at 9,000 feet.
Enter the Wyoming Cutt-Slam. The Cowboy State has four native subspecies of cutthroat trout: Yellowstone, Snake River (Finespotted), Colorado River, and Bonneville. Isolated for generations in separate drainages, each has evolved its own coloring and markings, but they share one trait: all will rise to a even a poorly placed fly with abandon. The Slam simply requires you to catch and document each subspecies, and the state mails you a certificate. It is what it is — an adult participation trophy.
I spent the winter tying flies and planning a route through four river basins across the Wind River, Wyoming, and Teton ranges. Fo good luck I even added some new bling to my teardrop trailer, the Silver Hilton.
The results: I fished the upper East Fork Wind River (Yellowstone), the Greys River (Snake River), Hams Fork (Colorado River), and Sams Fork (Bonneville). The Wind and Greys were generous, with big fish rising to emergers and foam flies. Hams Fork, a fast spring creek rumored to hold large trout, was stingier — I raised a few fish but only landed one small one. Sams Fork/ Hobble Creek sit at the end of one of the worst roads in recent memory pucker factor included, but maybe that's exactly why the Bonneville cutthroat fishing was so good.
The wildlife was as varied as the landscape: elk, sandhill cranes, deer, antelope, and bison. My bear spray, thankfully, never left its holster, even in some fairly "wooly" country. I saw exactly one other angler each day — and it wasn't for lack of fish.
The fishing had been good, and I headed home early and confident, hoping to beat a heat dome forecast to push highs past 110°F. Confident, but for one nagging doubt: a small fish from that rough morning on Hams Fork. It had orange slashes at the throat but a distinctive lateral line — the Colorado River cutthroat's calling card, I told myself, or maybe just parr marks on a young fish. I buried the doubt and came home triumphant.
Before submitting my application — photos, GPS coordinates, the works — I ran the pictures past Gemini. Three came back as expected: Yellowstone, Snake River, Bonneville. The fourth came back as something else entirely: a redside shiner. Yep, a minnow.
Crushed. Just crushed. The quest isn't finished after all — looks like I'm headed back next year to close it out. Damn!
