Lower Illinois (Oklahoma) Trout

For weeks I have monitored the weather and the TU-Oklahoma Chapter 420 Facebook page, which  highlights fishing reports. I've anticipated this fishing trip with my dad on the Lower Illinois River for more than a month.

In a post earlier this year, I wrote about our first trip together after dad had completed chemo-therapy and surgery for colon cancer. After a few complications this summer, doctors have now cleared dad. This trip celebrated the end of all the recent nonsense -- he is once again cancer-free and feeling great.

Yesterday morning, the weather showed high-60s, moderate winds and partly cloudy. The US Army Corps of Engineers report for Lake Tenkiller dam indicated that all water releases would be completed by about noon.

We were on the water just after 12:30. Dad and I rigged up from the back of his pickup in the parking lot and walked along the river until we found a suitable spot not too far from where a few other flyfishermen were working the water.

Along the path, I asked someone returning to the parking lot if he had any advice. "Black and silver and small."  He noted that the fish were midging on top.

Dad wanted a bead-head Hare's Ear, and I had tied on an olive Wooly Bugger.  After a few casts I changed to a small blood worm that our friend Scott Hood had tied and given us earlier in the year.

There is that awkward moment when standing mid-stream. You've been casting  your heart out for an hour with no reward. Meanwhile other locals around you are pulling in fish with relative ease. About that time, dad got a strike. He noted that the retrieve was very slow. I quickly changed to an emerger pattern and tried the same. Sure, enough, the strikes started and I managed to bring one to the surface but he got off. Dad was getting good strikes as well but no cigar.

Just as I was starting to lose hope, dad hooked up and I maneuvered downstream, reminding him to keep his rod tip up high. I extended my net, and dad had his first trout caught on a fly and brought to hand.

The action picked up then and we were both getting good takes and bringing in fish. It was a lot of fun, and I'd say in the next hour or so we did even better than those nearby fishermen. We just needed to get our river legs beneath us.

Living where I do in the Pacific Northwest, where the dark, cold, wetness is well underway, it was nice to stand in the sunny warmth of a late November afternoon in my home state of Oklahoma. It was even nicer to see my dad get into some fish. He's an old timer at fishing and a relative newcomer to fly fishing. But his old instincts have advanced his skills pretty quickly. His cast, practiced a little over the past few days in our backyard pond, looked very good. And his ability to make adjustments to the conditions will enable him to fish any stream in the years to come.

In this blog I am always looking for what I can take away from each fishing trip. From this one it was clear right away. I learned to get even ore enjoyment out of someone else's enjoyment of flyfishing. It's a great lesson and even greater feeling.

November Rezzie

I've been reading good flyfishing books more than actually flyfishing these days. Zane Grey's Tales of Fishes and the final chapters of Death, Taxes and Leaky Waders by John Gierach have given me hours of great pleasure. I learn something new with each story.

Today I drove south to Purdy Spit near Gig Harbor for a day of chasing resident Coho and searun cutthroat trout. Despite morning fog, the day turned out to be a beautful, but chilly, post-Thanksgiving day.

Last night I drew the tidal chart (below) on my right hand so that I could remember. High tide today is 2:39 and the sun sets around 4:30. I fished from noon to sunset -- so incoming and outgoing.

I strung up my 9-foot, 6-weight with one of Leyland Miyawaki's poppers. To be honest, I've never caught a fish on one of his famous poppers, but I have used it successfully as a search pattern.  In other words, it has helped me to find fish but never to catch one.

Out at Purdy, there was already 5-6 flyfishers -- part of what looked like a group. They were friendly but didn't seem to be hooking up.

Fifteen minutes after my first cast, I noticed a small swirl just behind my popper, which I worked just about like a top-water lure for bass. I stopped for a split second and then resumed. Slam! Fish on.  It was just about 30 feet from me and so I saw the take pretty well.  I stipped him in and used the net to keep the fish in the water. This fish was about 13 inches, relatively small but an enthusiastic fighter.

I believe this was my first resident Coho and it was defintely my first saltwater fish on a popper. Sorry the photos (below) aren't better.

A few minutes later I had another, bigger swirl, but no cigar.

Meanwhile, dark old Chum were splashing and jumping all around. I tried a few times but they are not very interested in feeding at this stage of their lives.

I had several more takes during the day on a beach fly and a scud of some sort. But alas, my first would be my last.

Later this week I plan to fish with my dad in Oklahoma. The weather looks pretty good.

Chum

With the sun shining, the winds low and out of the North, I headed out for an afternoon of fishing.  We had a lot of rain in October, but it's dried up a bit and the rivers have been falling.

I took 3 rods today -- a 5-, 6- and 7-weight.  I didn't have a grand plan, but with my son occupied and the girls traveling I had a rare expanse of time.

My greatest interest was to hunt steelhead, and I knew the "S" rivers were the ones to hunt. So I drove north up the Snoqualmie to the Skykomish. I parked at Al Borkin Park and fished a quarter-mile gravel bar but no luck. Lots of fishermen out, but I didn't see any action. (Cfs was right at 3,000).

