I was fortunate enough to get in a couple hours with some friends of mine, Wendy B. and his two boys James and Danny. With the younger ones with us the expectations for the outing were fairly low, I just wanted to see James in action fishing his spinning rod with a twister tail jig. We got on stream and hiked a short distance to the first couple of easier opportunities for this guy to catch a trout. The recent rain which dumped over .7inches of rain in my gauge at home in less than two hours the day before had turned the creek to borderline mud. It was fishable but I had my doubts.

Once in position I watched as Wendy B. did a bit of minor instruction, pointing here or there to encourage good placement of the jig. Maybe instructing how deep to allow it to sink simple things without any hand over hand instruction. After several minutes with no luck James lost interest and moved away from the creek to a small pond looking for frogs/toads and snakes. Wendy just simply allowed him to work things at his pace. While I’m observing all this go down I’ve got my line rigged with a two fly nymph rig consisting of a # 12 Free-Range Scud and a #16 Pink Patrick all the while Danny is perched on my shoulders and I’m roll casting my flies through a run. I got a handful of strikes right away but couldn’t seem to make any of them stick. I moved upstream to look back and see James with his rod again, fishing a hole with his dad just downstream fishing a run. I smiled at this scene and took a couple pictures. Someday, maybe James will love these pictures.

Ho-humming along taking a few swings here and there I had switched to a #8 Olive SMB and picked up a smaller 12inch brown. James was fishing downstream from me when my line went tight after a good cast was put next to a larger boulder. A dogger was on the line, in my excitement I managed to call everyone around Wendy B. and the boys watched as I moved the brown to the bank. This was a beautiful fish and the boys were digging it. I took a shot of James with the fish right away and then asked Danny if he wanted to help me release the fish in a riffle just upstream. I enjoyed seeing the boys look at the larger fish maybe more than actually catching it. Danny and I released the brown for an adventure some other day and with that we moved upstream to wind out the afternoon. I hung around with the boys looking for toads while Wendy B. took a crack at a couple good looking runs. While away from the creek we spotted a cow that had a horrible limp, back right hoof could barley hold the weight as it limped along. I stopped what I was doing and took pictures of the animal then promptly parted ways with my friends to see if I could find the landowner. I knocked on his door and looked around but no answer, I would later find out after calling the landowner that the cow had a bad case of foot rot and that had he not caught it in time to give it anti-biotics it may have ended up being put down. He didn’t know about the situation and was very grateful that someone was looking out for the cattle. Shortly after getting back on the creek we decided it was time to take off. One dogger and a saved cow hanging out with two of the coolest kids, a very good day.

Slide Show

Woke at 3:45am on an air mattress with a dog snout in my face. Liz and I stayed at her parents house after a late evening dinner so I could be closer to optimum Trico water. I woke and readied my gear and mental state while Liz lay sleeping until 4:15am when I abruptly woke her with the line “Time to go, Trico’s wait for no one.” She dropped me of at Wendy B’s house at 4:35am then drove home to fall back asleep. Wendy B. and I left promptly for Trico rich trout water. Onstream at ~5:35am we rigged rods as the sun came up around us while drinking coffee and swapping stories. Once geared we assessed the creek and with no Trico’s about we headed downstream through head high grass wet with the morning dew. We hiked until it seemed we had put enough distance between us and the vehicle to make for a full morning. With the only visible bugs around being borderline microscopic and the fact that the Trico’s hadn’t made an appearance yet I rigged a #8 Olive SMB, third cast next to a small rock outcropping pulled a 10inch brown from the stream. Landing the fish I saw the first clear rise for a Trico. I took a water temp of ~62°F at 7:07am after the first rises were observed. Very few if any spinners were visible in the air, over the course of the next hour I tossed the SMB and a #8 Hairball with minimal success.

