Still got it and, I (heart) dual purpose flies

I went a whole month without fishing. Yes it's true. I didn't like it either. Actually the drought stretched almost two months. The last time I was on the water was around my Birthday in early December. So for the first month in almost three years, I did not catch a fish in the month of January this year. That's my sob story, but there is only one way to fix this problem. It was time to take action.

This winter has been fairly busy, but still there is no excuse. My fly tying has taken off and really kept me busy but that is definitely not an excuse. Honestly I do enjoy tying a good fly almost as much as fishing, so the time spent at the vise these last couple months has been very enjoyable. Maybe that's one reason I haven't fished as much. Keeping busy tying scratched that itch just enough. But still there comes a time when a person just has had enough and needs to hold the cork,waive the stick, and put some of those creations from the vise in front of some fish.

There is a moment of self doubt when I pick up an activity again after a little time off. Each winter the first time I hit the ski slopes, I always wonder on the lift ride up the mountain for that first run if I have completely forgotten how to ski. In the case of skiing my fear is often very legitimate though as I take my first run of the year tumbling down the mountain. So as I drove up the road to the river yesterday I wondered if in two months off from fishing I had forgotten how to properly present a #22 midge to a wily brown trout.

However as I pulled up to the first run I wanted to check out and looked down into a stretch of water filled with rising trout, instinct took over and I became a flurry of activity. Waders on, Boots, Fly rod rigged, off to the water without even a second thought of how well I would be able to present a fly to these fish. Then as I reached the edge of the water it hit me. This is real. The frantic pace at which I had gotten ready quickly shifted to a much slower gear, and every step in the calm section of river was made with extreme caution not to make any sudden movements that throw ripples over these fish, and tip them off to my presence. Getting my wading legs under me proved interesting. In my eagerness I placed a boot on the side of a hidden rock and slipped a bit. Careful. Pausing to give a chance for the slight disturbance this caused to subside I saw the fish were still slurping away. No harm no foul. But now the doubts were back.

These fish were not going to just come to the net. They were feeding in a calm slow moving section of river on midges, and from my experience, more likely half emerged midges, not the fully hatched adults that littered the surface. I tied on a Harrops Transitional Midge, one of my favorite midge patterns and took aim at the closest snout.

First cast, you guessed it, the back cast got caught up in a bank side willow I had misjudged my proximity to. After slipping a few times getting in, and not wanting to wade back to the shore if I could help it, I took the lazy route and tugged on the fly a few times and was pleasantly surprised when it popped free still attached to the tippet. Without examining the fly I loaded the rod and dropped a fair cast in the feeding zone of the nearest trout. Sure enough, my fly selection had been spot on, as if on cue the trout rose and grapped the bug. I set the hook, but it popped free. Oh well I had got a take, my confidence was improving. But it quickly turned to frustration.

The next three fish all had the same story. I would finally get a good drift, have them take, and have the hook come free on the set. I am just rusty I thought. But I decided to take a look at the fly. Well it seems the fly I was using was missing a key ingredient. The hook point. Apparently popping the small fly out of the willow, had broken the hook at the bend, so I was practicing the ultimate in catch and release techniques. As I examined my fly box for a replacement I realized that this had been the only transitional midge pattern in my box. So much for all that time at the vise, apparently tying every pattern but the Harrops Transitional midge.

So I resorted to trying out several patterns over the next 15 minutes, mostly they all were meant to mimic the adult midge, but I tried to modify and fish them as much like the transitional as possible. It wasn't working. The fish ignored every other fly. Then I had an idea. I have a mayfly emerger pattern I tie that uses a similar CDC bubble on the back of the fly that really works well during the appropriate mayfly hatch. The Bubbleback Emerger.

This picture is of the PMD version of the fly, but I tie a BWO version that is darker and on the whole I tie it in smaller sizes. So I wondered, even though there were no BWO's to be seen, if this pattern would pass well enough for a transitional midge. I tied on the smallest one I had, and made my approach to a big snout rising regularly just off the bank along a partly visible boulder jutting from the water. It didn't take long to find out if the fish would take this fly as a midge. The fly landed and wasn't on the water for more than a couple seconds when that fish rose and engulfed it. And with the help of an actual hook point on this fly, I was connected to my first fish of 2012.

