The Search for Iowa Trout Part 6: Backbone, the Maquoketa, and Fenchel

This past weekend, I made one last camping trip to Backbone State Park north of Cedar Rapids. It was a chance to relax with a few friends and fish the Maquoketa River that runs through the park.

I had fished this river my first time getting wet in Iowa, and thought it fitting that this be (possibly) my last time hunting the elusive Iowa trout. So, I packed up the truck for a little car camping and made the hour-and-a-half drive from Iowa City.

Arriving at the Six Pine Campground late Friday, I joined Ryan, Phil, and Rachel for some great fireside conversation. As we enjoyed our discussion, the raccoons in the park made their presence known, stealing our bag of marshmallows; nothing like camping in the wild, where nature has been unaffected by human contact. Ryan and Phil claim that after I went to sleep on mats laid out across my truck bed that a raccoon came and stood about two feet from Ryan, trying to steal his beer. Ah, the great outdoors.

I awoke early enough Saturday morning to find Ryan sound asleep and Phil and Rachel enjoying watered down coffee. That gave me enough time to search out firewood and the fishing spots for the day. And, as I had remembered, the river hadn’t changed much.

The trout fishing is relegated to the Fenchel Creek section, after Rainbow Springs dumps its cold water in, until the stream merges with the Maquoketa. Within that section, there are several moments where the river crosses over/under the road forming upstream and downstream holes. And like the pay-to-fish trout ponds of my youth, the folk line up side-by-side to catch their limit. I call it grocery store trout fishing. Everyone is looking for food—not the for the sport of fishing—and they don’t care whether their cart runs into yours. The unfortunate thing is that this mentality carries over to the rest of the trout section.

I agreed to have Ryan, Phil, and Rachel join me for a fly fishing experience, so once I returned with the wood, we packed into two cars and drove back into the park. My ingenious idea was to hike back with them to the confluence of the Fenchel and Maquoketa, thinking that not many hike back there and the fish should still hold in those sections.

We parked in the circular parking/picnicking area below the first bridge over the Fenchel and hiked back in. We passed a family bait fishing with about ten fish on their combined stringers, the carcasses of filleted rainbow thrown on downstream rocks, and some fast-food wrappers strewn on the shore before crossing the stream and hiking down to the confluence. If, and I stress “if,” there is any place to have a reasonably pleasant time fishing, it’s this section just above the confluence. Everywhere else on Fenchel man, woman, and household pet crowd for their chance at a stressed out hatchery trout.

The only problem is that the trout below the confluence, where the Maquoketa drastically warms the stream temperature, are few and far between—hiding themselves within the gangs of junk fish. Below the confluence I spooked one trout (of nice size), and I only came upon it because I had to retrieve a fly from a deeper hole.

But the junk fish did provide the opportunity of the beginners at my side to catch fish on their first fly fishing outing. Rachel was able to pull out a mammoth junk fish but required that I remove the hook and release it back into the wild. With other things on their mind, it wasn’t long before the hikers were ready to head back to the campsite, and I headed downstream.

Like other sections I had fished below the confluence, there weren’t any trout to be spotted, just kids playing in the water or families picnicking on the shore. So I headed back up to the Fenchel section, to try my luck. I waded a few parts in and around the Cave only to find trout holding in the most unnatural places, wary of any thing that moved. I packed up again and decided to fish the Fenchel above the spring, and though this might be an interesting fish for the more adventurous (I did spot two trout and there were some sizable holes above the equestrian trail-head parking area), I didn’t have the energy, patience, or time. So, after a short hike up, I turned around and made my way to Rainbow Springs.

The springs, which are mostly diverted elsewhere, form two small ponds, and then overflow into the Fenchel. This overflow forms a nice pool, and when I arrived it was empty of men. In the course of about an hour, I pulled out two brown trout, one from each of the holes directly below and above the water entering from the spring. Moreover, during that time I had two men jump right beside me in the hole with their spinning rods and fish like I didn’t exist. The latter of the two coaxed strikes from the trout by literally dangling a lure in front of their faces until they struck at it. Then (and this is so strange) he would unhook the fish and throw it several yards downstream. Every time I would look at him, and during only a few of those glances did he look at me with that ignorant glance (retarded, if I may) as if he were doing the fish a favor. Stupid.

And that sums up my advice to any rational, conservationist fly fisherman, who is tempted to visit Backbone: Don’t be stupid. It’s a complete waste of time, unless you’re going to the park to spend time with your family. If that’s true, then spend time with your family, and forget the fly fishing.