raposaNegra
12-14-2004, 02:40 AM
The morning sky was grey and murky as I loaded my gear into my car. The weather couldn’t decide if it preferred snow or slush or rain so a light combination of all three emerged from the gloom. For me this is perfect fishing weather as in these climes morning yuck often burns off, promoting phenomenal BWO and midge hatches in the afternoon. I hoped that today would prove to be such a day.
The drizzle continued on the drive up to (name changed to protect the innocent) and the snow on the side of the road grew deeper as I slowly climbed into the higher elevations. The turn off at Spring Creek Bridge was pretty slushy and the road around the first bend was a smooth and as icy as a skating rink. The previous week’s cycle of thawing days and freezing nights turned the accumulated snow into a five inch thick sheet of solid ice. I shifted into low, engaged the 4 wheel drive.... and crept ever so slowly up the road to one of my favorite fishing spots.
The hike out to the river was fairly uneventful. A little slush, a little mud, and a little dodging through the brush brought me to the river bank. A flock of swans exploded into the sky as I arrived, the rhythm of their beating wings reverberated through the river bottoms. I looked up and down the river, there was not another soul for miles, but as I hiked up to the first hole of the day, I noted a disappointing absence of rising fish.
The fish on (name changed to protect the innocent) are far from shy. The will generally stack up in every riffle, rain snow or shine. The tail ends of riffles here are often awash with riotously rising fish, greedily nipping everything that floats by. One of my best days ever on this river was on the day after thanksgiving two years previously. It was snowing sideways, but the fish were rising to BWOs like there was a great famine or a dearth of insects. But today, my 18 BWO hackle stacker elicited no reposes. I decided to pause and study the water. Five minutes of intense observation noted no dimples from rising fish. My expectations for a day of dry fly fishing, dashed. This required a change of tactics.
I tied on a dual nymph rig consisting of two different sized and colored zebra midges and moved down stream to the next hole. This is one of my prefered spots on this stretch of the river. A large ledge drop riffle with a big back eddy behind the drop and a long turbulent run on the other side of the river. I have had great success here as trout often stack up at the head of the back eddy.
On my first drift to the head of the eddy my indicator stopped, and I softly tugged.. A bolt of silver and crimson leapt into the sky, tailwalking and dancing on the surface of the water, spit the hook in a shake of defiance and disappeared as if it had never existed. Tout 1, RN 0. And I do keep score.
The next 20 minutes produced a bevy of whitefish. Now don’t get me wrong, whitefish can keep a slow day from being a complete skunking, but they don’t fight like trout, and will eat anything that drifts across their noses. They can be a trick on a dry fly as their mouths are so tiny, but they are not my preferred prey.
I am starting to doubt that there are any more trout hiding in the deep water in front of the eddy when my indicator’s drift is halted. It takes a dip and I set the hook. The first indication that I am into something outside of the ordinary is when my rod bends double. I began to wonder if I had snagged a beaver. I apply a little pressure, bring in ten feet of line, and get a flash of gold that can only be created by the light glinting of the side of a brown trout. He decides he is going to make it difficult for me and heads for the fast turbulent water. I am now faced with the choice of crossing the fast water and following him down stream, with the likely prospects of a cold swim, or losing the biggest brown (well also the second brown) I had ever tied into on this stretch of water.
I started across the fast water, and my reel sang as that big brown peeled off line, running me well into my backing. When you have a big fish on 4 lb leader you have to let them run a little, and when they find a strong current... you must follow. I finally move into a nice big slow eddy and turn the brown into it. He makes a couple of more valiant runs before I land him. Nice beautiful fish. 23 inches on my measuring tape and well into the 4 pound range. I took a couple of good looks at him, for memories sake and let him back into the river.
After catching my breath I move back into position at the top of the riffle. The next while is spent catching and releasing white fish, with a couple of nice 17 rainbows mixed in to keep things interesting. Right as I am seriously contemplating moving location my indicator again takes off in a mad dash for the state line.
Now browns will bulldog you as they run, bury their nose in the bottom and shake their head vigorously, and while they are fun, nothing is so beautiful as the acrobatics of a large rainbow, and this was a large rainbow. She jumped and spun dancing across the silver water with a deep red stripe down her sides that seemed to be a mile wide. After a couple of nice runs in the eddy, she wised up to the fast water on the far side of the river and made a bee line run for freedom. Again I made the dicey crossing across the fast water to the nice big slow inner bend of the river and finally tailed her out. Few trout that I have caught could match this 20 inch hen for color.