As the sun sinking, I headed back south to my spot beneath the Fall City bridge on the Snoqualmie. I took my 5-weight thinking I would just enjoy fishing for small cutts. Nope, nothing. The spot where I know the cutts always hang out was desolate.

Then a funny thing happend.

I saw a rather large surge near my tiny little nymph. I tried again and saw another huge swirl. I could hardly believe my eyes when I looked up and saw a huge fish head stick straight up out of the water and (seemingly) look at me.

Chum salmon! Lots of them.

I hustled back to the car and grabbed my 7-weight and tied on a fly I bought two weeks ago at Patrick's Fly Show. The proprietor there told me chum really dig this smallish, green dumbell-eyed fly (below).

He was right. On the first cast they ate it up. These fish must be 20 pounds. They jump and splash around in the water like a labrador retriever.  That's probably why they are called dog salmon.

They are also like a dog in that they grab the line for a game of tug-of-war and then just let loose when they are done playing.

I hooked plenty and had a decent little fight but never brought one to hand.  I brought several to the surface but they seemed to just let go. They don't run with the line, they just sit there and hold on tight.

A few weeks ago I fished the South Sound, where I saw enormous Chum right up on the beach leaping from the water. One jumped completely out of the water not 3 feet from me. But try as I might, they would take nothing.  This is why I stopped by Patrick's to learn what they would take.

To the uninitiated, the quick way to know Chum are in the area is big, loud splashes right next to the beach. These fish are fearless.

No wonder the usual cutts were gone. They've been pushed out.

Priorities for end of this year are steelhead and some more sea-run cutts. And later this month I will be in Oklahoma and hope to catch a variety there.

Rock-tober

When the water is this clear, and the levels this low, you find little pebble beaches submerged in just the right location. The footing is perfect. I found just the spot this afternoon around 4 pm on the Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie.

With water levels this low, white gleaming boulders are exposed. It's Rock-tober.

Further upstream, alongside a pool where the water was glassy and the fish were rising, I had tied on some fluorocarbon tippet and a Blue Winged Olive. I was putting the fly in the center of the ring, but there were no takers. I packed up, drove further downstream and took up my position at the head of a pool. Most months of the year this spot is part of a waterfall.

I cast to a nearby spot a couple of times as I scanned the water for rises. I was still sizing up the situation when I cast a little further out and noticed the current took my dry fly into the depths. Before I could get my bearings I felt a strong tug and my 5-wt bowed and arched. A nice, bright rainbow ran and lept.

Finally, aftera bit of a slump, I had a nice 12-inch wild rainbow in the net.

It's been a longtime since I checked the USGS streamflow. The Middle Fork at my location was at 150 CFS and still dropping. Temperatures were in the low 70s. We have had around 70 days of dry weather. We have a burn ban underway after wildfires struck the western slope of the Cascades, a rarity.

Fishing has been tough. Today was a good bounce back. I am planning a trip with the Steelhead guide J.D. Love to the Grande Rhonde later this month. Fingers crossed!

Lake Crescent

My year one anniversary of really learning to flyfish is this month. I still need to reflect on and write about that. It's been an amazing year learning to cast, read water, scout new locations, study fish, etc.

My last two adventures have not been very productive, however. I fished the Cedar River last weekend. I managed to slip away Saturday late afternoon. Water levels were low but it appeared to me that they were releasing water from the dam because the flow was a little more pushy than I had remembered. 

I used an Elk Hair Caddis and caught little 10-inch rainbows. Beautiful, feisty little fish.  As I waded downstream hoping to catch a feeding frenzy or at least a nice sized, my line got caught in a large tree stump that jammed into the middle of the stream. Rather than lose my fly, I waded out to dislodge the little bugger. Slippery rocks and pushy water caused me to force it more than I normally would. I pulled the line and heard a snap.

Snap!

The third segment of my wonderful Trout Unlimited 5-wt Winston rod snapped. It's the first time I've broken any equipment in this first intensive year of flyfishing. I wasn't upset but was disappointed that I didn't simply close the fly. I am now in touch with the Winston rod manufacturers. I will need to ship the whole rod back so they can customize the replacement. Because the rod is registered it should cost just about $50 plus shipping and handling.

On a happier note, I chaperoned my daughter's 7th grade school trip to Lake Crescent, nestled in the Olympic National Park. Below is a photo I took the first evening looking West.

 

 

I was excited for the experience with my daughter and her classmates, but I was also excited to learn that there is a rare sub-species of rainbow trout in Lake Crescent called the Beardslee trout. One of the camp counselors told me that he routinely catches 14-15 inchers, and he told me where to look.

 

In between programs and during free time, I would literally sprint down the lake shore looking for rises.  The counselor said to use large stimulators. At the mouth of Barnes Creek I found several rises near sunset on the first night. While searching the water for the next rise I felt a couple of good strong strikes, but never managed to bring one in. I got several follows, but that was about all the action over the course of several days. The weather shifted and the fish quit biting.

 

While hiking up Storm King Mountain on the second day I snapped the photo below of Lake Crescent from the trail.

 



A Sunny September Sunday

Thomas sat on a VW-sized boulder in the late afternoon sun, and told me the "king of the pool" was right behind yonder rock.