As the fish took to the air, then ripped up river, then back down, I simply put my head back and breathed a huge breath of fresh air, relishing the moment. The fish was a healthy 18 incher that didn't come in without a fight. Finally a fish to hand.

As the hour wore on I hooked and landed 5 more fish on the BWO Bubble Emerger in the midst of a blanket midge hatch, and discovered a new use for one of my favorite mayfly emerger patterns. Life is good, and I can still catch fish. Ahhhh.

Rambling on about BWO's on Sunny Days

I live in a place with four distinct seasons, and for many reasons I am glad for that.  From a fly fishing perspective each season brings new hatches, and a new approach to the rivers and lakes I love to fish.  It seems that every time the seasons change I catch myself saying "this is my favorite time of year to fish."  The changing seasons and their effects on our favorite fishing waters have a way of keeping things interesting.  And it is true that each and every season is my favorite one for fishing.  If asked to pick one, I will pick whatever current season we happen to be in.

Now since we find ourselves smack in the middle of the fall, and around here that means BWO's in big numbers I figured I would touch on something I have notice this fall in fishing the small baetis patterns.  It is fairly common knowlege amongst fly fishers that some of the worst fall weather is prime time for fishing these bugs as they seem to emerge in prolific numbers during those more adverse weather conditions.  If you are lucky enough to be able to pick and choose last minute the days you are going to fish, it may be no problem to wake up, look out the window, see perfect BWO conditions and make the decision then and there that you are going to hit the water.  But for others that may not be so lucky, it will invariably happen that the day you can fish is the brightest sunny day of the fall, and is not so ideal for a large BWO emergence.  However BWO's still hatch on these days it just may require a little more effort to find them, and to find the fish up feeding on them.

It seems that the hatches are a bit shorter lived on those sunny days, but they do exist.  From my experience it may happen a little earlier in the day than it would on the nastier days, but not always.  It will require a little scouting and moving around, but often the bugs and the fish rising to them can be found.  When I get to the river on those bright sunny fall days the first places I will look are the portions of river that will be the first to be shaded by the afternoon sun.  I don't necessarily know if the sun is an aversion to the bugs themselves, but I do think that the fish will be more likely to rise for the bugs if the high afternoon sun is not beating down directly on the water.  

For example on a recent trip to a favorite fall river in the area, on one of these sunny days, I drove into one of my favorite fall holes, that fits the description above perfectly.  It is also a perfect BWO run.  A nice moderate riffle, a perfect place for a BWO nymph to live it's pre-dun life feeds into a long, slow, and deep section of water with a lot of scattered boulders and structure.  The bugs hatch up in those riffles then the sailboat profiled duns drift slowly along the slower stretch attempting to dry their wings enough to be able to take flight.  The fish will often be in the tail of the riffles, and scattered through the slower water picking off duns, but also looking for any of those less fortunate bugs that have had difficulty emerging.  Helplessly they too float along the current, powerless against the river, or the fish that lurk below.  These cripple and stillborn bugs provide an easy target and the fish know it, and they do seek them out.

This run also happens to run against a steep hill side that casts a shadow on the river very early in the fall afternoon.  On this particular day as I arrived at the run I jumped out of the truck and pushed through some bank side brush to get a peek at what was happening on the river.  While I knew with the bright sun overhead there was a chance that not much would be happening I was pleasantly surprised when I noticed several fish feeding near the far bank.  As I sat and watched the activity in the run for a few minutes it became clear to me there was a distinct pattern to where the fish were feeding.  The pool was half in shade, half in the sun and a large pod of fish were feeding here, but they never fed out in the sunny portion of the river.  As the sun moved slowly overhead, and thus the shadows crept down river, so did the feeding fish.  Big trout would feed right up to the edge of the shaded section, but no further.  There were plenty of bugs on the water in the sun, but it was becoming clear, it wasn't the bugs avoiding the sun, it was the fish.

In the fall many of our rivers are also at lower flows, and the water is usually very clear.  The low, and clear fall water conditions, means fish have to be especially mindful of the threat of predators.  The fish will be very careful to avoid the revealing light from above, and will try and stay close to deeper holes, and structure as they come out to feed.  Finding stretches of river like this run is the key to finding fish up on BWO's even on sunny days.

