Author Archives: Ryan Mangus

About Ryan Mangus

Born and raised in the Big Horn Basin of Wyoming, I am intensely proud of my home state. After spending a few years away at college (BYU '02), my bride and I returned to the Lovell area to make our home. We now fill our days following our five kids around to various school and sports activities, tending our small homestead, and trying to scratch out a living in the wilds of Wyoming.

Midwinter Lament

Traveling around the state of Wyoming is one of my favorite pastimes, as well as my job.

Well, not my full time job.

Just one of my various responsibilities with Custom Ag Solutions. Our company has a number of partnerships with government and educational institutions to provide risk management training to “beginning producers” or future farmers and ranchers. That means I frequently visit high schools around the country and present our materials and farm simulation game to vocational agriculture students attending there.

It’s a win/win, as the kids seem to love the game and I love getting out, meeting new people, and seeing new places.

Today I visited Star Valley HS in Afton, WY. Afton is surrounded by mountains and is very snowy today. I like to think our home is surrounded by mountains, and technically it is. But the mountains near Afton are close…and snowy.

I’m sitting in a hotel lobby as I write this and I’m looking out at nearly 20” of snow on a picnic table outside. While the snow adds a bit of beauty to the landscape, I’m very much over it. Like a 17th century sailor suffering from scurvy, I need greens…and citrus.

Probably won’t get citrus growing in Wyoming.

Can I at least have some greens?

Good Gear Makes Day On Ice More Productive and Comfortable

I’ve recently spent some time ice fishing one of our local reservoirs with my fishing buddy Nick. We’ve gone three times so far this season–there was one day with tons of success sandwiched by two days that were super slow. All three times out on the ice were fun, but as you can imagine, the day with more flags flying will be most memorable.

To maximize the ice fishing experience, there a few things I recommend taking with you for ultimate productivity and comfort. Obviously you can purchase as much as you want on fishing gear and still be successful. I fished for years with a hand auger and the same fishing poles and much of the same tackle I used fishing open water. The only difference was the clothes I wore.

I had a buddy in high school whose father was an avid ice fisherman that didn’t own an ice auger at all. He just took someone with an auger or he carried a spud bar, which he would use to chip out old, frozen over ice holes.

When we talk about maximizing productivity and enjoyment out on the ice, good equipment is imperative. Modern day technology and upgrades to your gear can level the playing field with the cold-blooded monsters beneath the ice.

First things first, when you’re standing (or sitting) on a large block of ice, personal comfort is paramount to having a good time. I recommend a solid pair of insulated boots, like the MuckBoots Artic Pros. These boots will keep your feet dry and toasty throughout the day. They’re easy to slip on and off, can be worn beneath the pant leg or with your pants tuck into them, depending on how deep the snow is.

Layering in the outdoors is extremely important when you’re trying to keep your buns warm while on the hardwater. I discovered ColdPruf’s Platinum series underwear this season and I’m glad I made the switch. The merino wool /polyester blend does a good job trapping air between the dual layers of fabric which keeps me warm and dry. Coldpruf also proves you don’t have to spend gobs of money to be comfortable.

Besides a good beanie and gloves, I never go on the ice without my a little Carhartt in my life. I’ve been a fan of Carhartt for years and have always been impressed with the quality of their gear. I know many guys have transitioned to synthetic shells, but I haven’t needed to switch, since the Carhartt’s always do the trick. I’m sure I look like a brown snuggly bear in my insulated work wear, but at least I’m warm and that’s all that matters to me.

I recommend a lined, or insulted bib, combined with a heavy quilted coat, rather than coveralls. Bibs give you a lot more freedom of movement and the ability to take off the upper layer on warm days. You don’t get that freedom with coveralls.

As far as gear goes, splashing a little cash can get you into more fish and will make your day much easier.

Nick introduced a new tool in our arsenal this season, the Humminbird ICE-55 flasher. Electronics are becoming more and more popular as technology improves and prices drop for things like sonar and underwater cameras. The Humminbird flasher lets us know what depth we’re fishing in and can alert us to passing or suspended fish beneath us. My favorite thing about is that it lets me know what depth my minnow is at, relative to the bottom, so I can set all my bait at whatever depth the the fish are at.

The last item I have to recommend is the Eskimo Quantum 40cc propane powered ice auger. Once you’ve used a propane auger, it’s hard to go back to using your old gas powered unit. In fact, my gas auger was given to me, in perfect working order mind you, by a gentleman whose fishing partner had purchased a propane auger.