At ~8am the cloud began to form, this event is one to witness as photographs and video do the human eye no justice. Fish were surfacing in a regular rhythm but not at the boiling rate I was expecting to see. Wendy B. and I split up to fish runs with rising fish on them, shortly after I got my first of a handful on a #20 Trico Spinner I had tied last year for mornings just like this. From 8:30am until 10am fish were seen rising but getting a strike required precision and stealth, unlike the previous time I had witnessed this event the fish were skittish and would spook easily despite the bounty lying in the surface film. I could see them float past and yet the fish remained hesitant to take an imitation. I scooped a couple up for comparison and though my tails were a bit long and the body color Black rather than a Charcoal I thought my imitations were in the ball park. We moved further upstream after the cloud grew ever larger only to find another fella enjoying the spot we had planned to fish, the consequence was excellent. Forced to move on rather than disturb the other angler we fished upstream and saw water new to both of us. Trico’s were dying off in the upstream reaches but the handful of fish we found rising seemed much more receptive to our offerings, a creel was being filled in short order.

Somewhere around 10:30am the Trico’s all but disappeared, the only signs they were here were stuck in spiderwebs along the creek bank. A truly awe inspiring event to see a Trico spinner-fall. If you haven’t, I suggest setting the alarm clock and making this morning appointment, it’s worth it. With dry flies out and two fly nymph rigs in play Wendy proceeded to school me landing 5:1 easy on me, something was off and a particular tasty run gave up many fish to my friend but refused to let me land much more than a single 6inch brown despite my best efforts. The worst came when a dogger was hooked on my lead fly (#8 Hairball) only to escape when the 6inch fish mentioned above swooped in to tag the trailer (#16 Black PT), somewhere in the ensuing fight tension was released and the dogger swam away unscathed and un-photographed leaving me holding the 6inch fish. The consolation was that we both got to see the whole thing go down which more than made up for the lack of big brown stink on my hands. With the morning fading, the sun and temperature rising combined with creek chubs becoming ever more aggressive we called it a day and a good one at that. Thanks for the Trico trip Wendy, a good time as expected. This must become a yearly event, it is for the bugs and fish anyway, mid as well join in.

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Day 2: The Big C. Started at 7am, wake, dress, brush teeth and head for coffee and a quick breakfast. Long hours were about to be logged in search of puffy lipped prey. Down a backroad and parked at a spot with a sign full of bullet holes we geared up for the day. This meant waders, boots, rod, reel, long sleeves, plenty of flies and the buff. I was advised to purchase one before this trip and damn am I glad I did. Saved me from being one fried carp angler. Concerned about the potential for rain I went for my raincoat which incidentally contained both my camera and fly box only to find that I had left it at the freakin’ coffee shop. Rather than let this rookie mistake ruin my mood for the day I made a quick phone call to ensure the return of my gear by the days end then turned to Montana and Wendy B. for a handful of flies. With that said all the photos from day 2 come from Wendy B. and Montana.

A short hike and we were slowly stepping foot in a flooded portion of the Columbia river backwaters. The three of us came upon carp almost instantly. The Big C was up and what would have been dry land was close to thigh deep but the carp were here, pock marks were felt through boots, wader and sock. Within minutes dark shapes could be made out searching the sand and rocks for food. The depth charge would be critical here, with the combination of high turbid water and the unfortunate lack of sun for the morning we moved slowly again attempting to spot a carp, determine which end to put the flies on and wait for any sign to set the hook. As we moved into the flooded bay we split up each slowly moving off in a different direction. Again Wendy B. was the first one to have the smell of carp on his hands and it didn’t take long. With the morning progressing the sun eventually made it to the party and helped make the day a bit more angler friendly the wind, however was hanging out with us as well making things tricky at times.

My two fly rig consisting of the Worm and “Black Softhackle” fly required that one have a tungsten bead attached to it to make the count to the bottom less than a three. We fished turbid water with a bit of cloud cover early and wind to boot. Basically we were attempting to spot a dark shape a couple feet down (before it spotted you and spooked off), gauge it’s direction and speed then plant the flies in a spot you felt would get them to the bottom right about the time the prey was passing over. This was no easy task but when it came together it was glorious. We fished a couple bays and a long stretch of big boulder shoreline that if taken slowly enough one could spot some big fish feeding between the rocks. Got some good opportunities and some good takes despite the difficulty of searching turbid water for feeding carp. A double was seen and Montana scored a beast that was feeding with it’s ass in the air with a long armed bomb drop, the fish moves in and a short moment later backing was clearly visable. He made it look damn easy too.