On this particular day I landed several smaller fish in that shaded section of the pool, but as the hatch waned, the pool quieted, and the river that had just seemed loaded with fish, suddenly appeared deserted.  But I knew there were still opportunities there.   I carefully waded up the now completely shaded side of the river, tight against the bank, pausing to examine every little pocket, exposed rock, tiny current seam or other structure along it.  Suddenly my eyes were drawn to a dark spot that barely made a ripple in the lazy current, just to the right of a small exposed rock.  The naturally broken current as if flowed along the rock disguised a well hidden fish, sipping the scraps of dead, spent, and half hatched bugs being congregated along the bank, and then funneled off the current seam this little rock created.  The rises were methodical, but so subtle they could easily be missed.  This is when I often catch some of the larger fish during a hatch.  After the frenzy has subsided, and the bigger fish come out to snack on the easy prey that the buffet of helpless scraps presents.  They take the best lies where the wind and current collect the helpless insects and sip subtly to their hearts content. 

I waded into position and made sure my CDC Wing Sparkle Dun was ready to go.  I checked my knots one last time, and stripped out several arm lengths of line.  Hoping to time things just right I waited for the fish to rise again before making my cast.  His dark nose appeared once, then twice, and I knew it was time.  A couple false casts to work enough line through my guides and I let it go.  The line straitened perfectly dropping the small fly just ahead of the feeding trout.  Sure enough as the fly pushed off the side of the rock floating with the current that gentle sipper took it just like he had been taking the naturals.  Bringing up the rod I felt the heaviness of a big bodied trout that immediately bolted for the middle of the river.  Slugging it out there and hoping to not let the big fish get downstream of me where it could really use the current to it's advantage I put a bit of extra pressure on.  The fish was strong and surged against that pressure, but I managed to keep it under control.  As it slid closer to the net I admired a hefty fall fish that would easily go over 20 inches.  Exactly why fall is currently my favorite fly fishing season.  But winter is on deck.

The Joys of Spring, Blue Wing Olives, and...Popcorn? Part 1

I will admit in the past Spring has never been my favorite season.  I know the ideal image of spring brings to mind thoughts of fresh sprouting green grass, soft gentle rains, budding willows, and freshly bloomed daffodils, but it seems that the reality is often closer to dull gray skies, harsh winds, and sticky brown mud...everywhere.   Okay that may have been the pessimist in me coming out.  But in the past I have always felt that Spring was a bit overrated as a season, and just a necessary transition that must be endured until summer finally arrived.  As a fly fisherman though I have garnered a whole new found respect for that formerly overrated season, thanks to one tiny bug.  The Blue Wing Olive.  

A freshly hatched BWO rides along the calm surface.

The reality is that BWO's can have a presence throughout the year, and make a strong reappearance in the fall, but their spring time arrival is about as welcome an event as you can have for both fly fishermen and fish alike.  Other hatches get all the hype, but these little bugs can make fish go bonkers, and in weather conditions that used to rank right up there with the reason I felt spring was over rated, these bugs flourish.  If you ask me now what days in the spring I look forward to it would be a fairly cold 45-50 degree day with overcast skies spitting a few rain showers, with even a little breeze thrown in.  Of course not enough of a breeze to make casting a fly rod difficult, but just enough to push those little sailboat profile mayflies around on the water, and concentrate them between a swift current seam and a grassy bank.  Natures way of creating an all-you-can-eat buffet for hungry trout coming off a cold lethargic winter of snacking on whatever requires the least amount of energy to be expended.

As I stood in the midst of a frenetic river last week watching one of the most amazing hatches of Blue Wing Olives come off, it reminded me of watching popcorn, except, unless you really like popcorn, a bit more exhilarating.  There is the quiet calm where the kernels sit quietly in the slowly heating oil.  It can be hard to tell when this stage starts as all the action is underwater, hidden from the anglers eye.  It may look like the water is quiet, but underneath  the surface things are starting to happen.

Then the oil starts to sizzle and pop.  Like when you start seeing those first rises.  Usually just dorsal fins, or tails as the fish take the rising nymphs as they swim for the surface.  Things are getting more heated now.  And the first kernels are starting to crack.   You hear that first pop in the pan, or you see that first dun on the surface gliding slowly along drying it's wings.  A fish here and there begin rising for the later stage emergers, and  a couple are even up on the few duns floating down river.