Having bushwacked through a fast-descending mountainside trail and crossed the Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie, I was eager to fish. I barely heard his practiced advice as I started casting to a seam in the middle of the river, which this time of year is a very pleasant 200 cfs. Temperatures were in the mid-70s around 3:30 pm with light winds.

I quickly caught plenty of 8- and 10-inch cuttthroat and rainbows.  Thomas had brought us to a series of very nice pools.

To use an over-used phrase, the water was gin clear and trout were rising nicely to dry flies.  Nothing better.

Thomas (below) had lent me his 3-wt trout rod and he was using his brand new bamboo rod, which has quite a provenance (perhaops another time).

 

 After awhile, I started eying the same spot Thomas had seen immediately upon arrival. His words came back to me, and I cast over the top of currents moving at different speeds and my fly landed just behind a large rock with a nice pool behind it. I didn't quite like the location or the presentation so I cast again.

From the depths darted a good-sized trout like a shark in some Hollywood film. He snatched the fly and dove down behind the rock. I set the hook and watched with great excitement as the largest rainbow I've ever pulled out of the Snoqualmie dove, jumped, banked right and left and ultimately landed in my net (see below).



 



 

I can't even count the number of fish we caught during 4 very active hours on the water. I got my share of small and medium sized cutts and bows. I learned a lot from Thomas and am very appreciative. Hopefully we can do it again another time.

Stripers!

Last night I wrote about my near-miss with a big bluefish  and the lack of striped bass in August. I also wrote about my current book, The Longest Silence, by Thomas McGuane.

As I lay in bed last night reading McGuane's chapter about his fishing trip to the Elizabeth Islands just off Woods Hole, where I am staying, I got a text from my friend Mark. It read, simply, "5 am?"

He had figured out the bite is on at first light in Quick's Hole, a passage between Buzzards Bay and Vineyard Sound that is larger than but behaves very much much like a river.

I eagerly replied, "yes," and continued reading.

Dave ran us through Quick's Hole between Pasque and Nashawena and pulled us into a beautiful, quiet bay on the north side of Nashawena."

So often the books and fish stories we read are about places distant and unlikely to be visited. Yet, this account was just a few miles and a few hours away for me.

Dave spotted a school of stripers...We had tied on Clouser Minnows, a pattern of nearly universal effectiveness, and striped bass see them as tremendous opportunity.

In a beautiful passage, McGuane writes, "I, often confined by riverbanks, was fascinated by this wide-angled view. I soon was made comfortable by our fishing along the rocks, the ocean gulping and foaming around their bases. It looked right when a big green-and-white Deceiver dropped into this turmoil and was drawn into this fishy darkness."

I slept well all night, with all the windows open so the fog could creep around my bedclothes and I could better hear the sonorities of the sea buoy. All night long I received cheerful visits from family ghosts and remembered how I once longed for a single striped bass.

I drifted off to sleep myself and was in Quicks Hole -- a good 30 minute sprint from Falmouth Harbor -- by 5:50 the next morning. The sea birds were diving and the fish erupting all around us. Having lost my Deceiver to the big bluefish the night before, I had rigged up with a large pink Clouser and a stronger test line.  I hooked one fish but he got away.  I cast and cast but could not entice another fish. Suddently the bite was off.

We moved on to Robinson's Hole, the next island over.

"This is what we dream of," I told Mark.

Sea birds were all around us and the fish were feeding in a frenzy right next to the rocky bank. I cast into the middle of the frenzy and finally, a good solid take from a fish I could handle with the right test line. I hauled in a beautiful striped bass. This was not the 28 pounder you see in those fish magazines, but it was a respectable striper caught on a fly.

I hooked another striper in the same spot, but alas that was it. Just as McGuane had written, "a single striped bass."

On the Cape

I am well into my second week on Cape Cod. The Cape League baseball season ended in dramatic fasion (CodBall post still to come), and I have been fishing quite a bit.

August is not prime fishing time on the Cape. The mighty Bluefish are generally plentiful but even they have gone on vacation. The striped bass are the main attraction but they are much further up-Cape and not very active this time of year.

So I have been planning, pondering, casting, changine flies, reading fishing literature and learning a lot about saltwater flyfishing.

My tally at this point is two small Bluefish landed, two bluefish hooked (not landed) and possibly the biggest fish I've ever hooked (got away).

Temperatures were soaring when we got here but things have cooled off.  The first morning, my friend Mark and I went out early in the morning on his boat. We found seagulls diving after baitfish, and we cast into that madness but I failed to land anything. Mark threw a lure out on a spinrod and landed a nice smallish bluefish.  the school was thin so we headed up-Cape to Waquoit where I hooked a small bluefish and had a couple of nice takes but no fish landed.

The next day, I decided to head out on my own along the rocky shore of Nobska Lighthouse point on Martha's Vineyard Sound.  Within three casts I had a small bluefish landed. I used a sinking tip with a small pink clouser.  A half hour later I had a larger bluefish almost to hand after casting 60-70 feet offshore toward a large rock. The fish threw the hook just at the last minute, which is fine.

Then, nothing. 

I returned several times at high tide, low tide, night and day.  Nothing.