One aspect of this trip was making good choices regarding which fish to present flies to. Often pods of 2-5 or more carp would be moving close togather, these are the spawners that are interested in perhaps something other than eating a big ole fly. The temptation to put flies on these groups was great but often futile. I learned to look for the single fish, the tailing carp and concentrate on those fish. We each landed a handful on the Big C. then pulled out to check another location, this resulted in perhaps the most hilarious moment in the trip. As the three of us search flooded backwaters we spot a handful of carp closer to the surface. One was sent in, Wendy B., as the other two watch from a distance. Wendy creeps in, he is maybe thigh deep when he spots the fish he wants. Just out of reach he takes a single step forward and demostrates why one should be wary when you can’t see the bottom. With no bottom Wendy went swimming in his waders and John and I tried not to bust up laughing on the bank. It was close to the end of the day and probably felt pretty good but an unfortunate event none the less. Smiles were shared all around, thanks for that one Wendy.

Slide Show

After a couple months of planning, tickets purchased, flies tied, gear prepped, packed and flown 1,427 miles west Wendy Berrell and myself woke at ~5am to begin the first of four days with John Montana fishing the Columbia River for Cyprinus carpio. The 3wt was swapped for an 8wt with a fighting butt needed to wrestle powerful beasts into submission (Thanks to Sershen for the use of the gear). Greeted at the airport by Montana the day before we were given expected news, weeks of prior emails had given rise to concerns over the stage of the Columbia and John being the guy he is saw fit to spent the day scoping the situation out driving miles along the river while we flew through the air to make better decisions which would save precious time over the next few days. The situation was grim, the river was up…way up and turbid as all hell but we were on the ground with rods rigged ready to take the Columbia river carp on, high water or not. First stop was was a small pond we spied looking for dark shapes. I can say right now it took me almost a full day to really begin to spot these fish in deeper turbid water. Day 1 saw us scoping what would have been a nice flat on the main channel but other than vauge shapes ~4ft down I spotted only one tailing carp, thinking it was a stick I did nothing and kicked it up as I approached. We spent only the briefest of moments lingering on the flat, the fish were here but we couldn’t see them and thus we couldn’t effectivly present flies to them.

The three of us drove further to a pond that Montana had scoped the day before and gotten permission from the landowner to access and fish. Had we not had this opportunity Day 1 may not have gone down as it did, thanks to John for taking the time to find the water and ensure we would be able to fish it. The night before John explained we would need to alter our tactics a bit to fish this pond, this required a ~12lbs Steelhead leader rather than the typical 1x leader that would typically be employed. When fishing a flooded pond for fish that can bend you over, spank your ass and send you home with a limp line or a bent hook it is best to come prepared, had we not had those leaders far fewer fish would have been landed. Boots in the water we moved slow, so slow it was almost painful. Note: If you think your going slow, go a third the speed. Slow here means take about a 3inch step forward and pause, look in all directions and be confident that you haven’t been spotted before you think about moving again. We spread out a bit, Montana hung closer to me as I had only fished for carp on one other occasion and not under these conditions. He put me on fish as Wendy B. was already getting into his first of many carp. I was attempting to present flies to puffy lips in 2 feet of water with a long armed dapping approach without spooking the carp. My rig consited of a San Juan Worm trailed by a “Black Softhackle” fly that John had been slaying fish with just the day before. The first few attempts were botched and frankly ugly but within a reasonable amount of time I had hooked my first of the day. The 8wt doubled over like I tied it to a cinder block and started walking towards it. The carp ran straight for the nearest debris field in an attempt to bust me off. A bit of force and a strong ass leader saved the day, the fish was turned to deeper water allowing me to get the feel for these strong beasts. I got a decent run from the first one which scaled out at ~15lbs.

