Steelhead in Solitude

Early this winter I fortunately found a weekend to visit my grandmother who just so happens to live within minutes of some good steelhead water.  Funny how the coincidences just happen to pile up sometimes.  :)

This particular stretch of water is a very popular early spring fishing destination when the water temps begin to warm after the frigid winter.  But for now the temps haven't gotten cold enough yet to push the fish back down river into the warmer deep pools.

In the spring a typical day starts well before sunrise as you and whatever posse might be down there with you get to the most likely honey hole and lock it down with sheer force of fishing combat tactics.  The idea is to physically occupy all the good fishing spots in the hole and hopefully prevent any other anglers from encroaching.    

This is an early winter weekend, however, and there is not another angler in sight as I drive up and down the river.  After a light rain last week the flows are ideal for wade fishing and the water has cleared.  I have my choice of the best holes and furthermore the best spots in each hole.  If any fish have come up I will have a decent chance to catch them.   

I realize the irony of the fact that I desire solitude yet I am one of the masses that actually help to evaporate that solitude.  But I am fisherman and solitude, like like old Walter, is just one of those things to pine for.  

All told I end up hooking 3 large B-run steelhead landing only one.  While the temps where cold the fish fought hard and were large.  But without a doubt the best part was not seeing another angler while I was fishing.

An early winter steel head caught without another angler in sight

My Best Week of Fishing

It seems like each good day of fishing rivals my "best day" of fishing ever.  I can't rightly say what my single best day of fishing was, but I do have some extremely memorable days on the water tickling the lips of some of my finned friends.  Now if you were to ask me what my best week of fishing was I will definitely have an answer for you....

Royce in the Small Pool.

In the fall of 2007, my Dad, his buddy Royce, and myself made the journey to British Columbia to fish for salmon.  For the whole week the water conditions were perfect as the water was low, clear, and absolutely loaded with Chinook salmon!  That first night we found a small pool that was a holding ground for moving fish.  Below that pool was a larger one that held literally dozens of big fish.  We were throwing sinktips with bunny leeches and egg sucking leeches and getting bit in a big way!  We each had lots of hookups, but as we would learn there was a big difference between hooking and landing these monsters.  Nonetheless, for the most part after we found this hole we spent most of the time hooked up.

Eric Fighting a Tough Springer

When fighting chinook salmon the odds are stacked against the angler especially when using lighter fly tackle.  To begin with, the fish is a powerhouse built of rigid muscle upon rigid muscle so any illusion of control is immediately gone upon hookup.  Next, they have great endurance and use it effectively in combination with their sheer weight.  Due to the nature of fly fishing, the gear is typically lighter with 10wt rods and 15# line, which ultimately limits the amount of force an angler can put on a fish and therefore determines how long the fight will be. The biggest factor that works in the anglers advantage is the fact that Mr. Chinook has had to swim upstream a long ways to get where he is at and doesn't want to bolt back downstream.  He is typically content to stay right the hell where he is at!  After the initial struggle the fight boils down to a match of tug of war where every inch is gained and lost multiple times.  The point at which the fish comes to either the net or the bank is filled will equal trepidation as when the fish is initially hooked.

Early Morning Fight

About halfway through the 2nd day of sticking kings at will we understood this behavior thoroughly.  Each fish was not measured in inches or pounds, but rather in minutes it took to land the S.O.B.  10 minutes is a long time to fight a fish and 20 minutes is an eternity.  Fortunately, it is an eternity in bliss because there is nothing quite like the relentless pull of a powerful king.  By the end of the 2nd day the trip was already a success as we had already fought dozens of kings and while landing fewer had landed some BIG fish. 

We took a break from the kings on the 3rd day and went after a whole other adversary in the chum salmon.  Chums are the toughest pound for pound fighter in the salmon world, but in some cases being half the size the kings are slightly easier to deal with....sometimes.  I raved about chums in blog entry Pack of Chums.  Needless to say, our sore arms didn't get much of a break. 