Well, not nothing. I have gotten a lot of cuts and bruises. Fishing the rocky coast with its barnacle-laden rocks means that I am scampering and scraping my way from foothold to foothold. My body is covered at the moment with cuts and antibacterial lotion.

Today, temperatures were gorgeous at about 75. My brother-in-law, Rob, took us out south of Woods Hole on his boat. Water temperature were warm and the winds were mild.  We fished a hole that reminded me of a swift western Washington river current and I saw baitfish working.  But still nothing. Nevertheless, this area looked and felt fishy.

I left the hole and walked over to a rocky point that turned into a shallow sandy beach about 50 feet offshore.

After hundreds of fruitless casts this week, I noticed seagulls starting to pay attention to my general area. Suddenly I heard rapid splashes all around me, and then I saw a small bluefish fly past me at eye-level, clearly trying to outswim (and out-leap) a predadtor. I whirled to my right, cast in the direction of the pursuer and wham, one of the hardest takes I've ever experienced. My 7 weight Sage rod bent deeply and felt the weight and fight of a ferocious fish. I assume it was a bluefish but it is possible it was a striped bass in that shallow sandy area.  After a brief fight the line snapped and the fish was gone.

Rather than fight, I should have let the fish peel off line but I didn't.

I pumped my fist and turned to a couple on the beach watching me.

"The one that got away!"

I was fishing the outgoing afternoon tide.  As soon as I returned home, I switched out my 24 pound test line for 60 pound test line. My brother-in-law says bluefish are not leader-shy so I am gearing up for the biggest fish for my remaining days.

As mentioned, I am reading about fishing as well. Thomas McGuane's The Longest Silence (A Life in Fishing) is enjoyable reading and really funny. At the moment I would put McGuane and John Gierach at the top of fishing lit elite.

I also have been very impressed with On The Water (the Anger's Guide). This magazine is well-written and very practical. I would like to see it extend from East Coast to West Coast coverage.

Finally, a dry fly evening

The heat of summer comes to the Seattle area long after desperation deflates even the memory of what a stinging sun can feel like on your skin. We sit out here in the remote lefthand corner of the USA reading about the drought and searing heat of regions far away. We fly fishermen put down the paper and drive through the wet blanket warmth that is our summertime. We pull on GoreTex waders and fish icy rivers that swell with rain and then snowmelt through July.

And then an evening like last night happens.

The heat on my car thermometer showed 89 at about 7:15 pm (today's Seattle Times records 92). The Cedar River was down to 230 cfs. Remember that early in the fishing season I caught a Cedar River cutt at 800 cfs.

After a neighborhood pig roast, I arrived on the river at about 8 pm and the light was fine but quickly diminishing. I chose a section of the river that was easy to access from the trail but hidden from view. It had a relatively shallow bank and then deep pools toward the center of the river where the flow was steady but not too strong. I climbed over a few large boulders and sat atop one about 10 yards out into the stream. There I had good room for my backcast and could see the surface of the water in the twilight.

I had a small nymph tied on already and I cast that a few times. Nothing. Thanks to the piles of reading I've done throughout the season, I quickly realized these were the right conditions for dry flies.

I tied on a cahill or something like a pale morning dunn. Without even trying very hard I had an 8 inch cutt. The fish in this river, no matter their size, will fight like nobody's business due in large part to the cold water and good oxygenated flows. I cast a few more times in the same area and brought in some larger cutts, maybe 10 inches.

I began to notice good rises in the middle of the river so I cast out there, mending my line in the air so that the fly got a nice long drift with the flyline behind the fly thus avoiding the drag of the current.

The fish were clearly hungry, rising for my fly on nearly every cast. Within a few minutes I had a hard strike and a good sized rainbow on the line. I have stopped stripping in line for every fish I catch and have gone to reeling them in, which is more fun and has the added advantage of not having flyline all over the water once they're netted.

The 11-12 inchers are not fat but they are meaty and colorful. Whereas I failed time and again to set the hook on dry flies earlier this summer, this time my timing and technique seemed to work. I used smaller hooks (size 18) and I waited a little longer to raise the rod. The result was 4 rainbows caught, each about 30 feet out in the stream on rises to my dry fly. I used both the cahill and an Elk Hair Caddis.

Walking back to the car in the near-darkness, I talked with a couple of other fly fishermen who were also loading up to head home. They had not done so well using streamers. The habits of sub-surface fishing die hard, even in the blaze of summer.

The first photo below is a cutt in the net. The second is very dark but you can make out one of hte 12-inch rainbows.

Lessons learned

It is mid-July and I am just a month away from completing my first year of intensive fly fishing. This weekend I discovered a few things about my education.

I fished Lake Sammamish, Snoqualmie and Cedar River this weekend -- each just for a few hours. What I have discovered is that I now know how to catch fish, mostly small but beautiful trout in moving water. Catching bigger fish requires more strategic thinking and technical skill, which clearly I am still developing.

Take Sunday evening for example. I was on the Cedar River which has fallen to below 400 cfs. I entered the water having already tied a dry fly and a nymph tandem. I immediately noticed fish rising and cast toward them. Nothing.

