“I know protecting them is important,” I said, “but what is fishing for greenbacks like?”

“They’re beautiful, special fish that live in amazing places,” he said, smiling. “They aren’t the only cutthroats that need to be protected, but their story is special.”

I had a lot of questions for the late Dr. Robert Behnke in the short amount of time we spent together. Completely aware that most people don’t want to talk work while not working, I still peppered him with various inquiries about trout. He didn’t seem to mind. I assume that when you are the world’s leading expert on salmonids, your office hours don’t end once you leave the classroom.

Greenback cutthroat trout have been squarely in the center of American fly fishing culture for decades. The story of the greenbacks is too lengthy to go into detail here, and much has been written regarding these special fish. Their supposed extinction, “discovery,” rediscovery, and conservation have been at the forefront of trout-centric causes for my entire life.

Consequently, I’ve always wanted to catch one.

Within a month of speaking with Dr. Behnke, I did go to Colorado. I sought out watersheds that contained populations of greenbacks. Not being a fly fishing trip, per se, I coordinated some time in the Rocky Mountain National Park and some hikes with the pursuit of my quarry. The scenery was magnificent, the rainbows and brookies came to hand, but no cutthroats of any kind were found.

Unfortunately, I don’t get out west often. This summer has marked nearly ten years since my last trip to Colorado and the trout in the Rockies. Once plans were finalized, getting greenbacks became a request and a hope.

A solo morning in the mountains paid off.

The hike up was spectacular. Being at altitude for a few days already seemed to have stabilized my system as I climbed the steep incline. Coming over the ridge, I saw a high-gradient stream at the bottom of a sharp valley. The plunge pools were deep and frequent, and seeing them reassured me that I knew – more or less – how to catch the fish if they were there.

They were. The first deep pool yielded a fat cutthroat. It was surprisingly long for the creek it inhabited. Back east, a brookie of that size in a mountain stream would be remarkable. Since I landed two more foot-plus greenbacks, I assume they’re a little more robust… at least where I had found them.

Their appearance is striking. The bold, black spots stand out even more than their trademark orange-red slashes. The hue of green is subtle, and much warmer than I had imagined it. Their mouths are squat, their pectoral fins large, and their red-to-blue parr marks unique.

The experience wasn’t religious. I wasn’t brought to tears. But it was special. At the end of the day, all I was doing was casting orange attractor dries into plunge pools while maintaining some semblance of stealth. The fly fishing wasn’t grueling, but the cumulative total of the scenery and the trout led to a real payoff. Especially since these hungry, beautiful fish had been swimming around the edges of my angling consciousness since I picked up a fly rod.

“I know protecting them is important,” I said, “but what is fishing for greenbacks like?”

“They’re beautiful, special fish,” he said, smiling. “They aren’t the only cutthroats that need to be protected, but their story is special.”

I had a lot of questions for the late Dr. Robert Behnke in the short amount of time we spent together. Completely aware that most people don’t want to talk work while not working, I still peppered him with various inquiries about trout. He didn’t seem to mind. I assume that when you are the world’s leading expert on salmonids, your office hours don’t end once you leave the classroom.

Greenback cutthroat trout have been squarely in the center of American fly fishing culture for decades. The story of the greenbacks is too lengthy to go into detail here, and much has been written regarding these special fish. Their supposed extinction, “discovery,” rediscovery, and conservation have been at the forefront of trout-centric causes for my entire life.

Consequently, I’ve always wanted to catch one.

Within a month of speaking with Dr. Behnke, I did go to Colorado. I sought out watersheds that contained populations of greenbacks. Not being a fly fishing trip, per se, I coordinated some time in the Rocky Mountain National Park and some hikes with the pursuit of my quarry. The scenery was magnificent, the rainbows and brookies came to hand, but no cutthroats of any kind were found.

Unfortunately, I don’t get out west often. This summer has marked nearly ten years since my last trip to Colorado and the trout in the Rockies. Once plans were finalized, getting greenbacks became a request and a hope.

A solo morning in the mountains paid off.

The hike up was spectacular. Being at altitude for a few days already seemed to have stabilized my system as I climbed the steep incline. Coming over the ridge, I saw a high-gradient stream at the bottom of a sharp valley. The plunge pools were deep and frequent, and seeing them reassured me that I knew – more or less – how to catch the fish if they were there.

They were. The first deep pool yielded a fat cutthroat. It was surprisingly long for the creek it inhabited. Back east, a brookie of that size in a mountain stream would be remarkable. Since I landed two more foot-plus greenbacks, I assume they’re a little more robust… at least where I had found them.

Their appearance is striking. The bold, black spots stand out even more than their trademark orange-red slashes. The hue of green is subtle, and much warmer than I had imagined it. Their mouths are squat, their pectoral fins large, and their red-to-blue parr marks unique.

The experience wasn’t religious. I wasn’t brought to tears. But it was special. At the end of the day, all I was doing was casting orange attractor dries into plunge pools while maintaining some semblance of stealth. The fly fishing wasn’t grueling, but the cumulative total of the scenery and the trout led to a real payoff. Especially since these hungry, beautiful fish had been swimming around the edges of my angling consciousness since I picked up a fly rod.

***

Read more about greenback cutthroats, and their story, here.