Another ditch keeps the streak alive

With nine straight months that Rick had brought a trout to hand, he and Tom made a late February exploration of another ditch in hopes of keeping the streak alive (all months of the streak have been posted on this blog except last May, which may have occurred shortly before the end of the short-lived, misguided ban by Governor Inslee on all outdoor activities including fishing at a private pond...maybe I'll post that trip sometime after the statute of limitations runs out).

We met not too early on a beautiful morning with enough wind to chill despite the sun, but never reaching the threatened gale, at least where we were fishing. We were exploring a ditch we knew held some very large fish from a couple online videos I had found, that while not sharing the location, had enough information that we were able to clearly ascertain where they were fishing. So we were on our way to explore and see what we could find. 

As we began the walk in, Tom dropped in his October caddis under an indicator and promptly landed a nice, fat rainbow. However, the early promise was not sustained other than a nice rainbow we saw that jumped clean out of the water and a couple flashes and a hit on the swing for Rick a while later. 

We covered a mile and a half of ditch with some decent water in places. Despite the worn trail and occasional piles of beer cans, there have to be more fish in there, but we couldn't figure it out today. Back at the truck, Tom found his very expensive net was missing, and decided to go back to look for it where he had squeezed through a bramble of Russian olives while I decided to check out a couple moving stretches upstream to search for just one trout to keep my streak alive. After finding nothing in the first two runs, I came to a third stretch of water and saw a large trout actively feeding in the water below. Climbing down the steep bank to the water's edge, I ran my fly through the stretch where the fish had been feeding but got no love for the black bugger or October caddis under the indicator. But just then the water upstream came alive with rises. A mayfly hatch had started and a number of smallish fish were actively feeding. I was just finishing tying on a 5x tippet and size 18 or 20 something or other dry when Tom arrived, having found his net. A toss upstream followed by a splash that made apparent the location of the fly I hadn't been able to locate after the cast landed was a missed opportunity. A few more casts watching more carefully for the tiny fly floating in the current, and this time I saw it disappear in a splash. The quick set was rewarded with this cute little rainbow that kept my streak alive. Ten straight months with a trout to hand...

We played around a little more in this run, where I missed a half dozen more on the dry and caught a couple more on a chironomid. Then we decided to call it a day. Not the big fish we'd hoped for, but any day outdoors fishing is a good day!

A good start to the new year at the big ditch

It's nice to have moving water that can produce nice trout in the winter months when the days are mild enough to get out. With a forecast of sun and a balmy high of 39°F, Rob and I agreed to meet at the big ditch to see what could be found a month after my successful Christmas Eve visit last month. Yup, it continues to produce. 

I tied up some October caddis nymphs that had been doing well here for Tom on a past trip and both Rob and I fished these most of the day.

In the early morning with temps just above freezing, Rob promptly broke one off in the 20-inch plus size. Although that would be the biggest fish we saw that day, we still found nice trout. 

We found them here and there, most in the 14 to 17 inch range, lively strong. 

With water temp right about 42°F when we started, they may be a little slower to move to a fly, although by afternoon as we were getting ready to leave, a hatch of little mayflies came out. A bunch of little ones were splashing in the foam line of a large eddy below me, so I tied on a size 20 dry, missed a few, then finally brought a little 12-incher to hand. Dry flies in January is pretty cool. Put the nymph back on and dredged up the largest of the day, this beautiful 17-18 incher.

A great day fishing with Rob before he heads back to the warmer south lands of St George. About a dozen fish between the two of us. Can't ask for much more in January!

Happy Birthday, Dad

Fourth Christmas Eve without Dad. I decided to celebrate his birthday in a way I know he'd approve of. Just me, my flyrod, and a long stretch of clear, flowing water. Oh, and a few nice rainbows for good measure. Hope he was able to take a break from whatever he's doing on the other side to see them tail-dancing across the water. Love you, Dad!

 

Another Successful Black Fishday

The Governor may have ordered us to avoid Thanksgiving gatherings to reduce the spread of Covid-19, but luckily he didn't order outdoor recreation closed down as he did earlier in the year (I think we would have become conscientious objectors if that had happened). In the great outdoors social distancing was of no concern as we had a mile and a half of stream to ourselves. 