I switched to a Stimulator-type pattern and got trout to attack the fly. I had not seen this kind of action before on a river. What I discovered was that I was acting like a spectator, observing the fish rise and attack the fly but failing to set the hook. It was just so fun to watch them come from no where and boil up around the fly. After a dozen casts I finally set the hook and caught a nice little cutthroat which I quickly returned to the cold waters.

I fished for a couple of hours and just enjoyed watching the rises without ever setting the hook. I did have a larger one on but he got loose and I saw a considerable silver flash flee from my fly to deeper water. I have some work to do.

On Saturday night I caught 4-5 small cutthroat on the Snoqualmie near the Fall City bridge. I also brought my 6-weight which I had rigged with a steelhead streamer. I cast far and wide but never had a strong strike.

Looking back over my biggest successes, there are two lessons I need to heed.  The first is to do a little more homework. Talk with fly shops, get local knowledge. The other is to get some polarized glasses so I can see and anticipate rises more promptly. It's almost too late once you see the rise.

Another lesson is to be more open to conversation with people while gearing up or down at the car. I have tended to be pretty guarded but very often friendly people are eager not just to ask questions but to share information. Yesterday a young fisherman stopped by the car to ask me how things had gone. I shared with him where I had fished, what I had used and what techniques were (and were not) working. He reciprocated by sharing with me a secret pool a mile downstream from where I fished. He pulled out his cell phone and showed me a spectuacular rainbow trout he had landed just a few days prior.

Lake Sammamish

My son and I headed out to Lake Sammamish tonight after dinner. He threw a Rooster Tail while I waded out with a dry and nymph tandem.

The water was rippled from the wind so I could not see any surface activity. Several months ago I had come to the same spot and saw fish dimpling the surface.

After about 15 minutes of casting, Ryan was working a backlash out of his reel and said, "dad, did you see that? Something just surfaced right over there." He pointed and I immediately cast to a point about 30 yards off shore. Two casts later, FISH ON!

I believe this is a kokanee, a land-locked sockeye salmon of about 10-11 inches. I could be mistaken with the identification but I am pretty certain it is a small salmon of some sort.

A nice way to end the weekend.

Tour of the Snoqualmies

Finally, sweaty waders. While the rest of the country has swealtered, Seattle has enjoyed mild temperatures, but today it got a little clamy in waders and boots as morning temperatures reached into the mid-70s.

I was up at 5:30 and on the Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie at Old Reliable early. Water temperatures were in the mid-50s and flows were relatively high, though there were nice pools in my favorite spot. I tied on a March Brown with a dropper and caught 4 nice little cutthroat trout in just over an hour. One was about 10 inches and the others closer to 8. As I've said before, fish on this river are notoriously small, but setting is lovely.

I decided to change locations and drove to the North Fork. I found a nice shallow area with a pebbly bottom and cast out into the current. I caught a nice 12" cutt that got loose at my feet. He hit hard and actually jumped out of the water.

I walked further downstream and crossed several shallow islands to get out into an area with numerous runs spilling into deep pools. Using the same tandem I felt a hard strike and, again, the fish jumped elegantly. I later found that he went for the March Brown but I foul-hooked him on the side with the nymph. The hook was not deep and he came free easily. I did take a quick photo (see below). Also, below that is a photo of the location on the North Fork (Mt. Si is in the background).

I had hoped to hit all the Snoqualmies today but missed the South Fork and the Main. Next time.

Flow on the Middle Fork was about 1800 cfs and just under 500 cfs on the North Fork.

Tacoma Trout

As has been my practice this baseball season, I dropped my son off for his team's pre-game warm-up and hustled alone to the nearest fishing hole I could find.  The night before his games I do some online sleuthing.  I Google the field location and then search a satellite map of nearby waters. I've fished rivers, ponds and oceans near his games.

Yesterday I found a spot on the southern end of Puget Sound that looked promising. A public access beach was just about 10 minutes from the ballfield.

I pulled into the parking lot and was gearing up when I caught out of the corner of my eye an older gentlemen approaching from the street.

"You ever fish here before?" he drawled.

Very often people come up and ask me stupid questions like am I going fishing (as I stand there in my waders holding a fishing rod.) So at first I showed disinterest in a conversation.

But he stood his ground and there was something in his question that caused me to look up.

"Do you know these waters?" I asked.

"Yep, been fishing here for years. That's my house right across the street."

I looked over to find a tidy little house with a nice garden overlooking the Sound. His wife was out watering the lawn.

As he described for me where to fish I detected in his accent something that felt very much like home.

"Where are you from?" I asked.

He laughed.

"I'm from Oklahoma."

Turns out he is from Apache, Oklahoma, very nearby where my family is from in southern Oklahoma. Suddenly we were kin and I let down my guard.  We shook hands and talked for awhile.  After sharing stories, we gave each other a friendly wave and I headed off across some railroad tracks to the shoreline where he had pointed me.

Using a small shrimp pattern and a 6 wt., I cast out into the outgoing tide around noon. It was several hours before low-tide. I worked along the shore from north to south. As I approached a small point, I cast out further and mid-way back felt my first bite. It felt weak and I suspected a perch or something small.

Just then I saw a good size searun cutthroat surface to my left. I quickly cast just ahead of where I saw the head and got a take, but no fish.  I immediately cast again a few feet in front of my last cast and FISH ON!