Suddenly, like that moment that the kernels begin exploding, not one at a time, but  at a constant thunderous rate, things get bananas.  In that run you could have sworn was void of any fish just minutes before there are more rises than you can count.  One look at the water and you see exactly why.  The evidence is littering the surface as the small sailboat profiles are everywhere.  Where once a sporadic bug or two drifted alone, there are literally hundreds...no thousands!  It gets crazy.  You hope this crescendo lasts for a while.  The fish are going nuts and so are you.  In the right conditions (see my new favorite spring weather above) this stage can last quite some time, and when it does I count my lucky stars or what ever that saying is.

Then just as quickly as they started popping things subside.  Again you can only see a couple duns drifting on the surface.   Some of the stragglers, like those half popped old maids in the popcorn bowl, are struggling to make it off the water.  Something has happened in  this process for them and they aren't going to make it.  Like those half or unpopped kernels that settle  and collect in the bottom of the bowl, these wounded and battered bugs get pushed helplessly by the current into protected pockets or up against a grassy bank where they become more concentrated.  Much of the surface activity has subsided as well, but a few of the wiser and larger fish are still around.  Tucked into those little nooks where those crippled and half drowned mayflies have been rounded up against their will they sip away quietly.   It's the tail end of the action, but the careful eye of an observant angler knows there is still action to be found in seeking out these protected areas and keeping a keen eye out for those stealthy rises.  Then the river is quiet, waiting silently for the next out burst. 

I am no entomologist, and certainly no fly fishing expert.  I just know I love to watch a good hatch develop and reap the rewards that come along with it.  There are plenty of frustrating moments in this process for myself. But it is what keeps me coming back.  If things were always easy, then what would be the point?  These BWO hatches have given me some great study material this spring.  I have learned, and I have gone back to the drawing board.  Many times, but it's all part of the process.

A nice fish that came early in the hatch on an early stage emerger pattern.

This fish fell for a more standard upright wing pattern mimicking the BWO Dun

One of those fish spotted after the hatch sipping cripples that collected along a shallow grassy bank.

More Bugs

Well I made it out to the river yesterday but things are still a bit out of sorts from the raised water levels. There were bugs of all sorts, Blue Wing Olives; Pale Morning Duns; and Calibaetis, floating down the river but not a single fish rising to them. Instead I got to practice my bug photography.

Callibaetis

A Scouting Trip

I took a little jaunt out to the river on my lunch break the other day. I didn't even bother rigging up the rod. I did manage to turn over a few rocks in the stream and found these Skwala nymphs everywhere. One or two under almost every rock.


When I got back to my truck there were a couple midges that seemed to think the hood was as good a place as any.Spring is around the corner. The river is just waiting to come alive right now.

Summer on the Owyhee River

One of the larger Caddis that were hatching

Well the fishing was so-so last night on the Owyhee River. I spent more time simply observing the more subtle everyday happenings on a river than I usually do. I am hoping my observations help out tonight when I go back. Here is a quick summary of the evening.

All my usual spots had fishermen in them so I ended up at one of my not so favorite spots. It is a place I always try when everything else is filled up because it looks like a great spot but it has yet to produce like it appears that it should. I fished for an hour or so, caught one small fish on the smallest pheasant tail nymph I had, and then started really noticing all the bug activity on the river. There was a tiny caddis hatch and by tiny I mean the Caddis were tiny, not the hatch. There were midges all over the water. Then there was a hatch of larger caddis and I even saw what appeared to be a smallish stonefly I am guessing a Yellow Sally. I also noticed a lot of callibaetis nymphs floading in the water so that would explain the success with the pheasant tail. Then came the exciting part of my outing. In trying to wade a little too fast back down stream after taking a few pictures I slipped and fell. In flailing around trying to get my feet under me I reached out and grabbed at the nearest peice of brush along the shore which just happened to be a nice patch of stinging nettles. My right arm is still tingling today. It is funny I never remember nettles hurting this long when I was a kid but I am sure I didn't marinate in them like my arm did this time as my priorities where more along the lines of not falling rather than worrying about what it was I was grabbing on too. Meanwhile my arm was in there getting well introduced to the nasty stinging plants. After this debacle I moved to one of my favorite spots in the last hour of light and had numerous hookups with what felt like very nice fish but for some reason couldn't keep the fish on the hook. Maybe next time.