Notes and Observations:

• Arrival Water Temp: ~44degrees at 10:52am
• Started Fishing a #8 SMB
• Water Temp at 12:28pm: ~47degrees
• Minimal or No Hatching Mayflies
• Fished the SMB all Day, Aggressive Strikes from Faster Water
• Landed a Brook, Brown and Rainbow
• Fished a New Stretch of Creek

After landing George the day before this was the icing on the cake, fishing streamers to aggressively feeding spring trout. Watched the water temps climb up into the BWO range (48-52) but didn’t see many emerge and the trout wern’t rising. The rocks showed large numbers of both Baetis nymphs but also Ephemerella Subvaria however most were immature and still needed time before they would be ready to hatch. I was content tossing the streamer and watching trout dart, slam and chase down my fly at every turn. Many missed fish due to the slightest amount of slack line when my fly was cast at a new spot, first cast inevitably led to a strike and despite anticipating that strike a lot of trout managed to hit and spit but quite a few got stuck. It was a good day fishing in minimal wind conditions with a very respectable air temp in the upper 60′s/low 70′s at the height of the day. Low point of the day… someone put their rod in my car then I rolled my back window down accidentally, then I rolled it back up and heard a crunch. Bummer. Down one rod.

Slide Show

Woke to windy conditions, a good predicted air temp and the possibility of BWO’s. Met up with my friend Heath and we hit a creek I’ve been visiting for four years now. We pulled up to the water with no idea what the day was to hold. When I began fly fishing for trout in the Driftless Area ~4 years ago now I fished a creek that was off the beaten path, ignorant I fished it in the height of the summer fighting the weeds, the forest, the heat and the bugs, all of it. I hiked up the creek fishing a #16 BWO dry fly not really knowing what I was doing. I came to a hole, I made a long cast and out came a trout that perpetuated a four year search that was concluded on the 10th. At the time he hit my dry fly so hard it startled me and I missed the hookset. Moments later after I had collected myself I was preparing to make another cast to that fish when a dog comes out of nowhere and swims right through the hole spooking the trout and killing any chance I had of catching that trout.

I first wrote about George in March of the next year, when a 20+inch brown nails your dry fly you tend not to forget it. I never forgot about that trout. I went back several times to attempt catching him, same hole, same feeding lane, same fish. I brought my friend and fishing partner Heath with me and we spent hours attempting to catch this trout, we studied his hole, his habits and the creek where he lives. I detailed this in the post where I outlined the difficulties associated with catching this brown, small creek, tight deep hole with a log running directly across the main seam making an upstream cast and a long deep drift virtually impossible. A year goes by and I still go the creek looking for this trout, another year goes by and I still hadn’t been able to catch him. ~2 years ago he disappeared. We went back time and time again to see no signs of the monster we knew lived there. We figured he moved on, died or was caught and was hanging on someone wall. Last year a rain event opened the hole up by moving the log that crossed the hole, by this time I’d been referring to trout over 20inches as a George. I had accepted that he was gone but everytime I visited that creek I referred to that hole as George’s hole.

Forward to March 10th, 2012. We pull up to a normal day with normal expectations, hoping to run into a few bugs, hoping to land a couple trout and avoid the wind that the rest of the angling population would be struggling with. The wind was avoided for the most part and we hiked the creek spying brown trout in large numbers everywhere, we both fished a small #18 PT that Heath had tied and which had been crushing trout on every other outing we’d been on in the last couple months. Just another typically day until we got upstream closer to George’s hole. Believing that George was long gone I offered the hole to Heath as I wanted to fish the hole directly downstream first. I pulled a couple small trout out and we moved upstream, with no log to hamper a drift Heath got in position and began casting line topped with his #18 PT. We heard a crash in the distance, we both stopped. It sounded like a tree had just fallen over. Heath on the opposite bank closest to the noise looked up to see a Cougar leaving the scene, fleeing up the bluff. We both stood a bit stunned, glad he ran up the bluff and away from us. Heath proceeded to look back at the hole when he stopped dead in his tracks, George was sitting in the belly of the hole. I chased to the other side of the creek, looked down and there was the trout that I had stalked for two years, believed was gone and had become a legend in my mind sitting there with no log to hamper the needed drift. We were both shaking, we had to stop for a minute. We evaluated the situation and got comfortable, we wern’t going anywhere until this trout spooked out or came to hand.

