Utah’s Trout Waters. 
Utah’s open season for trout began June 15, 
but for all that, the hundreds of anglers and 
“fishermen” who have industriously tramped 
the banks of our many 1 good trout streams daily 
—and Sunday, too—have so far done little dam¬ 
age to shy Salmo fontinalis and his relatives 
Truth is, every stream in Utah is running bank- 
full, and tons of picturesque mountain scenery 
are being rapidly shifted to the lowermost levels 
of the great fertile valleys by the mighty down- 
rush of the melting snows. 
First and last no less than a thousand ambitious 
fly-casters whipped the waters of the various 
streams on opening day; all kinds of tackle and 
lure were used, from the delicately fashioned 
fly to the lowly and succulent angleworm; it is 
estimated that the day’s aggregate catch did not 
exceed one trout to each ten rods. Snow waters 
continue to roll murkily toward the valleys, and 
conservative men—fisherwise and otherwise— 
opine that the “Eastern tourist” who happens 
along here about the middle of July and there¬ 
after will about “strike it right” for the big old 
lunkers, who put up the gamiest fight of any fish 
that swims. 
A most active angler is Uncle John Sharp, a 
grizzled youth of some sixty-five summers—no 
winters, thank you—who is also State Fish and 
Game Commissioner. Uncle. John has tramped 
over every foot of territory in the State since 
forty odd years back; he knows the exact loca¬ 
tion of more good “holes” than even the re¬ 
doubtable Fisher Harris, a right smart expert 
with the flies, but whose chief claim to distinc¬ 
tion lies in the fact that he evolved the “See 
America First” movement while on a short trip 
to Dreamland. 
About a year ago Uncle John—he is really 
the Nestor of fly-casting in Utah—was caught 
in an ice pack; his right arm was rather seri¬ 
ously injured, and as a consequence he is com¬ 
pelled to use a 16-foot double-handed special. 
It seems a little odd to watch him with his big 
salmon outfit, but there is not a single pool in 
the country he cannot throw his fly across. This 
grizzled game warden-—by the way, he is the 
first, last and only official of that title in Utah, 
now being in the tenth year of incumbency— 
packed up a day or two before the 15th, and 
with young Jack Tingey, son of the Secretary 
of State, hied him to the famed Strawberry, a 
stream noted for the size, abundance and beauty 
of the trout hidden in its waters. Tingey. Jr., 
comes by his love of angling honestly, his 
father being one of the most ardent and expert 
casters in the whole West. Jack is six or eight 
feet tall, and is still growing some. These two, 
accompanied by Deputy Game Warden Billy 
Ritter, who is the only deputy under pay in the 
State, fished several affluents of the Strawberry 
as well as the river itself; their jiont day’s 
catch was just three small ones. A number of 
anglers from Salt Lake City and several of the 
smaller towns failed to get enough to “scent the 
frying-pan.” And such is the story wherever 
you go. You meet a fellow who knows “where 
there is a deep hold with ’leven old wallopers 
m it,” but when you ask him to chart the par¬ 
ticular neck of the woods wherein that hole 
lies, he shuts up like a jack-knife and say nary 
a word more. Meantime those who eat trout 
are paying the restaurants 90 cents for three 
little weanlings that boost the price to 15 cents 
per mouthful. 
Contrary to the generally accepted Eastern 
idea, Utah has some fine trout waters. The 
Salt T ake visitor can get fair sport within a few 
miles—in a few instances via trolley. A score 
of good trout streams are to be found within 
less than sixty miles—all accessible by rail. And 
while the run of trout may not be so large as 
those taken in Wyoming and Idaho, four and 
five-pounder are by no means uncommon. 
Bear Lake is alive with natives—^‘red- 
throats,” according to Dr. Henshall—easily 
averaging five pounds; Commissioner Sharp 
says he saw several taken by net from this lake 
the present month weighing eight and ten 
pounds each, and was told of one which tipped 
the scale at eighten pounds. Speaking of this 
finest of all food fishes, Mr. Sharp spoke of 
their wanton destruction by the netters of Idaho 
as follows: 
“Bear Lake is partly in Idaho, partly in 
Utah. Utah legislates against netting; Idaho 
does not. Though these trout live in the lake, 
MR. STOCKDALE’s SALMON. 