Propane augers are cleaner, quieter, and easier to use. You don’t have to treat the fuel and when you run out of fuel, you need only unscrew the 16 oz propane bottle and replace it with a new one. I can’t say enough about how much I love Nick’s auger. I only hope he hasn’t seen me caressing it lovingly after drilling each hole.

Anyone can catch fish and fun is what you make of it.

Tough stuff. What Drives Us To Overcome Challenges?

I don’t know what it is that drives me.

I run 15-20 miles a week on the county roads around my home, but I can’t make it through a day of shopping in Billings. I go to a few stores with my wife and I’m beat before we get to Walmart. By the end of the day I’m offering to “watch” the car while she runs in to the last few stores.

And then comes hunting season.

For the last three years I’ve been flying solo when I shot each of my elk.

The first of those three, a mature cow, was the first and only time I ever considered walking away. Just up and leave her laying there in the trail. No one was around…I could probably make it to my truck and never see another soul. No one would know I shot her…and then I wouldn’t have to finish gutting her out.

I hadn’t even started packing yet and I was thinking about quitting!

But I didn’t do that.

I cowboy’d up, got her quartered, and headed up the trail with the first load. Not too bad. It was about 1 mile uphill to the trailhead. It was tough, but I made it. So, I went back for load two.

Tougher, but still doable. I estimate I had 75 pounds of meat on my back. My legs were aching, but I made it.

The last load took place well after dark. I had a flashlight and I was alone and covered with blood. My backpack was covered with blood.

Did I mention I had a flashlight? One flashlight.

In the dark.

In the Big Horn National Forest.

In October.

I don’t claim to be an intelligent man, but even I knew what a poor decision it was to be on that trail that night.

But something drove me to make that last trek down the hill to get my last load of meat.

And it was going to be my last load. I was determined to fit every last bit of meat onto my pack frame.

I can only guess the last load was nearly 100 pounds. I really don’t know, but I had to heave the pack onto a nearby boulder and crouch down to try to get it on my back. Standing up, the load was too heavy and I couldn’t lift the straps high enough to get them onto my shoulders.

Once that was accomplished, it was just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other until I made it up the hill.

Step by plodding step I climbed that hill until I reached the trailhead…just as our local Search and Rescue personnel showed up.

I’m not even joking.

They showed up AFTER all the meat was packed out!! Gee, thanks guys.

I harvested this year’s elk in nearly an identical situation. I shot my elk, a cow, only a few miles from where I had the earlier experience. I had left my vehicle just over a mile away, parked on the side of a Forest Service road.

I wasn’t supposed to shoot an elk that afternoon. I had been hunting with my brother Barry all week. We both had “any elk” permits, which generally means “hold out for a bull as long as possible, but shoot a cow if you can’t find a bull.” We both had passed on cows earlier in the week. This is a coveted tag and we didn’t want to “waste” it by shooting a cow too early.

I like to think of myself as a trophy hunter, but in reality, I’ve never shot what most hunters would call a true trophy. I’m really up there for the meat. Would I like to have nice rack to hang on the wall? A cool tailgate photo with me holding up my trophy buck or bull? Heck yeah! But ultimately, I want to put meat in my freezer and so, I nearly always end up shooting a fat doe or big cow.

So that day, Barry and I hunted together in the morning, but he had to head home for his son’s HS football game later that evening. My plan was to walk down to a certain meadow, just to take a look around and then head home. I didn’t expect to see anything–and I didn’t. At least not at first.

When I arrived at the meadow, there was nothing there, so I took a break underneath a tree. It was mid-afternoon and the weather was unseasonably warm. I soon got sleepy and dozed off. When I woke up some time later, I noticed clouds had rolled in over Medicine Mountain and it looked like a storm was heading our way.

“But I’m not far from my truck. And it’s still really warm,” I thought to myself.

I sat there another 45 minutes.

And then, from out of the trees to my right, not 30 yards away, a cow and calf elk stepped out into the clearing. The cow spotted me immediately. I wasn’t hidden at all. She looked at me and I looked at her, both of us motionless, wondering what to do. I couldn’t raise my gun or I would spook her and she didn’t know whether I was something to be feared or just part of the landscape.

In the end, she decided I wasn’t anything to be worried about. She walked right past me and never game me another thought. I watched her for some time trying to decide whether to shoot or not. It was late, and if I shot her, I would have a lot of work ahead of me to get her packed out. A storm was rolling in and I would be working in the dark soon.

In the end, I decided to shoot.