With one to hand the pressure was off, we had all gotten a carp and we now began splitting up slowly searching the water for dark shapes to present to. I worked on getting flies down fast, the depth charge as it were. When the conditions are so that you can only see the carp when they are right up on you one must have a fly weighted like a tank to get it to the bottom before your target moves on or changes direction. Enter the LOD, that’s Legion of Doom for those of you who have yet to witness the awe inspiring power of this carp fly. Tied heavy by the Minnesota man himself Wendy Berrell this fly simply out shined this trip. We got into a handful more then attempted to cross a flooded area which led to filled waders and three soggy fools along with quite a few smiles. I dumped my waders out and we moved to a second location near by. Spying carp from the bank I was sent in to retrieve one without allowing it to run to the rest of the fish sending them running for the depths. Not sure how I managed it but a long arm and a very subtle presentation put my fly about 4 inches from the mouth of a carp that was facing away from me when I witnessed the flies levitate into the mouth of the beast like something out of a sci-fi movie. The hook was set and the rod bent. Brakes were immediately applied as this fish had any number of obstacles less than 10ft away to tangle up in or bust me off with, that combined with the fact that I did not want the fish to let his buddies know what was coming their way I had to keep it contained to close quarters. I didn’t give that fish an inch and although I felt like I came close to breaking an 8wt or breaking the fish off fate would have it that I wore the carp out beforeanything could bust. It only took three minutes but it seemed like alot longer. Wendy B. came to net the beast and after the release he approached the fish I had tried not to spook. I spotted a grey blue basket ball, clearly larger than any of the other fish around and I brought it to Wendy’s attention. His fly put into place yielded one of the greatest moments of the trip…”the biggest f*cking carp you’ve ever seen” and then tragedy. Shortly after the carp took off and the brakes were applied the blue basket ball had vested Wendy B. by busting him clean off, a consequence of fishing flood debris for powerful fish. Something we would learn again and again as the next few days progressed. We rounded out the first day by splitting to the previous pond approaching the water one more time hoping we had given it enough time to allow the carp to move back in. We picked off a couple more with Wendy B. clearly leading the count, Montana had given up a majority of the opportunities to allow us to get into fish. He was more concerned we have a good time than himself catch a bunch of fish. When he saw one he wanted though…watch out carp, do not mess with John Montana. This concluded Day 1, sports, food and sleep soon followed. Day 2 was coming.

Slide Show

Threw this thing together after being inspired by Sershen’s recent couple of excellent videos. Note: all the video here was shot on the Panasonic Lumix TS-1 that I take in the field with me, the same point and shoot camera that captures all the still images. Thanks Wendy for being an unknowing subject and Sershen for helping me get it all figured out and up on the web.  With that, here is the video for January 17th, 2011. Enjoy another good day in the Driftless Area.

Take advantage of the 720p HD setting in the lower right corner, it takes a bit longer to load but well worth it.

I had the day off, the girl did not. Only one thing to do during trout season with time like this. Fish, hike, fish, hike, then fish some more and be thankful for the time in front of you. Plans were loosely organized and a friend of mine and I met to see a new stretch of winter water. I arrived a few hours earlier, with air temps predicted to be close to 20 degrees by 10am I saw no reason to sit at home waiting for it to get warm enough to fish, it was already plenty warm outside by the time I finished my second cup of coffee.

I arrived on-stream around 10:15am, rigged my rod and hiked just over a third of a mile through a few feet of snow to get streamside. After looking for and observing no signs of any rising trout or midge in the snow I opted for the same fly that has seen, touched and brought to hand a trout from every trip so far this year the #8 Olive Sprinkle Me Baby. I started by dead drifting it through a deep run hoping that something near the bottom would stir but nothing. I moved upstream and spied a riffle that was no more than 8inches deep. Ignoring all the winter trout fishing rules I blindly swung my streamer through the head of the riffle and right as I was about to pick my line up to continue on I saw a swell in the shallow water and sure enough a 14inch Brown was chasing my streamer through water so shallow I could see the tail sticking through the surface of the stream. He bit and we danced until he came to my feet. I took note of the location of this fish, the head of a shallow riffle. The air temp was approaching ~25degrees when I let this fish go. I could see midge crawling in the snow now but still no rising trout.