they seek the streams for spawning, showing 
that they are the regular native of the Western 
country. They spawn in June, seeking the lake 
shores and following them till they are caught 
in the nets or escape them and find their spawn¬ 
ing beds up the river. Of course, these vandals 
with their nets take good care that few, if any, 
shall escape. For a mile on both sides of the 
lake, leading to the river, nets are set, and then, 
to make assurance doubly sure, some one has 
staked a battery of nets about 200yds. above the 
mouth of the river. When I was there a couple 
of weeks ago these vandals were taking the 
spawners at the rate of 500 to 2,000 pounds a 
day. None but the ignorant or criminal would 
do this—it is the same kind of a fellow who 
would kill a setting hen and sell her. or slaugh¬ 
ter a cow with calf. Of course, Utah suffers 
through the laxness of Idaho’s laws. If prop¬ 
erly protected, this lake would afford splendid 
trout fishing for generations; would, in fact, 
be a source of considerable income to the State 
and the people; but unless something is done, 
and done quickly, there will be no trout in the 
lake. And they are such gamy fighters, too. 
It is a pity and shame.” 
When it comes to fish and game protection, 
Utah’s Legislature is mighty mean and short¬ 
sighted. Hands out about $3,000 a year for sal¬ 
aries, hatchery expenses, and the like, and then 
asks, rather proud-like, “Where’s that 50 cents 
I gave you week before last?” Mr. Sharp re¬ 
ceives $1,000 a year—about enough to pay for 
the irrigation of his lawn grass. Deputy Ritter 
receives $600 a year and the State hatchery re¬ 
ceives a like sum. The other $800 is kinder 
dribbled for such necessary odds and ends as 
must be had. Yet, with all these drawbacks. 
Utah plants 2,000,000 fry a year. The railroads 
help with several hundred thousand additional. 
Mr. Sharp’s ambition is to plant 10,000.000 fry 
a year in Utah waters. “If the State would give 
me $i,oco a year I could do it, too,” he says. 
The State has a good hatchery and a competent 
man to look after it. With 10,000,000 fry an¬ 
nually, Utah would afford ideal angling. Some 
idea of the extent of Utah’s trout streams may 
be had when it is known that there are some 
115 mountain streams here capable of supporting 
trout life under the best of conditions for their 
perfect development: in all, a length of over 
1,000 miles. 
The best of these is the famed Strawberry, 
where native trout weigh up to six and seven 
pounds, where two- and three-pounders art 
usual, and where 200 and 300 trout may be taken 
in a day—if one belongs to the great order ot 
Game Hogs. Next in importance are the 
Provo, the Bear, and the uppper portion of the 
Ogden. 
Several 7-pounders were killed in the Provo 
last summer, and there be dozens of ambitious 
anglers who purpose repeating this feat during 
the summer. The Provo affords pretty nearly 
100 miles of picturesque fishing, and can be 
reached by two steam roads. Its lower reaches 
are rather over-done, because of its accessibility 
on Sundays. One should strike for the higher 
and more inaccessible parts of this noble stream. 
The Weber is as full of pretty and fascinating 
pools as a blushing girl’s face is full of dimples 
and changing expressions. Here one encount¬ 
ers some savage old campaigners, cautious and 
wary of strange flies as a self-made man is of 
new schemes. But there are anglers of the 
earnest, painstaking sort, who seldom fail to 
return with the 20-pound limit tucked snugly 
in their leather-bound creels. The run of trom 
is large; like most of the Western mountain 
trout, they are the native red-throats. This 
Weber River is a mighty busy little stream, and 
reminds one of the truculent Neversink, in Sul¬ 
livan county, N. Y., except the Neversink is 
twice or more larger. Both hurry and both 
sing loudly—one would better say shout. The 
upper reaches of the Weber—it is a good trout 
stream for fully 100 miles—from Wanship to 
Hallidaysburg, where are many handsome sum¬ 
mer homes—afford the angler opportunity to 
fill his creel with little exertion. Many deep 
pools there are; in each there is one or more 
gay fellow waiting for the right morsel of fluffy 
feather to tempt him to his last battle royal. 
This is one of the best streams in Utah; it is 
easily accessible bv rail at many points, and 
trains are timed for the accommodation ot 
anglers. 
Bear River carries a great volume of water 
down to the great Salt Lake; it. too, is a splen¬ 
did stream, affording seventy-five to a hundred 
miles of good fishing ground. Like all the 
other big rivers of Utah, the Bear is born away 
up in the Uintah range, where the altitude is 
13,000 feet and better. The Bear is not so pop¬ 
ular as the Weber and Provo, probably because 
it is not quite so accessible. But it offers beau- 
