and perhaps even more to the point since the reservation is hardly closed in a general sense to white man's entry or crossing, he trespassed on Indian rights. From that point on, any further logical conversation between the two will rapidly deteriorate. There are many different levels from which to view this paradox, and all of them deserve investigation.
The first question to ask is why, with 50 miles of riverbank on the east side, and 2,000 fish per mile, would anyone even want or need to fish on the Indian side. This itself is a complex and interesting question.
One answer is that 50 miles really isn't that much river. There are, for the Deschutes fly fisherman, three relatively distinct populations of trout, distinguished by the water in which they are caught and somewhat by the tactics used. Actually there are four, but the fourth is rare and limited and I'm still trying to figure that one out.
The first population which a fisherman new to the river will encounter if he simply transplants common tactics from other rivers is the fish holding in and below the riffles. This is "sweetwater" fishing, the open air casting into moving riffle water on the inside of turns and breaks, etc. Except for unusual times, he will probably be using nymphs, big, weighted, duck-your-head nymphs. If he is he will catch fish. If he isn't, he will most commonly have a nice day of casting dry flies, and feel lucky to catch one big fish all day. Unfortunately, there really isn't that much water of that type on the Deschutes. The
gradient is too steep, the canyon too narrow, and the flow variation too stable to create the bars and meanders common to other rivers, and the lower miles of the Deschutes itself.
The second population of fish he might stumble into is the squadrons of fish that gather in certain deep backeddies to sip on the gathered and trapped surface banquet. These fish often average slightly smaller, but still very respectable, are often mint bright, hot as a firecracker when struck, and usually VERY finicky about the flies to which they will rise. They are easily put down, and sometimes even the most consistent backeddies will be completely dead until the next hatch occurs. And inevitably the eddy is backed by a high bank of grasses and shrubs to snag off the minute flies from thready leaders. Tough. But fun.
The last population, and by far the most interesting one, is the fish that lie along the bank. Enough said about just where along the bank. Just along the bank. For years this was either one of the better kept secrets, or least known characteristics of Deschutes fish. Now the secret is mostly out, and that

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