I moved upstream to a deeper run again, slapped a trailing #16 Orange Hot Spot Scud on and began dead drifting. A while later I had little to show for my efforts. I made a poor roll cast and planted my flies in a tree across the stream. I sat looking at my dangling #8 SMB thinking I was prepared to get wet to retrieve that fly, it has caught so many this year already I wasn’t ready to part with it. Accepting that getting wet would ruin the rest of my day I sucked it up and pulled my line tight enough to brake it. I expected a limp line, I got the # 8 SMB back. It turns out only the trailing fly was snagged in the tree, super sweet, it will live to see another trout. I slapped an indicator on my line and proceeded to land a few more smaller 10-12inch browns dead drifting the streamer pattern through a shallower (<3ft) run.

I hiked the third of a mile back and met my friend just after noon. We made a short drive to a second stretch of water and a new access. After greetings and a bit of gearing up we began another third of a mile hike through the deep Minnesota snow. We fished under grey cloudy skies with no wind for the next couple of hours. Midge were peppering the snow as we walked, I counted them as we hiked and observed them crawling over fifty feet from the waters edge. Still no rising trout, damn I want to see a steadily rising trout.

We each caught a few here and there but we don’t get to fish togather all that often so a fair amount of the afternoon was spent conversing, taking turns casting to fishy lies and enjoying the woods around us in a slow, the world will still be there when the sun goes down soft of way. We kicked up a couple of fat turkeys on our way and I remember feeling hungry as they took to the skies. We hiked upstream until we spied a notable landmark, fished just a bit more then decided to turn and head back to fish the first run we saw earlier in the day before splitting for home. After hiking just over a mile (according to Google Earth) in the snow we were plenty warm, so warm infact we both ended up complaining about it to some degree, probably not a bad thing during the winter season though, with that we parted ways. It’s been a good start to the trout fishing season but today made me think, this is just the beginning. Thanks again Wendy, good time as always. Think of the season to come…again, just the beginning.

Slide Show

Made plans to meet up with a friend of mine yesterday morning to fish water new to both of us, so new infact we both had a hard time finding the darn spot which ended up costing us a few minutes but nothing major. It is easy to fish the same spots you know, trust and rely on to provide that experience you want but it is worth your time to explore some place new. Head in with the expectation that it might be a bust but unless you see it first hand you’ll never really know what is out there. On stream arrival roughly 6:38am rigged and hiking by 7am. Neither of us were expecting to find the size water we did, way more than either of us were used to. The banks were covered with thick vegetation and it became clear very quickly that we were going to spend our time on this stream wading with the fishes. Larger, deeper, faster, uglier trout water lends itself to the streamer and we both agreed that the fish were going to perhaps be larger in size but fewer in number. We used weighted streamers to search the broken water, the deep water, the slack water, frankly it was cast to any place that you would live if you were a Driftless Area trout and hope someone was home.

After wading upstream a ways and dealing with a few unpleasantries (Barbed Wire, Nettles) we decided that this place was perhaps best left for a day when time was of little concern, where a guy might try to float down enjoying the day and catching the occasional trout here and there. That was not going to be today, at roughly 8:30am we did an about face and headed straight to the nearest spot that we knew held trout. Thinking to the SMB that we were fishing at the time of departure it made sense to target some easy pickin’s and hit up a rainbow hideout.

The second spot was not a total bust but it did not produce what I expected it to. Normally I have to beat the rainbows off the SMB with a stick but today that wasn’t the case. The rainbows would stalk it, turn on it, dart at it but never eat it. It’s hard to put that fly down when you see them come to your feet after it but never commit to dancing with you. If this scenario happens again and again I suggest you look at what the trout are doing and think twice before you spend all day trying to force feed the fish something they don’t want. After no fish on and perhaps a lost fly or two I was content with switching it up for a #16 Peacock and Partridge with a #20 Miracle Nymph trailer. Lifting my rod after my flies were sunk evoked responces from the Brown trout only and they were the dinkers. All these rainbows around and none of them want to taste my flies. After a bit Wendy B. and I moved downstream where we noticed a few rising trout, one in particular kept rising, over and over again. I’m tying a new fly on as I’m asking “is he still rising??” I was thinking of slapping on an Elk Hair Caddis but I saw the box of Gorilla flies that I had brought just in case.