I recalled that there was a small wind knot in my leader and so I was careful. I stripped in line and let the fish run whenever it wanted.  The initial fight was less than I expected but once he got closer and caught sight of me he dove and made a couple of hard runs.

I netted a 14-15" beautiful cutt and quickly got a measurement on the flyrod. These fish are protected so I got him quickly into the water and watched him swim away.

By then it was almost game time so I scurried up the embankment, and ran back to the car along the railroad tracks.  My Okie buddy was in the yard. He set us garden hose down and came over when he saw my excitement. He was thrilled to see some photos and congratulated me on a job well done. I told him I'd be back some time and he said I knew where to find them now.

The Farmington

This story is about my fishing trip to the Farmington River in Connecticut, but like so often with me it begins with a baseball story.

Several years ago I was sitting with Dave Valle, a former Major League catcher, in the stands of an amateur field in San Pedro de Macoris, the Dominican Republic. The DR, and San Pedro de Macoris more particularly, have become famous because it is where the Big Leagues is finding many of its biggest talents.

I sat there innocently watching what I took to be a typical baseball game, but Dave was seeing more than I could ever see by scanning the field pitch-by-pitch, movement-by-movement.  He was a real professional taking in a scene he had seen and learned from hundreds if not thousands of times before. He noticed the first baseman out of position, and the batters tendencies and the foibles of the pitcher and the athleticism of middle infielder.

It was kind of like that fishing with my guide on the Farmington.  Shawn Britton stood waist-deep in the Farmington one morning this week absorbing in a flash 5-6 different hatches, fish rises, wildlife, my sorry casting, currents and wind direction. I was noticing one thing while he took in dozens of things. A true pro, and a nice guy as well.

We didn't catch any fish together, but my only regret is that I didn't set my rod down and just learn from him. He is the buggiest guy I've ever met. He could spot bugs all around him and then quickly match them with a fly in his box.

At one point he asked, as I was furiously casting, if I ever shook trees.  What he meant was do I ever take the time to shake a tree to see what insects will fall, thereby attracting fish. Why didn't I just set the rod down and go do that with him?  I would  have learned something. If you're lucky enough to book time with Shawn it's like enrolling in a fly fishing course. He knows these waters -- not just the currents and the rocks -- but the natural history and the cultural history -- like the back of his hand.

This was my first fly fishing experience on the East Coast. When I called a few fly shops in the Boston area to enquire about where to fish on my day off, the Farmington kept coming up as a top recommendation. It has brown and brook trout as well small Atlantic salmon that the federal government is trying to reintroduce.

There is a great book on fishing the Farmington at the Farmington River Anglers Association website. Shawn is one of the writers and editors.

I booked a room at the Old Riverton Inn, a historic, care-worn fishing lodge just across the lane from the Farmington. With its old bridges, colonial houses and white picket fences, this is a charming New England fishing experience.

The water was ice cold and clear in late June. The river is not wide and is very wadeable. The flows are good but not too swift.

The evening before meeting Shawn I caught a few small brown trout beneath the bridge just across from the Inn. And then in the afternoon after Shawn and I said goodbye I caught this nice brown trout swinging a fly at People's State Forest. This was my first decent brown trout ever -- about 12-13 inches. I was using one of Shawn's terrestrials -- a small black fly with white wings.

Earlier in the morning, as Shawn was giving me a tour of the river, we saw this beaver which you can see swiming from the left bank of the Farmington.

Side Trip to Red Brook
I wanted to mention that I stopped in Wareham, Mass, on my way to the Cape to check out a small fishery that Trout Unlimited has been excited about.  The local TU is reintroducing searun brook trout in the tiny, scenic brook which runs into Buttermilk Bay (just off Buzzards Bay). the section I walked is part of the Lyman Trust.

Find Red Brook road off the Cranberry Highway and you will find the reserve.

Check out this website for a description of the project to save this historic, endangered species of salters.



Woods Hole

My brother-in-law and I got up early this morning and hit the Cape Cod waters just off Woods Hole, Mass. Rob has fished Vineyard Sound and beyond since he was a kid, and has done some guiding here over the years.

Within minutes he put me over a school of feeding Bluefish. The sea birds were diving all around us so we knew there was bait in the area. I used my 8-wt Sage with a yellowish deceiver fly and about 16 lb leader and tippet. After a couple of casts I saw a fish rise to the surface. By the next cast I had my first Bluefish on a fly (see below). This blue was on the smaller end of the spectrum, but put up a nice fight.  The next one I played on the reel and the third snapped off the leader just at the boat.

After that we fished in the hole and in the surrounding islands but didn't find any stripers. The wind picked up to about 20 knots and we called it a day.  I felt fortunate to be on the water early on a Friday morning.



Father's Day Trout

A month ago I wrote about a rainbow I caught on Mother's Day on the Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie. Today I caught a Father's Day rainbow on Lake Bennington in Walla Walla with my son.

After his baseball tournament in the Tri-Cities, we drove to Walla Walla to watch our Sweets play a 5 pm game against the Portland Lobos. At the end of the game we played catch, and then I drove to Mill Creek to cast the flyrod at sundown. Mill Creek was closed to fishing so we drove the 1.5 miles to nearby Lake Bennington.