Tom and I met at the Big Ditch to see if we could repeat the magic of last year, this time with Brad and his dad Jeff joining us. My drive was in sunshine until entering ice fog the last few miles, but Tom and the others (driving in separate vehicles for separate households) had fog and icy roads their whole drive, a typical indicator of good things to come. And that indicator held true yet again.

With good roads I arrived before Tom and the others, and like the good brother I am, immediately headed to the stream to get a head start on the fishing where I quickly found a bright 17-inch bow swinging a black bead-head bugger (the fly and method that found the most fish today).

Tom and the others soon arrived and we began working our way upstream searching for more. And the same as last year, we found a good number of large, feisty rainbows.  

Brad and Jeff had been lagging behind (not necessarily a bad thing since the fish Tom caught above was found in water I had already fished through), but it's always nice to be fishing fresh water. So we set them up in a run where we found several fish last year, Tom gave some instruction on how to swing through the run, then we headed upstream to some fresh water of our own. We shortly heard some excited shouting coming up to us from downstream and said it sounds like they found one. Sure enough, Jeff had swung up a nice rainbow (the refs threw a flag on the picture for holding, but Jeff looked so happy I just had to photoshop the penalty out of the pic and post it).

A happy face

Just like last year, we found fish scattered all along the way. Tom and I each caught several over 20".

Tom had the largest at just under 23" (escaped before a photo could be taken, but here is another nice one he found).

We also found quite a few "little guys" in the 15 to 18 inch range. All healthy strong fish, many long and acrobatic runs. The black bugger swung was largely the ticket, although Tom also found several nymphing a jig-head October caddis. Another successful Black Fishday in the books!

If Tom had my wicked fish catching skills, he would have had a picture of his 23-incher...

Golden, But Not the Trout, and Stream #142

Rick and his daughter Sarah made a quick overnight backpack trip to the Chelan-Sawtooth mountains to look for gold. Not the trout, but the annual display of color by the larch trees found in a narrow habitat range in the North Cascades in Washington. 

This deciduous conifer turns bright yellow in early fall putting on a beautiful show if early snows don't make trails and camping unpleasant, if not impassible. The weather cooperated this year and gifted us two mild, beautiful days for the trip. 

This was primarily a daddy-daughter photography trip, but since we were camping at an alpine lake with trout, the trusty Fenwick pack rod from my days as a Boy Scout forty years ago had to come along with the cast-a-bubble. We arrived to the lake in early afternoon with a bit of a breeze putting a chop on the lake. 

After camp was set up, Sarah saw a couple fish jumping as she was down at the lake taking pictures. I was already getting my rod ready to see if we could add a fish to our dinner menu. I started with the trusty brown hackle yellow (which I recently learned is actually called "the professor"). The fish were no longer jumping, and none were visible, so I started blind casting. About the third cast, there was a big splash behind the bubble and a fish was on. Surprisingly stout for a fish in a lake at 7200 feet, I got it right in front of me where it splashed and twisted its way off the hook. In the range of 13" or 14" that would have made a nice complement to dinner. Working my way along the shore, I had a few more strikes, but nothing hooked. Switched to a yellow wooly bugger and promptly caught this beautiful 12-inch cutthroat, that became a tasty dinner cooked in foil on the coals a few minutes later.

Not spectacular action in the few minutes that I fished, but I'd forgotten how much fun it is to fish in beautiful locations like these high lakes. After a beautiful morning taking photos, we packed up and headed back to the trailhead, where exhausted as I was, I found enough energy to add stream #142 to my tally, jumping out of the car for a few minutes to pick up a little rainbow before turning for home.

Definitely going to try to spend some more time in the mountains next summer. Photos and fish, a good combination!

Smoked fishing...

With the air having cleared to merely "unhealthy" levels and with a Friday off after a couple weeks of long hours at work (or is it at home? at home work?), I gave the WhatToDo meter a spin and as expected, it told me to...

So I did!

I arrived at my favorite local stream just as the sun was beginning to vaguely appear as a dim orange ball shining (kind of...) through the smoke. The water was low, and with the big floods last winter having scoured the stream, there were a lot of wide, shallow riffles over flat gravel that were barren in the low water and some areas that would normally hold fish left high and dry. Started with the psycho, and even with the magic fly, things were slower than normal and the average size was much smaller than my last visit in June.