He was holding far up in the head over 4 feet deep, maybe 5. The fast current combined with the needed angle on the cast was going to be a challenge. Do you cast a super heavy fly to get it to him and risk spooking him out? We started with a small nymph but it quickly became apparent that more weight was needed to get the fly in front of this trouts face in the allotted distance/time the fly had to drift. We eventually settled on a #8 Hairball with an additional splitshot and Heath began casting, each time attempting to get the best possible drift without spooking him out or the rest of the trout in the hole. Heath proceeded to make cast after cast but each time his fly would either get stuck on a rock and we were forced to risk spooking him by breaking the line or it would go over his head and end up in the tail of the pool. We lost a handful of flies snagging them on the bottom and yet he didn’t spook. At one point during this hour long ordeal the tippet of Heath’s leader must have brushed against his backside as he moved from his feeding lane to another location, our anxiety grew with each cast. When would he spook, would he eat? Both of us were content to sit until he came to hand or disappeared, yet he continued to sit on the bottom looking like a shark amongst minnows. After 45 minutes I was beginning to lose hope, I was considering putting on a huge meaty streamer to see if we could get him to chase it down but if that failed he would spook out for sure. We stopped periodically and waited, he moved back up to the head of the run where the more difficult cast was required. Heath continued to cast and I continued to watch this trout’s every move for any sign that he ate the fly we were putting on him. Finally, close to an hour in he moved, the hook was set and what I thought looked big on the bottom was enormous near the surface. I was in the creek with the net almost immediately, a botched net job on my part almost lost the fish (something I still have to work on), a four minute battle saw him drive for cover rocks, hold tight to the bottom and eventually chase up a riffle. George, we finally had George.

We took great care to handle this trout with respect, photo’s were taken then a large amount of time was spent holding him in the riffles, making sure he was ready to go back to his hole before we left him. We each got to hold that massive trout, the colors, the spots, the jaw, the most spectacular Driftless specimen I have ever seen. Notch one off the bucket list. We sat amazed, we had just completed a journey, just concluded a legend. It may be my legend but it’s true, every word of it. Every trout I touch over 20inches will be known as a George for as long as I live because of the massive brown in a tiny creek that I ran into one August day in 2008 only two months after picking up a fly rod for the first time. I am thankful that we were both able to see this trout, I don’t mind not being the one to physically hook this fish, that means very little to me. It was more important that I was present to see this fish, that the one to catch it had put in the time and stalked it with me and that it went back to it’s hole un-harmed. I have plans to go check up on him soon but I don’t know that I’ll ever cast to him again. I’ll be content knowing we got to see the monster in the tiny creek and that he lived to see another day.

Slide Show

To quickly address the lack of content, lack of motivation and lack of fish. This winter season, despite the above average air temperatures, below average precipitation totals and number of days spent on the creek has produced little to write about. I felt my motivation slipping in the first two weeks of February and from there I’ve just been biding my time grumpy that everytime I go out the waters been low, the trout seem spookier than normal and I’ve just been catching less. That doesn’t make going to the creek any less enjoyable but it puts spending a Saturday on the water, paying for the gas and putting the miles on a vehicle come into perspective a bit more when you’ve only been catching one or two fish an outing. Maybe I’m slipping, maybe the low water/spooky trout is just an excuse to cover my month and a half dry spell, either way it doesn’t matter anymore. The fish are there, the bugs are going to be showing up in larger numbers and I’ll be there, waiting.

The 4th of March, 26 degree air temp on arrival at ~11:30am. Sunny skies, very minimal wind with low and gin clear creek water. I picked a spot I’ve been missing for some reason, maybe it’s pink line syndrome that’s been getting to me, driving past miles of creek that I can’t touch just to get to a short reach of a stream I’ve seen dozens of times. This spot is obviously a pink line (because I don’t violate our trout regulations) but I hadn’t seen it in quite a while. I knew it would be a bit more difficult due to it’s size and water levels but I was in the mood for a hike and if catching one or two was my last months average then I figured seeing something fresh and maybe catching one along the way would suffice my appetite. Carl came with, we started lower than I typically do and fished upstream farther than I’d ever gone, ~3.5 miles each way.

Trout were seen almost immediately, one rose while we put our gear on. I went straight to a #18 Pink Safety fly knowing that I just wanted one trout and sometimes the Pink Safety fly is the way to get that job done so the skunk is off and the rest of the day can be spent enjoying the Driftless area, searching the creek, spying for bugs and watching your friend have a kick ass day on the creek. My first cast on a hole I hiked directly to was poor and I planted my fly on a branch just above the group of trout I was targeting. Not good. Somehow I managed to kick my fly off and get it back in the creek before the trout spooked, instantly the first brown that saw it hit and hit hard. Finally a strike worthy of a quick hookset. With 10inches of spotted fish in my hands I knelt in the creek, it was going to be a damn fine day.

I continued to fish the #18 Pink Safety fly for the majority of the afternoon while Carl fished drys for a bit, a small nymph for a while and ultimately ended up tossing a lightly weighted streamer of his own design. Honestly it wasn’t much to look at (sorry man) but it did make me think I need something like it in my box. Things that caught my attention, it’s smaller size (maybe a #10 or 12), lightly weighted with a significant amount of flash. I think the size and weight made it perfect for this small creek with it’s low water and spooky trout. My SMB would have been too heavy and too big, the KML might have worked but again even the smallest size I tie that fly in would have been big compared to what Carl was tossing. The fly I ended up putting on later in the day was a #8 Hairball, I tie it on a 2x short scud hook so it’s over all appearance is pretty small for a streamer but has a nice large hook gap. Learn from those who fish, ask questions, have a dialogue about what’s going on while your out. I can’t fish with just anyone, it’s been proven over the years. I like fishing with someone, actively fishing with someone else gives you their perspective, bounce ideas and thoughts off one another, it will make you a better angler.