As it would be impossible for three hours of fishing to get any better I decided to head for home. As I walked I reflected upon how good it is to have an awesome river close by and the time to sneak out and fish it.
PS
I will post pics of the rainbow in a couple of days.
The drizzle continued on the drive up to (name changed to protect the innocent) and the snow on the side of the road grew deeper as I slowly climbed into the higher elevations. The turn off at Spring Creek Bridge was pretty slushy and the road around the first bend was a smooth and as icy as a skating rink. The previous week’s cycle of thawing days and freezing nights turned the accumulated snow into a five inch thick sheet of solid ice. I shifted into low, engaged the 4 wheel drive.... and crept ever so slowly up the road to one of my favorite fishing spots.
The hike out to the river was fairly uneventful. A little slush, a little mud, and a little dodging through the brush brought me to the river bank. A flock of swans exploded into the sky as I arrived, the rhythm of their beating wings reverberated through the river bottoms. I looked up and down the river, there was not another soul for miles, but as I hiked up to the first hole of the day, I noted a disappointing absence of rising fish.
The fish on (name changed to protect the innocent) are far from shy. The will generally stack up in every riffle, rain snow or shine. The tail ends of riffles here are often awash with riotously rising fish, greedily nipping everything that floats by. One of my best days ever on this river was on the day after thanksgiving two years previously. It was snowing sideways, but the fish were rising to BWOs like there was a great famine or a dearth of insects. But today, my 18 BWO hackle stacker elicited no reposes. I decided to pause and study the water. Five minutes of intense observation noted no dimples from rising fish. My expectations for a day of dry fly fishing, dashed. This required a change of tactics.
I tied on a dual nymph rig consisting of two different sized and colored zebra midges and moved down stream to the next hole. This is one of my prefered spots on this stretch of the river. A large ledge drop riffle with a big back eddy behind the drop and a long turbulent run on the other side of the river. I have had great success here as trout often stack up at the head of the back eddy.
On my first drift to the head of the eddy my indicator stopped, and I softly tugged.. A bolt of silver and crimson leapt into the sky, tailwalking and dancing on the surface of the water, spit the hook in a shake of defiance and disappeared as if it had never existed. Tout 1, RN 0. And I do keep score.
The next 20 minutes produced a bevy of whitefish. Now don’t get me wrong, whitefish can keep a slow day from being a complete skunking, but they don’t fight like trout, and will eat anything that drifts across their noses. They can be a trick on a dry fly as their mouths are so tiny, but they are not my preferred prey.
I am starting to doubt that there are any more trout hiding in the deep water in front of the eddy when my indicator’s drift is halted. It takes a dip and I set the hook. The first indication that I am into something outside of the ordinary is when my rod bends double. I began to wonder if I had snagged a beaver. I apply a little pressure, bring in ten feet of line, and get a flash of gold that can only be created by the light glinting of the side of a brown trout. He decides he is going to make it difficult for me and heads for the fast turbulent water. I am now faced with the choice of crossing the fast water and following him down stream, with the likely prospects of a cold swim, or losing the biggest brown (well also the second brown) I had ever tied into on this stretch of water.
I started across the fast water, and my reel sang as that big brown peeled off line, running me well into my backing. When you have a big fish on 4 lb leader you have to let them run a little, and when they find a strong current... you must follow. I finally move into a nice big slow eddy and turn the brown into it. He makes a couple of more valiant runs before I land him. Nice beautiful fish. 23 inches on my measuring tape and well into the 4 pound range. I took a couple of good looks at him, for memories sake and let him back into the river.
After catching my breath I move back into position at the top of the riffle. The next while is spent catching and releasing white fish, with a couple of nice 17 rainbows mixed in to keep things interesting. Right as I am seriously contemplating moving location my indicator again takes off in a mad dash for the state line.
Now browns will bulldog you as they run, bury their nose in the bottom and shake their head vigorously, and while they are fun, nothing is so beautiful as the acrobatics of a large rainbow, and this was a large rainbow. She jumped and spun dancing across the silver water with a deep red stripe down her sides that seemed to be a mile wide. After a couple of nice runs in the eddy, she wised up to the fast water on the far side of the river and made a bee line run for freedom. Again I made the dicey crossing across the fast water to the nice big slow inner bend of the river and finally tailed her out. Few trout that I have caught could match this 20 inch hen for color.
As it would be impossible for three hours of fishing to get any better I decided to head for home. As I walked I reflected upon how good it is to have an awesome river close by and the time to sneak out and fish it.
PS
I will post pics of the rainbow in a couple of days.