Stalking trout with dry flies. Floating, wading, and camping along the rivers. Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming. Winter trips to Mexico.

Oct 4, 2015

A Slough Quickie

There's some in there.  Rising in a couple spots.  Cloudy and windy.  Water very low.  Nice to know.


Oct 3, 2015

Can It Ever be "Too Good?"

We all talk about and dream of the day.  Its a cloudy day.  The hatch is heavy.  No wind.  Not crowded.  Pods of fish rising all up and down the river in a methodical, deliberate rhythm.   Quality fish too.

Then it actually happens.  As it starts out, the brain says, "Here we go!"  We position and cast at the first big risers, and they are fairly willing takers because there's still not a lot of bugs to choose from.  Emergers and cripples work best.  After a couple of fish, there's now multiple targets.  Really fun, and we begin to choose which target to cast to based on the drift, the frequency of the rise, and the perception of which one might be the largest. Shortly the hatch is fully underway, and we're busy with this fish and that fish.  As the hatch peaks, the fish now pile up in the riffles, seams, and tops and bottoms of the pools.  For miles up and down the river, there's fish rising seemingly everywhere.  If you cast anything even close to food into the pod, and get any kind of decent drift, its another take and another fish on.  Hours after it started, the water is covered in bugs, mostly dead ones. Easy pickings for the trout, which only have to lift and open to get a mouthful.

Finally it becomes almost assured, and there is no hunt, no stalk, and very little guess work about the fly.  I wonder when enough is enough.  It has happened both of the last two afternoons.  By 4 pm, I just look around, cast into a group, and fish on.  Over and over.  How many is enough?  I don't know.  But when it just became routine, going through the motions, I put my rod on the pontoon, and rowed to the take-out.  On the way, I floated past pod after pod of hungry heads eating like it was the last meal they'd ever see.  Could have caught fish well into the darkness.  But what's the point?  Be careful what you wish for.  It was just "too good!"

But I'll always still remember it, especially when again staring onto the placid water of no hatches and no rising fish, dreaming once again of the cloudy day when the bugs popped forever and trout were rising everywhere.  Maybe I just can't be pleased, but I can always dream.

Dead bugs (Baetis), MO trout favorites

What you do after dropping the lid (that sinks!) to your floatant in the drink.

Sep 24, 2015

The Ranch and Mahoganys. 380cfs, to 225 on 9-22, to 200

The Ranch.  Lots and lots of eats, from the trout that is.  Bringing one to hand, that's another story.  A story of weeds, eats and false-eats, pulled hooks, and refusals.  Win some, lose more.  Oh, but casting to rising rainbows all morning and into the afternoon on the hallowed waters of the Henry's Fork.  Easier wading at low flows now for an older guy.  First the crippled emerger, then the emerging dun, the ant for some "wet rock" fish, and finally the beetle back up the bank.  Like clockwork.  Long leaders, with long tippets.  Hunt, position, and cast.  Perfect or nothing. 

Snow on the Peaks on Sept. 20

Mahogany Dun

First on the Ranch Most Mornings

First Here Every Morning!

Thick Weeds at First Bend

Evening Road-Side Spot

Thanks Mr. Fish

Until Next Time