I had taken an entire week off work, I had already passed on one cow, and this was an easy shot at a mature elk. If I didn’t shoot right then, I would have to take more time off work, make more trips to the mountain, and there was no guarantee I would get another chance.

It felt like a gift, so I took her.

She dropped with one shot from my .270, and then the real work began.

I got her cut up before the storm hit. I boned out the meat so I wouldn’t have to carry any extra weight and packed everything into game bags. Rather than pack out one load at a time, I decided to pack the four bags a short distance, one at a time. My goal was to get the bags all across Porcupine Creek while there was still light, so I wouldn’t have to cross it again in the dark.

I didn’t have a pack frame with me—it was in the truck—so I decided to carry my gun and hunting pack, and one load of meat, back to the truck to retrieve the meat hauler pack. By this time a light rain had started and wouldn’t let up again that night.

From the creek I could almost see the road, so when I got to the truck, I decided to leave it running, with its lights on. That way I would have the headlights to guide me during what I hoped would just be two more trips.

I considered just heading home and coming back the next day to retrieve the remaining loads of meat. The meat would certainly be fine, but I wasn’t sure how much snow (the rain had turned to snow by now) we would get and I didn’t want to drive 50 miles each way to wade through an uncertain amount of snow to pack out a heavy load.

I decided to just get everything done that night and it ended up being one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. By the time I reached the truck for the last time, I was soaked to the skin and absolutely beat. I was Andy Dufresne standing outside Shawshank after crawling 500 yards through a sewer pipe.

And I’ve rarely felt happier.

So what is it that drives me? Or you? Or any number of people that battle unspeakable challenges on a daily basis? Challenges that I can’t even fathom.

I’m not sharing these stories to show how tough I am or that I have discovered the secret to unlimited will power.

Remember, I’m the guy who can’t make it through a day of shopping.

I recount these experiences because I’m fascinated by mental toughness and how and why we choose to persevere and when to throw in the towel.

I can’t begin to know what goes on in yours or anyone’s mind. I know there are very real illnesses of the mind that prevent many people from making rational decisions. But if you have the ability to make sound decisions and do hard things, know that you are tougher than you can possibly imagine.

Your internal reservoir of will power has much more in reserve than you think.

Grit it out.

Don’t give up.

You’re stronger than you think.

Get Out On The Ice To Beat Cabin Fever!

Christmastime in Wyoming is a magical time that usually results in gifts given, tons of food eaten, and…cabin fever.

We usually combat this malady by trying to take advantage of the last remaining days of pheasant season. Stomping around in shin-deep snow and 5°F temperatures is about as fun as it gets, but sometimes you’ve got to mix it up a little and try something new.

When I was attending college in Utah (Go Cougs!), I made frequent trips to Strawberry Reservoir, which lies along US-40 between Heber City and Duchesne, UT. Ice fishing at Strawberry was some of the most exciting fishing I’ve ever had the pleasure to be part of.

The thing that makes ice fishing so exciting for me is the fact that you never know what’s going to come up through the ice. A lunker may be landed as easily as a minnow and some fish that are relatively small, might fight like a steelhead. Add to that the stress of not knowing if your line is going to hold the 23” rainbow that gobbled your lure, and you’ve got a tense couple of minutes. Multiply those few minutes several times during a typical day at Strawberry, and you’ll know why I’m so fond of the sport.

Fishing hardwater is addicting and once you’ve experienced a great day on the ice, it’s hard to give it up. Like most hobbies though, it’s easy to spend yourself out of house and home. I’d be willing to bet Dave Ramsey and his debt advisors spend the majority of their time counseling broke ice fishermen who went bankrupt buying the latest rods, reels, augers, ice huts, and tip ups on the market.

More important than buying the latest fishing gear, good boots and clothing are perhaps the most important assets when spending the day on ice. I once took my brother in law ice fishing and he still curses me, over a decade later, when I mention that day. He, the proud cowboy, had a wretched day for the simple reason that he wore leather cowboy boots and blue jeans in sub-zero weather. It wouldn’t have mattered if he caught a dozen 10 pound trout, he would have still been miserable.

Experienced ice anglers know that nearly any type of weather is possible in a Wyoming winter and prepare accordingly. In contrast to the fishing trip with my brother in law, one of my favorite ice fishing memories took place on Sunshine Reservoir, near Meeteetse, on a sunny January day long ago. The ice on the reservoir had apparently frozen very quickly, without any wind or snow, because it looked, quite literally like a pane of glass.

