Jones Hole Creek wasn’t named for author Brian K. Jones or his son, Dave, pictured here at the confluence of the creek and the Green River. But they feel at home here, and so will you. Photo by Quinton Inglet

I was two days into a raft trip down the lower Green River, a silt-filled ribbon of brown soup that winds through one of the deepest canyons in the world. As we approached camp for the night, I saw a crystal-clear stream that poured into the river, carving a silver arc far out into the muddy silt and sand.

Then I saw big shapes darting through the water -- fat and healthy trout, rushing to safety.

We beached the rafts, grabbed our rods, ran upstream and skipped the usual rock-rolling and surface scanning for insects. I tied on a hopper-dropper. Below the creek mouth, clear water hugs the Green River bank for about 200 yards.

We stood on the bank in the afternoon sun and watched three large trout feeding lazily on nymphs. My 23-year-old son Dave headed upstream. I greased the stimulator, extended line and shot the fly 20 yards across the water. It landed softly and danced across the riffle, its greased elk hairs glistened. I stripped line, my eyes fixed on the bobbing fly.

Moments later, both flies lay near my feet. Nothing! Picky fish.

Jones Hole Creek is one of the greatest wonders of the Utah desert. Ice-cold and crystal-clear, born from springs 600 feet above the canyon, it rushes down the canyon for four short miles before being consumed by the muddy waters of the Green. Every foot of it is filled with trout.

“This is God’s gift to trout fishing,” said a local game warden who checked my license. I couldn’t agree more, and there are many reasons why. At the creek’s headwaters is Jones Hole National Fish Hatchery, which produces 175,000 pounds of trout a year. The really good news is, it leaks!

A FISHING OASIS
Back at the bank, I rolled rocks in the clear water. It was a veritable smorgasbord: mayfly nymphs of varying sizes, abundant caddis cases, small leeches, an occasional sow bug and worm. These fish could be eating anything.

I tied on a caddis nymph -- the most abundant variety on the rocks -- and tossed it upriver. Immediately the stimulator streaked across the water’s surface. I lifted the rod tip, felt the tight line and with drag singing, watched the line race out into the current of the Green. The fish dashed downriver, jumped once and -- snap! My line lay limp on the water.

Just then, six river rafts and four kayaks rounded the bend and beached, right in the middle of our fishing hole.

“Let’s try the creek,” David said.

The creek is an oasis. On all sides, massive sandstone cliffs rise 2,000 feet above the canyon bottom. It’s dotted with sagebrush, juniper and piñon pine. The creek itself is lush with overhanging cottonwoods, box elders, grasses, nettles and brush.

A consistent year-round flow supports a healthy, varied insect population. This varied menu makes the trout selective. We’ve had success with generic fly patterns. But when you match the hatch successfully, the creek explodes with fish.

Much of the creek is narrow and brushy and difficult, but excellent fish can be found in pockets along its margin. Shorter rods are preferred, and an occasional slingshot cast can produce. Beautiful holes open up with regularity.