I put the #18 Gorilla Lady on that rising trout and after two looks but no take it wasn’t looking good. Third time was a charm though and I picked that fish, stuck my bright red bug on it and sure enough, it ate it. Wendy B. is my witness, that and the picture pretty much says it all. Trout will eat a Lady Bug pattern. Much to still test here though, not sure if they ate it because it looked like a Lady Bug or because it happened to be presented in such a manner as to make it more palatable to the selective trout. One thing is for sure, you can’t miss this bright red fly as it’s floating high in the water. By the end that fly took three trout and although it needs a bit of a new paint job it can be easily re- colored to fish another day. Wendy B. and I parted ways around 11:30am and I split to check out one last spot before the day was to be finished.

I stopped here with the same goal in mind, tempt a few stocked rainbow trout with my SMB and hopefully have a blast in the process. Last year I caught several rainbows on nymphs and streamers in this spot but to my dismay I found not a single fish, oh yea wait one, single, individual, lone six inch trout. I put my fly in every crevasse that I thought might hold something but nothing, nothing but sand. I was prepared for this potential outcome and didn’t sweat it too much. Thunder and lightening were in the distance and it was time to get going. Walking past the plunge pool that I had been fishing with a straight upstream approach something caught my eye, a small pocket of slack water kind of in the middle of a large amount of flow. I cast one final time straight across into the most turbulant water stripping my streamer through that slack water and sure enough I felt my line tighten. At first I thought I snagged it but when my snag ran downstream at full force heading straight for a nasty looking cut bank I literally jumped in and had to run after it for a second before I was able to turn it away from the darkness. This fish is the reason why the net was sitting behind me, ready to rock. He ran once more and struggled as I forced him in but that is why I use 3x tippet when I fish the SMB now, so I can get those big ones in quick, land them to send them on their way. My 3wt doubled over is an awesome sight. Thunder from the clouds on the horizon sent me smiling home, that and the wonderful smell of trout on my hands. Thanks Wendy for another good time, always appreciate the good conversation.

Slide Show

The night before plans were hatched (interesting I used that particular term). I was set to arrive at 8:45am and with a short hike in Wendy B. and I would be staring at trout water by 9:15am. An initial water temp was taken at the first riffle crossing made, a cool 50 degrees. Rocks were picked and I set up a two fly nymph rig, BWO nymphs were present in higher concentrations so the WD-40 was employed. Before I could drift the rig more than a handful of times through the first spot we arrived at it became clear that nymphs were not going to be needed today.

I had some initial concerns that the stretch of water we chose to tackle today might not have much of a Grey Caddis hatch, those concerns quickly faded. Splashy rises were coming from smaller trout under 10inches within the first hour we were on the water. By 10:30am the stream was coming alive, Caddis were coming and they just kept coming. The larger trout could be spotted just by watching the rises, they were consistently at the head of each pool or run, often holding to one side of the seam in the slightly slower water. They do this to maximize the calorie intake from all those tasty Caddis flies but also to minimize the calories they burn by expelling less energy avoiding the faster current. Wendy B. and I sat on the first run we came to taking back to back Brown trout as we worked our way up to those larger fish at the head of the run. This was shaping up to be a once a year day.

The Grey Caddis just kept coming and by 11:30am they could be seen swarming near rocky structures, near downed trees and any vegetation hanging near the stream. Note: we observed a higher strike rate when we put our flies near structure which in turn had larger concentrations of Caddis swarming near. 90% of the trout I took were taken on a #16 CDC and Elk pattern that I tied rather sparse, it worked wonders. I wish I had tried a hackled pattern to see what if any effect it might have had, skittering a Caddis dry is still a bit of a mystery. We fished, with smiles on our faces in the sun. Glorious, tight lines, back to back, for the next couple of hours.