I could see trout jumping and dimpling the surface.  After a few casts I noticed a moderate-sized rainbow swirling to my right. I cast the Hare's Ear a few times in the general direction and surprised my son with a quick catch.

"There it is," I said as I pulled him from the blue-grey water just after sunset.

Ryan snapped the photo below as I was casting.

The Skagit River

The Dolly Varden trout apparently earned its name in the 1870s when the name essentially meant fashionable. A naturalist of that era called it "the handsomest trout."

After a day of chasing Dollies with my guide Andrew Grillos on the Skagit River in north central Washington, I couldn't agree more. The fish is so pleasing to the eye that I couldn't take my eyes off of it.

I took this photo of my first-ever Dolly, taken on my 6-weight flyrod less than an hour into my all day float down the Skagit.

As memorable as it looks, the Dolly Varden may be even better remembered for its take.  The fish bent my rod to the cork and fought hard through a series of runs before being netted.

The Dolly Varden is a char and also known as a Bull Trout. They live in both fresh and salt water.

I took off work yesterday in order to really give myself over to learning a new river. I had intended to fish the Yakima, but with water levels rising Andrew suggested the Skagit, which had not occured to me. With his recommendation, I eagerly agreed.

The section of the Skagit I fished near Rockport is designated a Wild & Scenic River and is located just on the border of the North Cascades National Park. It is jaw-dropping beautiful and many miles away from cell phone coverage.

We anchored the boat in a shallow where the water was moving at about walking pace. I caught my first two on my own single-handed rod, an Orivs Access with floating line, a standard leader and some tippet.

With the glow of some early success, I bombed the banks as we floated to another stony bank where I got my first lesson in two-handed Spey casting.

Spey casting made sense to me immediately.  It felt comfortable and on a large river like the Skagit you want to cast larger Spey flies greater distances.

My set-up, which I will be assembling soon in order to continue my education, was an Echo 7-weight with Spey line called Skagit Compact 540 and a running line of Berkeley Big Cat 40 (Solar Collector Green) and a T8 sink tip by Rio. I used a Lamsen Light Speed 4 reel.  The leader is Maxima (2 feet of 20 pound followed by 2 feet of 12 pound). Andrew tied for me a black and blue maribou/ostrich Spey fly.

I don't yet know the distinction (perhaps I will write about it in a future post) between straight Spey casting and Skagit style Spey casting.  But I know there is a difference.  I cast both over the right and the left shoulder and worked on a couple different cast styles. I have to say that I enjoyed Spey casting more than regular casting and look forward to improving.

The results with a Spey rod were quite good.  I cast out into the current, walked a few steps downstream while it floated down and then waited for the fly to swing. A few takes were on the swing and others were at the bottom of the swing when I would strip in line once or twice.

I landed 8 very nice Dollies and hooked about 4 others that I didn't land. The largest was about 24 inches and the smallest was in the 18 inch ranch. These are strong, colorful, muscular fish that were really fun to pursue and quite attractive to admire.

Below is a stream flow chart that shows the rising and falling nature of the water level throughout a day due to water discharge from the Diablo Lake dam.

 

Touchet, Walla Walla

Last night, after fishing Big Four and taking in Opening Day of the Walla Walla Sweets, I wrote down the following list: Dayton, Lewis and Clark State Park, Waitsburg, Whitman Mission and a campground near the turnoff from US 12 on the way to Tri-Cities.

I was finding the fishing around Walla Walla to be so productive that I needed a bucket list to keep straight where I was going.  I followed the list exactly.

Today was fishing's Opening Day. Many rivers open on the first Saturday of June.

I got up early again and drove to Dayton, where the Touchet River cuts through the middle of town.  Some Opening Day. The wind was howling and the rain coming down steadily. I climbed down a steep riverbed and the wind most went away. I was well protected from the rain, and I was ready to fish.  I had an Elk Hair Caddis as a strike indicator and a beadhead Prince Nymph for a dropper. I saw several pools behind boulders, and within a few casts I was into some nice 11- and 12-inch rainbows. They were hungry and struck hard. I didn't bring them all to hand but they hit virtually ever cast.

Unfortunately, my camera had a smudge so pardon the photo above. This was typical of the fish I pulled up from behind boulders and in riffles. Very fun, very colorful and very strong fighers.

By mid-morning I left Dayton and headed for Lewis and Clark State Park which is between Dayton and Waitsburg. It's a beautiful setting, but I didn't get a bite. Seems the fish are more in the upper regions of the Touchet.

Waitsburg was also a bust. The Touchet cuts through the center of this little town as well but its really brushy and the water has few breaks. I barely bothered to cast. Onto the Walla Walla River.

Just past the Whitman Mission West of Walla Walla off US 12, I parked near the second bridge. the current was moving pretty swiftly. I walked up and down a stretch of the river, casting and high-sticking. Nothing.  I went to the other side of the bridge and saw this nice eddy behind the boulder in this photo.  I was using a Hares Ear and a Copper John but was not successful. I switched to a brown, white, black and olive Wooly Bugger. I let the current suck it behind the boulder a few times trying different retrieve speeds and action.

