The stream flows north. She wanted to get there prior to school starting, so that's what we did. Saturday's objective was to hike the trail above the landing strip north east to its mouth at Kelly. Prior to getting to the airstrip, we noted how every time we drop into Idaho over Hoo Doo the scenery is stunning. I was ready for some new exploring further down this drainage. We departed from camp in the afternoon and quickly realized the trail was above the creek, but well below the ridge top to the west. It was a steep side hill for most of the jaunt on a washed out trail. Further, the trail was overgrown with laurel and hucks. The hucks were actually a nice addition, but the balance of the overgrowth meant an eventual erosion of enthusiasm. We bushwhacked our way down to the creek, breaking off of the side of the mountain.
Cayuse narrows in this section and has wonderful pocket water. It is a bit dangerous as there are many sections requiring climbs over large rocks. We took our time. After only getting about half way to Kelly, we decided to call it a hike, fishing our way back to camp initially trying to stay down in the drainage, but being forced up to the trail again due to some bad sections.
The goal was the mouth of the creek, but scraped up legs were the result. The next time over we'll push through with the point man wielding a machete. Sunday, once we got to Kelly coming back, I thought of hiking up Kelly to the mouth which is about the same distance as hiking from the airstrip down; however, there were three vehicles parked at the trail head, so we fished down stream instead. The fishing was fine. Many native cuts were caught. I spent most of the day using the small three piece four weight with tiny Adams flies. We took turns, working on our casting. I now realize debarbing number 20 and smaller flies is not an easy thing to do.
Well, for one of us anyway. I did a quick drop of the LR and continued to the nearby Bitterroot to launch the boat and see what was going on on the river. "If I'm not back by eight, borrow a cell and call me." Simple enough.
Today in town it was in the nineties and smoke from local fires has filled the valley, complements of a healthy wind to complete the weather cocktail. The river was reasonably quiet with a few folks coming by drifting on black tubes. I paddled down stream, knowing I'd have to turnaround and paddle back up at some point to pick up the rascal. I found a nice section to portage and get rigged up. The wt got the call tonight. The rod is floppy. I started working a hopper along the bank and through a few riffles to no avail. It was a poor floater. I switched to a stimulator. It was maybe seven or so and I had to be back at eight. No action on the stimi. At this point, something had to happen. I started casting a large parachute adams into the above snag. Just above the lower branch, a large flash of bright colors emerged from the bottom and swallowed hard. It was a nice fight, but the rainbow was well hooked. After a quick photo, which I now see included garbage, I released the fish. The fish was powerful and quickly bolted back below its log home. I managed to catch the last half hour of practice too! Now, if this smoke would just clear. 
