The Search for Iowa Trout 5: The Little Turkey River and Elk Creek

I never thought I would start one of these blog entries with this but, the crotchety old people who play cards at the gas station on the Turkey River near Garber, IA are evil. In fact, if you read this, do not give them your business!!! I'll explain this later....

I needed to get out. With two days before the final portion of my comprehensive exams, I just need some fresh air. This stress of preparation turned this whole school year into one gigantic study session, and Saturday stood as the first glimmer of the normality I had before all this. So, my good friend Andrew Rampey and I packed up my truck and headed up to find the Little Turkey River.

The process of "finding" felt like it took up the whole morning...and maybe it did. From the standard issue Iowa trout map, the Little Turkey River was somewhere near Colesburg. But, for a time Colesburg seemed like it was as close as we were ever going to get. My trusty Garmin Nuvi 360 guided us into the town, where we stopped to grab some sandwiches and to ask for specific directions. The young lady behind the counter apparently didn't hear me say "Little" before "Turkey River," and thus began are chase down the rabbit trail. She sent us north out of town and toward the general direction of Osterdock and Garber. For at least an hour after that we seemed to be driving in one huge circle.

And here is where the evil card-playing elderly of Garber come into play. We stopped at a gas station right next to the Turkey River to get directions and the inhospitality of the dying in that hole-of-a-gas-station was immediately evident. Well, let me be kind, maybe they had just lost their minds and actually weren't intentionally trying to get us lost, but from our perspective each person gave us purposefully obscure directions which were in the complete opposite direction of where we needed to go. Note to self: never start a conversation with "We're from the Carolinas" in Garber, Iowa.

We finally decided to get back into Colesburg and start over. Andrew was able to make out a road heading directly east out of Colesburg on the map, and after a few turns and the kindness of a mother with her defenseless child strapped to a stroller, we were on our way to the Little Turkey. (The road out of Colesburg, by the way, is Hubbard St./Voyager Road.)

The night before I had decided to try this river because it had a put-and-grow section which in my mind was translated, "big fish". (Had I forgot I was in Iowa?) Initially, I mistook the put-and-grow section for a beautiful stretch of the river running through some cattle fields about 3 miles out of town. We stopped at the farmer's house and the sweet "Aunt Edna" who answered to door let us know the "boys" catch some fish from the river on the property, and we were welcome to give it a try just as long as we shut the gates behind us.

Man! This stretch of river is absolutely beautiful: clear, deep, and surrounded by rising hills. The water had this aqua-blue tint that almost reminded me of New Zealand. Only one problem: no fish. We slung our flies into several "juicy" holes without even a glance or flash at our flies. My best estimation for the absence of trout was the recent water levels of the river. From the mudded sides of the river, it looked as though the recent winter snows and rains had caused some sort of massive wash-out through that portion of river, and anything living in that portion either moved down- or up- river to compensate. For our sakes, we hoped it was up river.

Andrew was keen enough to realize that we were downstream of the state-managed section of the Little Turkey, so we threw our stuff back into the truck and headed upstream. There is a small park (Ram Hoffman Wildlife Area) which provided a place to leave the truck, and from there, Andrew and I hit the river. Water flow was considerably less in this section, but it was clear the DNR regulated this portion. We came across a few fellow casters who weren't having any luck, and other than some overly-active spawning bottom feeders, I began to question whether there were fishing here either.

Until.... I decided just to casually stroll up the river and plop my wooly bugger into the deeper pools. In one of the most unexpected spots this lonely rainbow decided it was time to make a new friend, and, well, I landed the largest Iowa trout I had caught to date.

With the bow as a memory I decided to hike up to the put-and-grow-section. By this point the river had divided, and turned into a creek. Nevertheless, I expected there to be some hungry little fellas willing to jump out of the water for a small car. The stocked fingerlings were ever-present, and their coloring was a reminder to the beautiful artistry of the Lord.

Andrew wasn't as fortunate on the Little Turkey, and this only his third or fourth time fly fishing a river, I decided we should pack up and head down the road. One of the anglers I ran into mentioned a good section regularly stock in the Twin Bridges area. So, we again jumped into the truck and drove about 12 miles directly east on Route 3. We came to the Twin Bridges campground, ate some lunch on the riverside (while watching an over-equipped gentlemen fling a dry-fly around), and jumped onto the river.

Elk Creek had a decent flow for an Iowa stream, but the pressure it receives appears to be over-the-top. On a Saturday evening, still early in the spring, there wasn't a hole or run not being dredged with a spinner by some camouflaged sportsman, who'd look a lot more comfortable sitting in a john-boat on some reservoir. This gave me hope that Andrew would catch a trout, but it also dampened to exoticness of the task of fishing.

I began with a brown that challenged (in length) the bow I earlier caught. And shortly afterward Rampey caught a smaller bow. Both were taken on buggers, but there was a decent amount of activity on the top of the water--a dark cream-colored caddis was beginning to come off. Unfortunately, these trout were stocked only a day or two before, so they hadn't become acclimated to their new source of food.

With the oral defense of my exams looming in the back of my mind, I fished into the early evening and then went back to my truck to review for the tests. I left Rampey to himself and the river. I don't think he landed anything else, but neither of us could complain about the day. We caught fish, enjoyed the warm outdoors, and saw some beautiful Iowa scenery. And, I can mark the Little River and Elk off my list.

Oh, and it wasn't all a loss... Andrew recovered a nymph fly from the fish he caught!