Fly Fishing for January Trout...

If you know where to drive and more importantly where to stop, you might get lucky and find yourself on a desert stream standing in a sunbeam with a hatch popping and no wind blowing and hungry trout all about. I got lucky but that's probably just because yesterday was my birthday and mother earth felt like celebrating right along with me.

I left Boise today tired of the fog-smog and headed out and up a bit and over some too, to my favorite little river in sage brush country where I guessed the sun might be shining. Spring always springs early there it seems and today was no exception. Shoulder-warming temperatures in the mid 40's, bright sun and only a whisper of a breeze quickly faded any memories of dreary Boise sacked by inversion.

A tasty flat bread breakfast sandwich digested as I drove east into the sun, past cattle ranches and dairies, under train tracks, over canals, down dirt roads and through a gate or two. A short walk to the waters edge brought a cheeky smile to my face as I quickly saw that here and there trout were feeding at the surface especially in tails and riffles. "Hot damn" I hooted to myself. No wonder my casting arm was itchy and achy when I woke up this morning.  Much like a divining rode seeks water, my arm it seems seeks fish. The hatch was on! Little gray midges by the thousands drifted by, struggling to free themselves from their underwater exoskeleton bathing suits. I snapped a few photos and a video but they do no justice to the frenzy of molting insects struggling to get free and join their friends in the whirling cloud around my head.

I quickly tied on some 5X tippet and began attaching size 18 and 20 midge and emerger patterns. The fish were in a steady feeding rhythm and lined up like cows in a feed lot, several fish wide and deep in the best troughs. I was so busy enjoying the whole entomological event that I hadn't even made a cast. I stopped my camera work chuckled to myself about how funny I must look with my fly rod pinned between my knees, camera in hand, head down and about a foot off the water.  Whether it was from poor selection or the sheer number of other food choices, I could not entice a fish up for the life of me. So I changed tactics and tied on a pheasant tail and trailed it with a silver bead headed zebra, which drifted down nicely in the 3 feet of slowing tail water I was targeting.
"Happy Birthday me!" I chirped as my indicator was dunked on the second drift and began zipping up stream. I'd made a pretty easy move in the chess game of fisherman versus fish; stick the nymph right in the trout's nose just like it was floating off the bottom, helpless and ready to eat.  If something works, repeat it. I did and one chunky rainbow after another tugged my line down and over and across some to.

After a while I got adventurous and tied on a small crayfish pattern that I had picked up at the BVFF expo. It looked like a winner the moment I spied it and the biggest trout of the day, about 17 inches, made a go at it and ended up in my net. "Smile for the camera!" I will try to find out what this crayfish pattern is called but in general it is slightly smaller than most, with a sturdy foam-like body and less flamboyant colors.

Desert Waters and Trout

I've spent many hours with this river in the desert. I have braved frosty, silent winters and crunched through the ice just to listen to the little river bubble it's song. The rivers speckled inhabitants glide motionless near the bottom, surfing cold quicksilver waters, surviving.  Spring brings birds and buds and ticks. I pause often to admire the spring flowers that paint the banks crisp green, sulfur and pink. My waders disappear into muddy waters that scoured the bank, tearing down cottonwood trees in a rush to the Snake. Summer brings feverish growth but I pout in frustration as demand for water drops the river's flow to a trickle. My chunky speckled trout retreat or die and water become silent and warm. I must wait impatiently for fall and it's fading colors, for it's cool nights, for frost and the rebirth of my favorite river.  Each year I fear my desert trout will not return but with my gratitude..they do!  

Private Property Invasion Stifles Fly Fishing

A tranquil morning begins with fog lifting off the North Fork of the Payette ten river miles downstream from the namesake lake. Sadly, it is becoming increasingly more difficult to access beautiful places like this as river banks become private property, exclusive use by residents only or private recreation clubs. Gone are the days when you could stop a rancher in the field and ask for permission to fish through his land. Now miles and miles of Idaho river banks are owned or at least bordered by exclusive gated neighborhoods.
I spent 5 days in McCall, ID this summer. My initial excitement and hope of exploring the North Fork from Payette Lake to Cascade lake quickly turned into frustration as I encountered gates, signs, and warnings that made access to the river maddening. I found only two designated access points along the entire river, excluding bridges which provided just a handful more.

I hope the future of fly fishing is not, "Recreational fishing for the few and wealthy" while the masses are crammed into city parks and ponds. I better brush up on my bluegill and carp fishing I guess. Exclusionary trends like this remind me of western Europe where people have to pay private families or clubs for the access to fish. I value my public land. It is as American as apple pie. Should be not protect our right to access it?

Secrets don't make friends!

Someone once told me "secrets don't make friends," but secrets sure are handy when you have a favorite fishing spot, especially if one wants to trade secrets like fishing currency. I admit, I don't appreciate when the shoe is on the the other foot and I am the one being excluded by the good old boys in the know. It seems guarding ones treasure is a necessary evil.

I reached my little river at 2 pm today, leaving me just enough time to fish the short winter hours until sunset and make it home for dinner around 7 pm.