I’ve spent quite a few hours on this creek, I love how each time I visit it seems that mother nature changes the game plan. You’ll arrive to find a spot that was once blocked by a downed tree now open and free to drift a fly through and at the same time just upstream the hole you were itching to fish will no doubt be clogged with debris of some sort. It’s a challenge. Carl and I strolled up to a hole that was previously open to clean clear casts from fifty feet but due to a newly downed tree we had to sneak up from behind. Ironic how the tree downed across the tail of the pool provided cover for the fish but also allowed Carl to sneak up closer than he would have been allowed before to slip a short cast in to pull out a 13inch brown. As he was lifting the brown from the creek I watched a dogger come from the depths, she looked right at Carl’s fly hanging from the smaller trout’s mouth. Without spooking she watched the smaller fish get pulled from the creek and proceeded to move back to the feeding lane. I watched this happen while Carl missed it, I knew that fish wanted that fly. I was awe struck for a moment, after spitting out the details to Carl I watched as he tossed his fly in for a second time. A short drift and a tight line produced that trout, all 18inches of her. Some creeks grow brown trout quickly but they tend not to grow as large and often die younger while other creeks grow brown’s slowly, they often grow larger and live longer. I believe this creek to be a “slow grow” creek, this trout could be over 6 years old. She’s not the dominate predator around either, the severe dorsal fin damage and the large hit on her top side make me question what would consider her dinner.

We let her go and smiled in the sun. I love the fish of the day, often you know it when it’s happened and it makes the rest of the day that much more satisfying. Carl and I spent the rest of the afternoon hiking further up the valley in search of brookies but to my surprise found only a scant few. What we did find however were large numbers of brown trout surrounded by beautiful spawning substrate and plenty of cover. Everywhere we looked there was a spot with 20-30 small browns and a couple nicer ones lurking off to the sides. Cover rocks and tree limbs have been good to these trout. I watched Carl sneak cast from behind an obstruction to pull out a small brown on his knees. That is the definition of a driftless angler, casting hidden on your knees to pull a wild trout out from a four foot wide creek and he made it look easy. We fished to the end of the pink line and turned around for the ~45min hike out. This was what I needed, the motivator, the day when the trout didn’t require force feeding, conditions were modest yet very comfortable, and the hike through the valley void of other humans…necessary.

Slide Show

• Air Temp: ~30 Degrees F
• Water Temp: 52 Degrees F
• Conditions: Sunny Skies/Minimal Wind
• Time: 12:28pm

The first BWO’s I’ve seen since I stopped crossing the border showed up the other day. I nearly dove head first into the creek after them but it being ~30 degrees out I showed a bit of restraint. I blew the only hole showing rising trout just to get a couple pictures of these flies, they came and went quickly. Hatching lasted maybe 45minutes and the numbers were minimal, I counted a scant few float by every so often. This is just the beginning, they are here, check the rocks, look for those dark fat wing pads, then take note and go back. About time this season put up something to write about.

Slide Show

Ok, so I maybe fish a streamer more than most, I admit it. Once I figured it out it became simply second nature, almost to a fault. There are times I’m fishing a streamer when I should really be fishing nymphs, something to work on. The evolution of angler should never stop, it is through constant evaluation and re-evaluation that we excel. I write this two Ranger IPA’s down and looking forward to tossing flies at trout tomorrow. Ironic that I think about my streamer “crutch” as I write the introduction to something I’ve been mulling over about for a couple months or so, something more natural, with more…boogie. The Jungle Boogie, with less flash, a simple yet effective profile and tons of motion it is my Sculpin pattern. Sure, it needs extensive field testing and this coming season will allow for that, but for now I am confident that it will see trout. Browns, brookies, and yes…stocker rainbows will see this pattern in the coming months. Then after a couple adjustments and the development of a couple more color options this will become a staple in my arsenal. This fly, named after the movement that the jointed sections provide, tied on two #12 Dia-Riki 135 Scud hooks and linked by a simple length of backing, moves. I like the lack of flash, it will have it’s days when the trout turn down the flashy SMB for something more… realistic. Weight will need a bit of tweaking, as of now it’s roll casting close to 40ft accurately, I’d like to get 50 out of it. I’d also like to mention that the dubbed portion of this fly is made possible by the groovy dubbing courtesy of Singlebarbed.com, the Free Range. Natural in color with just enough flash to freak me out, this stuff rocks and that’s the only reason why I keep plugging it. Get into it, trust me, you’ll never go back. With that… the only fly that I know of that has a theme song…the Jungle Boogie. Kool and the Gang, 1974…get down, get down…Jungle Boogie. Here I come trout…

Note: This is Not a Woolly Bugger.

Slide Show