Green River — Dutch John, Utah

THE LANDSCAPE makes a stark impression as we arrive from a long drive through northwestern Colorado. State Route 318 is a lonely road, where first you lose the radio signal, then, entering Utah, the pavement, and last, as you twist on muddy trails through fields of natural gas pipelines, bone-dry washes, and Cretaceous Dakota formations, you lose your sense of direction.We eventually find Highway 191, turn south, and catch our first glimpse of the Uintah Mountains, covered in dark, green blankets of lodgepole, pinyon, and ponderosa pine.

It is hard not to be moved by the beauty that stands before us, out here in the middle of nowhere.The landscape is jagged contrasts of red sandstone desert, juniper-lined hills, and the Flaming Gorge Reservoir, a vast expanse of sapphire water. Considering where we had been, and where we thought we were going, we feel as if we have stumbled upon a misplaced oasis.

We drive down to the base of the 500-foot Flaming Gorge Dam to sneak a peek at the Green River. The clear water is a welcome sight. For Colorado fishermen, May is the cruelest month, when the mountains purge snow pack, turning freestones chocolate brown, making wading an adventure only for the brave and obsessed, and fishing utterly hopeless.

We make out dozens of fish in the shallows, flashing their sides like dirty metal as they feed. Hundreds and hundreds of cliff swallows eat insects back and forth across the water. The late-afternoon light gathers on the far wall of Red Canyon, then spreads back over the surface of the river like a fire flickering out.

It is becoming clearer why Denny Breer sunk his tent stakes by the Green nearly 15 years ago.

“I’ve seen and fished most of the rivers from here to Alaska” he had once told us. “And I tell the people I fish with, ‘If you know of a prettier place with better fish than the Green, tell me about it, send a picture, and I’ll go.’ As of this day, I haven’t had any responses.”

WE GET back on 191 and head north for the Wyoming State line. Earlier in the year, Denny suggested we stay at the Spring Creek Ranch near Minnie’s Gap.We make a right turn onto a long, dirt driveway, just past Clay Basin Road, and rumble toward the main house and guest quarters. We are met by a greeting party of bell-collared goats, picking at spring grass under the wooden porch.

Spring Creek Ranch lies amidst the low-rising fields of bunchgrass and tumbleweed in southwestern Wyoming, where eroded gullies and breaks give way to miles of open rangeland and the northern high plains. The ranch encompasses 560 deeded acres with a controlling access to another 48,000 acres (75 square miles) of open-to-grazing federal land. A converted bunkhouse features spot-clean rooms named after legendary cowboys, two restrooms with showers, a single payphone, and nothing else but unspoiled views.

Our hosts cook eggs, hash browns, and pancakes to order every morning at seven. We tell them we are here to fish with Denny Breer. “I think the world of Dennis and his wife Grace,” says the woman. “He’s one of the best, and one of the kindest fishermen I know.”

THE NEXT MORNING we arrive in Dutch John to watch Denny send out his fleet. He has a cadre of seasonal guides working for his business,Trout Creek Flies, most with at least 10 years of experience on the Green. He greets his guides every morning with a smile, then briefs them on river conditions, weather, and the skill level of their clients.

We decide to head for the river after the chaos subsides, but there is one complicating factor. Over the weekend, Denny burned out the clutch on his old, white Suburban, after rolling mile 300,000 on the odometer, and he is waiting for a part to be driven in from Vernal. So we hook his drift boat to the 2-inch ball hitch on our truck and head for the river. Denny suggests a crack at the A section.

He knows everyone at the boat ramp, including guides, long-time fishermen, and Forest Service officials. As we slide into our waders, he dons a pair of shin-high Wellington rubber boots, then climbs into the dory and has one of us turn the craft into the current where he can take control with the oars.

We never ask, but it seems Denny has a goal of having his anglers laughing within the first half-mile. We start casting large Royal Trudes into a series of giant eddies, and soon hear an odd kissing noise coming from the center of the boat. It is Denny, puckering like a fish, calling or “salting” his little friends.

“Here fishy, fishy, fishy. Here, fishy, fishy, fishy,” he calls.

Denny likes to encourage the trout to eat at the start of each day. When “playing nice” with the Green River’s trout does not work, he turns to humiliation, which usually gets the job done.

Denny’s favorite trout insult: “Your mama’s a carp, and your daddy’s a sucker.”

ON THE WATER , it is not hard to sense that Denny is a respected figure among local rivermen. He explains that Dutch John is a close-knit community, primarily because Daggett County, which encompasses the Flaming Gorge region, is home to only 700 or so full time residents. They depend on each other during the winter for transportation and emergencies, and in the summer when “bootlegger” fishing guides and an onslaught of 1.5 million tourists pass through the area.

They also have had to become allies in the face of threats to this remarkable fishery. Endangered fish studies by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and the Bureau of Reclamation (who originally dammed the river) have dramatically altered flow regimes from the dam in an effort to recreate “historic river flows,” and in hopes of reestablishing habitat for Colorado River pikeminnows, razorback suckers, bonytail chubs, and humpback chubs. Although the new flows as yet have not had a dramatic negative impact on the trout fishery, they have not been a panacea for the endangered species either.

“Many of these endangered species are very tough and beautiful fish, but they’re also highly migratory. All the dams have made it hard for these guys to survive. I’m not sure if we can bring them back or not, but I do know if we keep playing with the flows, we could hurt the trout fishery.”

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