It's an all rainbow show as I crisscross the serpentine banks sight casting to rising fish. It's fall, 45 degrees and a light but continuous mayfly hatch keeps the fish popping the top water for more than 4 hours. On closer insecto-inspection, the mayfly was gray with a brilliant green sheen to the thorax. Honestly, everything I tried, (duns, streamers, stimulator's) worked to some degree but a simple Pink Albert seemed irresistible. I landed 40 fish, lost a few, and tickled some that splashed away. Most of the rainbows ranged from 14-8 inches but all were lovely, stout and great fighters. I did catch one that had a hint of cutthroat judging by the salmon-yellow slashes under the gill.

A special thanks to the rancher that I met last March on my secret stream. He told me to come back in the fall and he guaranteed results. I had a wicked good time flipping the fly on the foam lines and never saw a soul.    

My New Fishing Buddy.

   With a bit of luck and three hours of planning, my baby girl and I finally enjoyed our first fly fishing day on the Boise. Sawyer did a great job blowing spit bubbles while I looked for fish rising for those annoyingly small tricos. In the pic below she spots a crayfish scurrying across the sand bar. That's my girl, already looking for potential bait choices. I hope she loves to fly fish as much as I do and we have countless adventures together. If her love isn't fishing, then I'll do my best to support her and I'm sure I can still find a fishing analogy for almost any hobby or occupation she chooses.  Whats working: the Boise is hot right  now with both nymphs and top water flies catching trout. My favorite two floating flies are the sulfur and black Comparadun, size 18 (to mimmick the tricos) and a Parachute Adams with a tented wing, size 12. I've had luck early morning, afternoon and evening probably due to the cloud cover. Feeding tends to die down for a few hours sporadically throughout the day but if you're willing to wait it out, another hatch will bring the fish up again. As a side note, browns are being stocked in the Boise river now and I am starting to see more through town. In the past, I found most browns down stream from Eagle. On 28th of Sept., I hooked a little 8 inch brown just above the Barber Park bridge so I know they have made up at least that far.    

Stalking the Bank for Brook Trout

Brook trout on a pink albert

Little, high altitude creeks in Idaho offer a unique challenge and amazing scenery if you are will to put some time into finding them. Lucky for we Idahoans, turning north at almost any intersection off Interstate 84 will land us in amazing high country, full of small and median sized streams. If you get lucky, you might even find a little gem of a creek full of hungry brook trout.
Grassy banks, submerged log jams, crystal clear water and tight spaces make small stream fishing a different beast and a fun new challenge in my opinion. I try to stay on the bank, walking on my knees and stalking my fish much like a heron. The on-the-bank technique helps me preserve these fragile ecosystem and prevents the stream from becoming murky with debris. I suppose I do my fair share of mashing the bank down...sorry little wild flower. Terrestrial fly patterns usually work great for these streams including, ant, beetle, hoppers and crickets.
 Generally, brook trout will take just about anything they can fit in their mouth if well presented. I like selecting flies with higher visibility (like the pink albert this little brookie hit)  or a colorful terrestrial and then go up in size until I can see it well between blades of grass or behind logs.  Small creeks require accuracy and stealth and some advanced fisherman prefer a shorted, lighter fly rods for these situations.  I caught this beauty on a tributary of the Payette River near Smiths Ferry, ID.

Owyhee's Browns are Hopping for Hoppers

Brown on a hopper

If you fly fish and live in or around Boise, then I can safety bet you've made the "way earlier than I want to be up" morning dash to the Owyhee river in Oregon. I've done it. In fact, driving nearly asleep at the butt-crack-of-dawn in order to beat my fellow fisherman to the river seems to be the modus operandi.  Unfortunately, no matter how early I leave and arrive there is always some guy with a felt hat, smoking a cigar, standing in what I claim as my favorite fishing spot. Damn it...again, does this old timer ever rest? Tardiness is the mother of invention the saying goes for procrastinators like myself. On this day my late arrival meant fly fishing where I normally don't, not because I had a choice but because all the "good" spots had bipeds standing in them.  As luck would have it my late arrival would actually pay off and I finally got my perfect day of fishing on the "O". The fish were generous and active, the weather, drizzly and overcast with a slight breeze and my fishing compadre (my father-in-law) was great company. The water was clearer than I am used to seeing this time of year, not the pea green I am accustomed to. The clear water did not make the fish any more picky however but rather made it easier for me to spot them  basking in the shallows. Another bonus is that the clarity provided for some amazing pre-strike stalking action. What a thrill it was to see fish rising off the stream bed to attack our flies or merely give them a sniff then glide back down.   I found it difficult to time the slow, deliberate feeding the browns exhibited today and my jitters probably cost me 6-8 fish.

Big and Ugly on Big Ugly flies!

 What worked. Honestly, just about anything that normally works on the "O" worked today. We started with zebra midges (red and black) and skwala off the bottom. then two PMD (18-20) hatches in the late morning,  provided fast action on top with rust colored flies or emerger patterns.

My favorite moments of fishing today involved casting big ugly hoppers onto lazy pool like stretches of the river, even in places where I didn't see fish feeding on top. I'd plop the hopper down near the far bank and give it 20-30 ft of natural drift and before I knew it a set of rubbery yellow lips would emerge to suck down the fly like a sinkhole.  It was a great day and I was nodding off on the ride home like a tired puppy. Thanks for driving Dave!

I added a link to the USGS river flow webpage. The Owyhee is easy to wade in all but the deepest holes at 150 cfs.  Get out there and enjoy casting big terrestrials for big fish (late summer is best).

http://waterdata.usgs.gov/usa/nwis/uv?site_no=13183000