No count of fish was kept, it would have been a pain to do so. Even pictures kind of slimmed to a minimum, for a while we could do no wrong, just keep the fly in the water and out of the weeds behind you and it was going to get attacked, period. Wendy exhibited more restraint at times and I got over excited forcing me to spend some (but not too much) time picking my fly from the weeds. I fooled around with pull on my CDC and Elk pattern by casting it into slack water, crossing the current with my fly line and waiting for my line to tighten thus pulling the fly, as long as the fly stayed on the surface it was slammed every time after moving only a few inches. I found this particularly effective in certain spots where a traditional upstream approach wasn’t available. Keep this in mind when dealing with Caddis, a traditional drift will work but sometimes not nearly as well, these fish become keyed on that quick moving, darting fly and sometimes they don’t want to see your fly just sitting there. Caddis are not mayflies and they behave in extremely different manners.

We couldn’t argue with rising trout, water temps were pushed to the far reaches of my mind and I didn’t flip another rock for the rest of the day. We moved to each run exhibiting rising fish, worked each until one of us took the largest fish willing to show it’s face, they showed and we won. Wendy managed two really nice fish while standing in a riffle casting downstream to slack water, the marauders. He pulled each upstream through the riffle with the 2wt., that rod puts up for sure man. We progressed upstream and the adult Caddis numbers diminished, we could have continued on but not with dry flies, we chose to split, double back and fish the first few runs for a limit of 10inch fish for the grill.

By this point it was approaching 1:30pm and the adults were everywhere but rising behaviour seemed to drop off a cliff by 2:30pm. We each managed a few fish each before the dry fly drew no responses. To round out the day I chose to swing a streamer to trout with very full bellies, very few struck at my fly, perhaps something to take into consideration. At 3:15pm we made the trek out and by 4pm I was on my way home, what a seriously kick ass day. Minimal wind, nothing but dry flies. I mean I used only two flies all day and landed more fish in a few hours than I had any other day I’ve been fishing for trout. To my surprise the CDC and Elk pattern lasted for a long time (maybe I’m getting better at tying) and even after it came loose from the shank of the hook it still managed one last trout before it had to be retired, got my hook back though, a marvelous end to a dry fly. How often does that happen, to retire a dry fly after so many fish rather than busting it off on a trout, or loosing it to a tree? Hasn’t happened many times for me yet but there are many years of this in my future so I’m sure I’ll see it happen again. Thanks Wendy for another good run.

Other Notes and Observations:

• I wonder if we wouldn’t have taken more fish early if we had tried pupa patterns.
• #14 through a #20 adults were seen, so start large and work smaller and darker if the fish hesitate.
• Seriously considering a voice recorder for notes from now on, wish I had one this day.

Slide Show

Onsite arrival: 11:45am. I geared up and decided to take a quick peek at the situation prior to my compadre arriving at 12:30pm. I dawned a pair of new waders and boots today for the first time, my first set of breath-ables, about time… Snowshoes were a noticeable help immediately, it was very apparent we would be trailblazing after a hundred yards or so. Thanks to Sershen for lending out a pair so I could lend out mine. I was greeted by three large steers watching my every movement, I avoided them for the most part but managed to get a few good poses from the group. I rigged a single #16 Pink Patrick and let loose on the first hole I found fishy enough, several passes later I had just a twig from the bottom to show for my efforts. I chose not to dwell long and instead hiked back to the truck to meet Wendy B. Read the rest of this entry »

Today was a day to remember for sure, starting early. Woke at just after 3am, anticipation, like the first day of school I guess. Prepared myself and my gear and left for the first of several stretches in a vehicle. I met with Wendy B. early and traveled south in-search of Trico action. Arriving at waters edge at 6:45am I half expected the hatch to be well underway but thankfully I was wrong, being new and not taking the cooler night temperature into consideration I hadn’t realized that the AM Trico hatch would be a Mid-Morning Trico hatch. Read the rest of this entry »