Casting Wide: Woman-Led Fly Fishing in Utah

“If you’re doing it right, the fish are an afterthought.”
This is not what I expected to hear when I spent the day fly fishing with local guide, outfitter and Wasatch Women’s Fly Fishing Club founder, Rebeca Reyes Granillo. But our day bucked my preconceptions about fly fishing—all for the better.
Two days past the summer solstice, dawn light was already glowing when I parked next to the Middle Provo River at 5:30 a.m. to meet up with Rebeca and a handful of new angler-women for an introduction to fly fishing course. Chirping birds, buzzing insects and the sweet, lucid smell of riparian air eased my clutch on a coffee thermos. I felt the jitters showing up for a new-to-me activity, but Rebeca’s warmth and easy laughter had us all at ease by the time we tried wading boots for size. It felt clear that being new here is a good thing.

A Fresh Start Through Fly Fishing
Rebeca remembers being new herself. She came to fly fishing amid a battle with PTSD.
"I wanted to dive into something that would just consume my brain, which meant it had to be 100% new.”
A career change in her early twenties led her to a job at a fly fishing shop, introduced by a friend. At the time, she had no notion that fly fishing would eventually lead her to start her own guiding company, Immerse Fly Fishing, and become a leader in Utah fly fishing.

Granillo teaching on the Middle Provo River.

Granillo catches a fish on the Middle Provo River.

Mascari and Haslem head out for an evening session of fly fishing.
Rebeca grew up in urban Salt Lake, but her parents jumped at any opportunity to hike in the Wasatch. They constantly sought new trails—she had been all over the mountain range by the time she started fishing. Fishing, though, added a new element to the mountains.
“I grew up hiking the Wasatch Front,” Rebeca said. “Fishing felt the same, but instead of just dipping in the water, I could fish it and engage with the place in a different way. I went to the same places I went with my parents, but now with a different perspective.”
Based in Salt Lake City and Park City, Rebeca guides the streams, creeks, lakes and rivers surrounding Utah’s metropolitan hub. She founded the Wasatch Women’s Fly Fishing Club and constantly seeks opportunities to bring more people, particularly women, into fly fishing. She volunteers with programs teaching foster kids and women fighting breast cancer how to fly fish. She teaches comprehensive courses and guides half- and full-day trips with her company.

Peace on the Provo River
Donning chest-high wader bibs, we head for a sweeping bend in the river, stopping to watch a moose and her two calves saunter through a field shining in a thousand shades of early summer green. We reach a long bend where the current slows—perfect for Rebeca to teach some newbies how to cast. Within minutes, she has us proficient enough to get our flies to our targets. Rebeca sends us each off to our own section of the river and rotates between us all, offering cues to guide our casting and tuning us into where the fish ought to be.
As the sun rises higher over the Uintas to the east, cliffs hanging over the river glow orange, then yellow, until daylight is clearly here to stay. Carrie hooks a fish first—a little rainbow trout. Then I’m surprised by the thrill of a pull on my line. I jerk my rod upward, but the fish doesn’t yield to my beginner’s technique. I keep casting.
Meditative moments, fully engulfed in casting, punctuate what is otherwise a social outing—we chat on the bank, holler for each other’s catches and point out eagles cruising by on warming updrafts. Before long, we break so folks can get to work, and Rebeca can guide another trip.

Mascari celebrates the success of her friends helping each other across the river.

Haslem casting along the Provo River.
“Fly fishing is a team sport.”
A western sun is flirting with the Wasatch ridgelines, daylight fading, when I reconvene with Rebeca for an evening with a couple of girls from the Wasatch Women’s Fly Fishing Club. Free after a Monday of work meetings, laughter erupts like pressure from a valve in the parking lot. Camaraderie is apparent; so is Rebeca’s role as the leader of this group, as they jokingly call her Mom.
“Mooom! What fly should I tie on?” “Mooom! What snacks do you have?”
Rebeca founded the Wasatch Women’s Fly Fishing Club in her first couple years of fishing. Encouragement from the group pushed her to start guiding. When the club was new, there wasn't a strong community of fly fishing women like there is now. Rebeca would go out with a handful of women; some would know how to fish, and others were pretty new.
We head to the riverbank, Rebeca's snacks in tow, and spread out along another section of the Provo River. Everyone fishes. We come together when the fish stop biting to observe the water, watch the bugs and strategize which flies and casting methods will entice fish to our hooks. I realize that a day of fly fishing mimics the cast, float and recast: we spread out, wait and wish on fish, then come back together to reset. Despite what you’ll see in the movies, fly fishing is a team sport. Picking apart the patterns and puzzle-solving is best done with a friend, or a few.

Boots and waders after a fishing session.

Haslem gears up for an evening session of fly fishing.

Granillo discusses various flies while teaching.
One of Rebeca’s favorite games is “baseball.” Players pass a fly fishing rig around, all using the same setup, with three casts to catch a fish. It's competitive and collaborative—cheering each other on, but betting on yourself to bring in a fish first. The gamification of fly fishing contrasts with how fly fishing is typically portrayed: solitary, meditative, serious and alone. Of course fishing can be that, it just doesn't have to be.
As Rebeca says, "In fishing, every rule is meant to be broken."
Utah: A fly fishing paradise
The Provo River is a 365-day-a-year fishery. So is Utah. The rivers don't freeze, but there's a misconception that there's no fishing to do in the winter, Rebeca shared. That's just one of the things that makes Utah fly fishing great.
Utah has a vast range of fish species—tiger muskie, northern pike, roundtail, catfish—not just trout. Within two hours of Salt Lake, in any direction, there are different types of landscapes geologically, topographically, and in terms of waterway, making the state a fly fishing haven.
Beautiful moments make fly fishing famous—casts into the sunset, meditative moments alone focused on an ever-flowing river, connection with something real and wild. But, as I learned with Rebeca, there’s so much more to fishing than the still shots. Fishing is connection with friends, new and old, bonding over a riverbank, laughter braided with the river’s flow. Catching friendships like fish.

Fly Fishing the Uinta Mountains
The Uinta Mountains are one of Utah’s top fly fishing destinations. Learn where to go and how to land that trophy trout, then plan your own fly fishing getaway.