It was exactly 4” thick and clear as could be. We could actually see fish swimming beneath the ice as we fished. The fishing and weather were great that day as all landed several nice trout and the temps must have reached the upper 30s and maybe into the 40s. By midafternoon we had removed jackets and were wearing only our short sleeved shirts.

Of course, there were two downsides to those conditions: without snow on the ice it was slippery as could be, which led to several crashes throughout the day. Also, with the extremely thin ice and unseasonably warm temperatures, no two anglers could ever gather together to admire each other’s fish. The first time we attempted to stand near each other the ice started to crack beneath our feet, forcing us to keep our distance all day!

Over the last several years, I haven’t ice fished as much. Since we returned to Wyoming, my winters have been spent chasing big game and deer, more than fishing. The bug returned on a recent adventure to Yellowtail Reservoir east of Lovell. Invited by fishing addict friend, we braved the cold and wind for a day on the ice.

Part of the reason I wanted to get out was to test out my new (to me) ice auger. A neighbor friend recently gave it to me on the condition I take my boys out fishing. Apparently his fishing partner had upgraded to a new propane-fueled auger, freeing him to gift his older gas-powered auger to me.

Having spent years hand drilling my ice holes, using a powered auger is a complete game changer. I spent the first hour or so just drilling holes. Unfortunately, that was all the action I saw that day. I never got a bite, despite 5 tip ups and a jigging pole. My fishing partner, Nick, landed a nice sauger, but that was it for our crew.

Despite our lack of success, I am once again, off the wagon. I can hardly wait to get back on the ice and try it again. The only question is whether I should call Dave Ramsey now, or after I’ve gone completely broke!

It’s cold!!

December in Wyoming is an amazing time to be out and about, but you better be ready for it when you leave the house. This morning I woke to -4F outside and the last thing I wanted to do was leave our cozy cottage.

Nevertheless, things need to get done. Pets need fed, chickens need watered, eggs need gathered and bacon needs brought home, so to speak.

So out the door I went. But not before I threw on my Carhartt coat, insulated Danner boots, and my insulated work gloves.

Then I then I told the kids to get all the chores (listed above) done as I headed out the door to spend the day in the warmth of my office. Now if I have to go outside for something important like hunting pheasants or ice fishing, I’m all in.

But working out in this stuff?

You’d have to be nuts!

Two nuts working in snowy Wyoming!

Merry Christmas!

Big Horn Mountain Fishing

For local outdoorsmen who like to catch monster trout on the Big Horn Mountains, there are realistically only two options I know of: the North Tongue River near Bear Lodge and Devil’s Canyon. Either option features medium-sized creeks, with world class scenery, abundant wildlife, and plentiful opportunities to catch 20+” wild trout.

Typical view along the North Tongue

The North Tongue runs adjacent to Highway 14-A for about five miles just west of Burgess Junction, where 14-A, coming from Lovell, meets Highway 14 and runs to either Sheridan or down Shell Canyon to Greybull. Along the highway, from the confluence of Hideout Creek and the North Tongue, east to Bull Creek, the Wyoming Game and Fish Department has designated the stream as “catch and release” for cutthroat trout and restricted the area to artificial flies and lures only.

Those regulations, combined, have allowed the cutts in that section to thrive in the long, deep holes of the willow-laden North Tongue, often reaching sizes of 18” or more. The highway access means these trout have seen their share of fishermen, so great care and perfect presentation is often needed to hook a monster. Anglers must also be on the lookout for the many moose who bed down in the cool and towering brush along the stream. It is not uncommon to round a bend in the stream and come face to face with Momma Moose toting Junior by her side. Such an encounter has been known to require a change of underpants for the more jumpy fishermen on the stream.

Keep an eye out for Momma Moose!

The North Tongue is justly considered one of the jewels of the Big Horn Range. The only drawback to planning a trip to the stream is the chance you may run into other anglers fishing ahead of you. Not big enough for combat angling, your best option those mornings when you pushed snooze one too many times and got to the creek after the more ambitious anglers, is to give them room and search for another stretch of creek they haven’t been to. Be neighborly and don’t crowd someone else.

This isn’t Utah after all!

Devil’s Canyon

For those searching to truly get away from it all, Devil’s Canyon may be the ticket for you. If the North Tongue is one of the jewels of the Big Horns, Devil’s Canyon is the buried treasure hidden amid the rugged foothills of the western slopes of the range. To all but a few experienced and adventurous locals, the various trails into the canyon are carefully masked by desert junipers, scrub cedar, and the bountiful rabbit brush infesting the area.