Seeing shucks from October caddis all over the rocks, I remembered a previous morning visit at this time of year when the fishing was similarly slow. The October caddis hatch seems to be the one time of year the psycho magic wanes on this stream. So I put on a stimulator and got a lot more interest, though my hooking ratio went from what seemed like 90% to 10%. I don't know if they are fast, I'm slow, or if the fly is just too big for many of their small mouths. But there was much more action and the size tended to be a little better.

Found fish under grass by the banks, in the pocket water, everywhere they are supposed to be. Still, not nearly the numbers as in June. Fishing dry, it was fun to watch a few of these nicer ones rise slowly to the fly.

All in all a great morning. About 30 or 40 to hand and a lot more to the fly. The air may have been unhealthy, but the fishing was definitely healthy!

Utah Trout Time

Tuesday in Logan Canyon 

The best part of having a child attending Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah is that it provides an excuse to come fishing the wonderful Utah streams the week before classes start each August.  This is Brian's last year at BYU so I may have to start coming to visit nieces before their classes start in future years.

Tuesday, Brian & I headed to Logan to fish one of our favorites, the Logan River.  We've found the Bear River Cutthroat there previously (one of the four sub-species of Cutthroat trout in Utah).  Last year was a very late and cold spring and when we went the water temp was 44 degrees and the fish were sluggish and insect life was missing in action as well.  (See post from that trip at:  Dads and Sons )

This year was definitely better!  And we didn't have to do battle with wind and rain from thunderstorms.  Brian and I each landed a nice cutt in the first few holes.  I was fishing a Renegade and Brian had on a Chernobyl (foam) hopper.  Fish seemed quite happy to take a taste of either one.

First hole, first fish

However, as the day wore on we noticed a rather obnoxious pattern in the fish--they would come up ever so slowly and gently, turn downstream, and then gently eat the fly, all the while drifting with the current and facing downstream. This makes good hookset very difficult, especially with lots of brush overhead and on the sides.  We had lots of fish to the fly, fewer on the hook, and fewer still to hand.  Many came off at our feet as we reached to lift them for a nice photo. Frustrating when they are a sizable pretty fish and you didn't get a photo to prove it.

A beautiful Bear River cutthroat

I was able to finish the day with a very nice cutt that was a slab!  Great to fish with Brian and return to a river we love so well.

Wednesday South of Springville

Wednesday morning Brian and I met up with Mike Dover at his home in Springville to check out some new water (to us) that he'd explored the previous year.  Mike was forgiving of our tardiness--we arrived at 8:01 for our 8:00 departure.  We loaded our things in his truck and headed off.

When we arrived we started fishing right in the campground where we had parked.  Unusual, but hey, Mike knows what he's doing.  

A cold clear mountain stream
(with lots of beavers)

Brian with the only tiger trout of the day

My first cutthroat of the day

We continued fishing and found a fish here and there, usually in the deeper protected pockets with overhanging branches or some other type of structure. Beaver dams were plentiful and as we got upstream to where there were fewer willows we were surprised to find beaver dams constructed primarily of rocks with a few willow and other branches used as materials as well.  Brian was carefully casting to the darker green bush on the right bank above the dam and was rewarded with a beautiful cutt.

Our first mostly rock beaver dam

Found him hiding under a bush

Mike found this nice trout in another beaver dam.  Patience and letting the fly slowly drift with the (at times painfully) slow current flowing through the beaver impoundment.  However, that patience was sometimes richly rewarded!

Nice day!

We continued until finally about 3:00, with temperatures hovering in the mid-90's, and having had not food nor water since we started, we began the trudge back to the truck, some three miles distant at this point.  Hot, thirsty, tired, but exceptionally satisfied we trekked back, opened the truck to find our snacks and water.  And more water.  And another bottle of warm water.  We were soon heading home with memories of another wonderful place where we spent some quality time with family and Utah trout.  And Brian should now be ready to face the rigors of another semester.

Rob's best of the day

Mike takes the measure of the monster before releasing

Happy Brian with Mike the Master in the background