Idaho isn't short on breathtaking places to explore, but for many anglers and adventurers, the Sawtooth Mountains sit at the top of the list. Just minutes from the iconic mountain range lies the town of Stanley, and just beyond it flows the Upper Salmon River. Home to native Westslope cutthroat trout and bull trout, the river also supports Chinook salmon, sockeye salmon, and steelhead. Pair that with natural hot springs, dramatic scenery, and the fact that it's the longest undammed river in the contiguous United States, and it's easy to see why the Salmon is a bucket-list destination.

Living in Southeast Idaho, I've made the trip to Stanley more than a few times to hike, attend the annual Sawtooth Salmon Festival, and sneak in some fishing whenever I could. So when the Maxxon crew invited me out for a couple days on the Salmon, I didn't hesitate. I packed my favorite terrestrial boxes, a few streamers in hopes of finding a migrating bull trout, and hit the road.

Joining me was my good friend Nate, who, despite being only 21 years old, is the guy who first taught me how to fly fish. Getting to spend the week on the water together made the trip even better.

We met the Maxxon and Catcher Craft crew in Stanley around 10 a.m. The cabin was buzzing with boats being loaded, rods getting rigged, and fly boxes spread across every available surface. After a few introductions, the team turned us loose to rig whatever setups we wanted. I grabbed an Aurelius 9-foot 6wt paired with an SDX reel, while Nate went with a Double XX 10-foot 5wt and an SDP reel.

Late June meant dry fly season was in full swing. With warm weather and bluebird skies in the forecast, most of us rigged dry-dropper setups with salmonflies and golden stones up top and stonefly nymphs or flashy perdigons patterns below.

By the time we'd chosen a section to float, it was already pushing 2 p.m. A late start, but nobody cared. We were finally on the river.

The conditions couldn't have looked much better. Clear water, healthy flows, caddis dancing over the riffles, golden stones and salmonflies fluttering along the banks, and plenty of stonefly nymphs hiding beneath the rocks. Before we even pushed off, it felt like we were in for a memorable trip.

Nate took the oars as we pushed into the first stretch of shallow, boulder-filled water. My plan was simple: fish every seam, every pocket behind a rock, and every hint of deeper water. Five minutes into the float, my chubby chernobyl disappeared behind a midstream boulder. I lifted the rod, and an eager rainbow no bigger than eleven inches tore off downstream. It wasn't a trophy by any means, but it broke the ice and gave us confidence that we were on the right program.

The float through Stanley and into the canyon only got better. The Sawtooths filled the skyline while willing rainbows ate both dries and nymphs. Before long, we pulled over at a wide, deep piece of water with plenty of rocky structure below. 

I switched to my Salish rod and swung a heavy white minnow pattern through the heart of the run. Towards the end of the swing, a long, olive-colored fish lunged from the depths and swiped hard at the fly but failed to stick. We only caught a glimpse before it disappeared, but it looked every bit like the bull trout we'd been hoping to find.

Below that run, the river deepened and the rainbows gradually gave way to more Westslope cutthroat. As the afternoon heat settled in, the fishing slowed, but the fish we did find were exactly what we'd come for.

Later, we reached a cold tributary spilling into the Salmon, creating a long, deep holding run that looked too good to pass up. We beached the raft, fished it thoroughly, and came up empty. Figuring we'd given it a fair shot, we took a break for lunch along the bank.

As soon as Nate finished eating, he wandered back for one more look.

Within minutes, he was tight with a fish.

From the way the fish hugged the bottom, we knew it wasn't another cutthroat. Moments later, a beautiful juvenile bull trout slid into the net as the media crew gathered around to capture the moment before it was carefully released back toward the cold tributary. For me, that was the highlight of the trip. Watching one of my closest friends connect with such a special native fish is a moment I'll remember for a long time.

The rest of the float delivered more healthy Westslope cutthroat, plenty of laughs, and a chance to get to know the Maxxon crew better. That evening ended the way every good fishing day should: homemade dinner, s'mores around the fire, and stories shared long after the sun disappeared behind the Sawtooths.

I only had two days on the river before heading home, but the rest of the crew kept the adventure rolling. They floated new sections of the Salmon, hiked packrafts into alpine lakes, and checked even more species off the list.

The crew and I caught plenty of fish throughout the trip, but the memories that stick are the ones between the casts: floating through the rugged canyon, sharing laughs with new friends, and watching a healthy bull trout slip back into the current. The Upper Salmon is a special place, and two days on it only made me want to come back for more. 

A Quick Note on Bull Trout 

Bull trout are listed as threatened under the Endangered Species Act and rely on the coldest, cleanest water in the West, making them an important indicator of healthy rivers.

If you're fortunate enough to catch one, keep it in the water as much as possible, minimize handling, and release it quickly. Regulations vary by state and waterbody, so always check local rules before targeting bull trout. Using barbless single-hook flies helps reduce handling time and gives these incredible native fish the best chance of survival.