There is a road of sorts into the canyon, but access is controlled by a ranch family who restrict most from passing through. For those without a key, there are only two ways in: by boat or shoe leather. Launching from nearby Horseshoe Bend Marina outside Lovell, WY, boaters can access the entrance to Devil’s Canyon by traveling up Big Horn Canyon.

Devil’s Canyon Overlook

Upon reaching Devil’s Canyon, one must continue by boat up the canyon until you reach the stream bed. There are game trails along the side hills of the canyon, but the tangled brush and vegetation make walking to and from the creek difficult. Most visitors traverse the canyon by walking along and through the stream.

Thick vegetation makes it hard to walk anywhere but in the stream

If access to a boat is not possible, there are a number of trails that drop into the canyon and allow access by foot. These trails are not for the faint of heart, with names such as Spider Leg, Hole in the Wall, and Burnt Trail, each trip into the canyon is an adventure with every possibility for mishap. At least two trails require visitors to lower themselves down in certain spots using lengths of cords, cables, or ropes that previous visitors have generously installed. Whether you trust their knot tying skills and the condition of the ropes, is up to you. Plan at least an hour hike to arrive stream side, and that’s after the long, rough drive to the trailhead via 4×4.

Dropping into the canyon from trailhead

Once fishermen arrive safely at the creek, the fun finally begins. If you’re skilled at casting your rod and the fishing is good, 50 or more fish per day is not an unusual result. Of course, as with fishing on the North Tongue, the majority of anglers who fish Devil’s Canyon practice catch and release–not by regulation or ethics, but because they don’t wish to haul any more weight than necessary on the gut-wrenching hike out.

The contrasting colors add to the beauty of Devil’s Canyon

While fishing the canyon, it is impossible not to stop frequently just to marvel at the canyon walls and sheer beauty of the landscape. The green vegetation along the stream contrasts perfectly with the red, pink, and white limestone of the canyon, which in turn, contrasts with the narrow sliver of blue sky, seen in the gap between the canyon walls above. Only the hand of God could create such a wondrous playground.

Fishing the stream is challenging; overhanging brush collects lures and flies as the price of passage, much like the ferryman of Hades collected coins from those hoping to cross the river Styx. Smart fishermen will also keep a sharp eye out for rattlers while picking their way over boulders and through brush along the creek. Bear sign is commonly found along the stream in the canyon, as hungry bruins frequently travel the creek in search of berries and other food.

A number of years ago, a friend was surprised to hear the bawling of a bear cub nearby as he fished the stream. Unable to identify the source of the sound, he continued to fish. He soon snagged his lure in an overhanging tree on the far side of the creek. As he stretch up to retrieve his lure, he finally noticed the bawling cub, high in the tree, directly above him. Another lure sacrificed to the ferryman of Hades.

Not that these complications aren’t worth it. Enormous brown trout have made Devil’s Canyon their home for generations. Spawning lunkers migrate upstream from Big Horn Lake, finding safety in the deep holes of the canyon stream. A number of anglers over the years have landed 10 -12 pound trout in the canyon, and 25+” browns are not uncommon. Anglers who crack the code to landing these monsters can testify of their existence and rumors abound of even bigger ones that got away.

One that didn’t get away

Part of the beauty of the canyon is the isolation from civilization. Most of this canyon appears today just as it looked 100, 200, or 500 years ago. There are no private lodges, established trails, or safety railing along the stream. When you enter the canyon, you’re on your own. Some of the less popular trails might go weeks between human visitors. Even the more popular trails rarely see fisherman more than once a week.

Word of mouth travels fast in nearby communities, and anglers planning a visit to the canyon, upon hearing that someone else recently used a certain trail, more often than not will use a different trail so as not to waste time on an area that’s “fished out.”

Not that the canyon will ever be fished out. Nearly all Big Horn Mountain streams, while not well known among most avid fisherman, are a tremendous natural resource and hold far more trout than one can imagine. What the fish lack in size, they make up for in numbers and provide hours of fun for kids and adults alike, all trying to land the big one. For those who know the mountain and its secrets, there will always be a chance to catch just such a monster.

The trick is getting someone to take you there. Don’t be surprised to find locals clam up when an outsider asks for directions to “The Canyon.” Or you may be directed to pass over Giffy Butte, through Nunya Canyon, and just past the Screw U Ranch to get there.

Regardless of how you get there, if and when you do finally reach the stream, know that you’re on sacred ground and treat it with the respect it deserves.