I felt a little take and tried it again. Bam! A very hard strick, the rod bent over and I saw the fish's silver side flash in the tea-green water.  A 17-inch, muscular Squawfish (northen pikeminnow) was the result. The northern pikeminnow is a Cyprinid, which is related to the great Indian Masheer, which I had wanted to catch on my recent trip to India. Despite the fish's undesireability, I was glad to cross another species off my list of fish caught on a fly.

I still need to fish the Tucannon and Mill Creek. My sense is that the fishing around Walla Walla is probably unappreciated.

Big Four

I am in eastern Washington today for Opening Day of the Walla Walla Sweets. Ever since the beginning of this venture, I've been curious about fishing in the area. Afterall, Walla Walla is a tribal word for waters.

I rose early and drove East of Walla Walla, past Dayton and into the Wooten Wildlife Area (which is also known as Wooten Game Park and Wooten Camp).  From Walla Walla through Dayton and out to Idaho is an ocean of beautiful rolling, agricultural hills.  There is no cell phone coverage once you leave Dayton.

Today is June 1, and tomorrow is the first Saturday of June which is when the rivers open for fishing. Even though I followed the trout and steelhead-rich Tucannon River for miles, it was off limits until tomorrow.

Instead, I decided to fish a flyfishing-only pond called Big Four Lake, which is located within the boundary of Wooten, and is also just inside the Umatilla National Forest. I had read an excellent primer on flyfishing in this region, and it had recommended this lake, which was perfect for today. Tomorrow, when rivers are open, I hope to fish one or more of the following before returning home: Walla Walla River, Touchet River, Mill Creek and/or the Tucannon.

The wildlife area is quite remote so make sure you have gas, water and food.  There is a grocery called Last Resort that opens around 9 am. It's friendly and has both fishing gear and groceries. There is a KOA campground there as well.

Once you are deep into the wildlife area you will start to notice campgrounds and some small ponds (they are called lakes).  Parking for Big Four is on the left side down in a ravine so you have to look carefully. Once you park, proceed through the woods to the Tucannon.  You must ford this stream (photo below) to find the lake on the other side. Had it been just a little higher and swifter I would not have attempted it. But I also saw some pretty old guys crossing the stream.

The lake is picturesque, and the fish were rising. It started off a little drizzly but the clouds cleared and it reached the mid-80s.  I immediately got into some small rainbows but they increased in size and strength of strike throughout the day.  It did slow down between 10 and noon but then picked back up until 2 pm when I left.

I fished a Foamulator (like a Stimulator) as a strike indicator. I trailed that with a Hares Ear, which worked well.  When things slowed I switched to an Elk Hair Caddis trailed by a beaded Prince Nymph.  Both were really fun.  I could see the larger trout find the indicator and either strike it or follow the nymph.  I really learned to sight fish for the first time.

Average size was 12-13 inches. I had one that was close to 20-inches.

This one (above) was 18-19-inches.

Traver Fly Fishing Writing Award

Fingers crossed.

I've entered the prestigious Robert Traver Fly-Fishing Writing Award, offered by the John D. Voelker Foundation in partnership with Fly Rod and Reel Magazine.

For old timers and film buffs, Justice Voelker's pen name was Robert Traver .  Traver wrote Anatomy of a Murder, which led to the Jimmy Stewart movie by the same name. I have known Traver more for his excellent trout fishing books, including Trout Madness.

I am now reading an anthology of Traver Award winners, In Hemingway's Meadow, which I recommend.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Silver and Cedar

I fished all three days of this Memorial Day weekend, darting between my son's baseball games and three new fisheries. 

I was skunked at Kayak Point near Marysville on the Puget Sound. I went looking for searun cutts and searun bull trout.  I saw some dimples on the surface and even had a small fish take my popper, but no bites and no fish. The day was warm and so swimmers and boaters basically ruined the opportunity. Note to beach people. If you see a guy fishing please throw your rocks in some other direction.

My two other fishing opportunities were more productive and more enjoyable.

Silver Lake is located in Everett, Washington. It is nestled into a neighborhood and has recently been stocked with triploid rainbow trout. I saw one of the big ones jump. I didn't get into any trout, but I did catch my first crappie (I think it's a white crappie) on a fly. Below you can see an area of water I fished and below that the little crappie I took on just my second cast with a Hare's Ear/Copper John nymph combo. He took the trailing Hare's Ear.

I also fished a section of the Cedar River near Landsburg. I hiked a nice trail for about a half hour and climbed down the riverbank to a section where the 800 cfs water pooled nicely near some fallen trees. The water looked perfect for holding trout away from the rushing current to my left. I precariously climbed over tree branches and hugged the bank until I got good footing and could cast about 40 feet into the pool, which made a small cove partially covered by brush. I half expected to find one of the reported 12-13 inch rainbows in this secluded area.

I started off with a March Brown but switched to the trusty Hare's Ear. I had felt a few nibbles and then finally was rewarded with a hard strike from a small but beautiful cutthroat.

The photos below show the Hare's Ear and the stretch of water I fished.  The final photo is taken underwater. Notice the prominent cutthroat coloring below the jaw.