Eric and Royce Mid Fight Break

Ever the gluttons for punishment, on the 4th day we went back to our king run and picked up right where we left off.  Somewhere in the middle of the 2nd day I decided to try indicator fishing for the kings since they were slotted up so nicely in the run.  I continued using this method and my hookup rate shot up even higher.  It's my understanding that in the ocean chinook tend to hang out along drop offs waiting for food (octopus, shrimp, etc) to come to them via the ocean currents.  For this reason, I believe a dead drifted pattern beneath an indicator is an incredibly effective method for getting bit. 

Ted and a Battleship

The 4th day was much like the 2nd except we knew exactly what we were in for.  Hookup, a bit of thrashing, a long fight, a bit more thrashing up to the net, a quick glory pic, and then start the process all over again.  Between the three of us at least one of us was hooked up almost the entire day.  One guy had to man the net and the other was usually in the process of trying to get hooked up again.  Life was good!

Eric and a Monster

The 5th and last day was just a morning session as we had to get back on the road to catch a flight.  Nothing had changed from the previous days, however, and it was game on yet again.  The only difference was that we were all tired, sore, and content from a week of hard yet awesome fishing.  We each caught a couple and were happy to hook them and let them get off unless they were an absolute monster.  It was as fitting an end as any to the best week of fishing I have ever had.  Best week of fishing without a doubt. 

Ted and One of the Biggest Fish of the Trip

Pay Attention

Had this happen a few times yesterday

So yesterday the weather was so nice that I just couldn't stand to be at work so I took a "mental health" day and went up the hill to my new favorite pond.  I have fished the pond a number of times this spring and while I haven't always caught a lot of fish I have always caught something.  Yesterday, I caught lots and the rest of the fisherman on the pond (maybe 6 or 7 other guys) caught almost nothing.





More than a couple of the fisherman asked me what I was using to catch them and I was completely honest.  I told them I was fishing a chironomid pupa pattern and even the specific pattern I was using.  Their response was to quickly change flies, continue fishing, and continue to not get bit.     

Fish taken on a midge pupa pattern, a Chromie

So I must have been using some incredibly effective new stillwater tactic...nope.   I was fishing 2 midge pupa flies beneath an indicator akin to fishing a bobber which has been an effective stillwater tactic since time out of mind. 

Well, I must have killer new fly then....sorry try again.  The pattern I was using was a very common patten most stillwater fisherman have in their box. While my pattern might have been tied more cleanly, even the most rudimentary midge pupa pattern will still catch fish. 

So what was the difference?  I was using a common technique and an equally common pattern.  The difference was where I was putting my fly, obviously!  The average fisherman will simply troll aimlessly picking up the occasional fish.  A slighly more advanced fisherman will use visual shoreline structure as a guide point to where fish might be lying.  An even more advanced angler will utilize a fish/depth finder to locate underwater structure and possibly even where fish are lying. 

I'm not saying that every fisherman needs to run out a buy a fish finder, but if you see someone nailing fish and he has a depth finder then you would do well to pay attention to WHERE he is fishing.  If any of the anglers who had asked me what pattern I was using had actually paddled out to the depth I was at and put their fly near the bottom they would have gotten bit without a doubt. So in summary, PAY ATTENTION!!!

Pay attention!  You're doing it wrong!

Pack of Chums

Chum salmon, also know as dog salmon are arguably the toughest salmon on a pound per pound basis.  King salmon, because of their considerably larger size, usually require a longer fight, but after the first few moments the fight becomes a redundant battle of inches.  With chum salmon the fisherman can never be sure what to expect.  Some fish explode with blistering runs punctuated with impressive aerial displays including tail walking and high jumps.  Other fish will just slow play the fight until they get really pissed and then unexpectedly explode.  It is for this reason the the ugly dog salmon is possibly my favorite anadromous quarry. 

Steelhead are a gorgeous and elegant fish, which have a special spot in any fly fisherman's heart because of their relation to rainbow trout.  Kings are the epitome of power and size; pure muscle with a big fin on back.  Chums are definitely not elegant thanks to their grotesquely protruding teeth (and a somewhat canine snout) and violent splashes of color on their sides not unlike a blood splatter.  Chums sport a face that only a mother could love, but their tenaticity has an appeal that is something a king or steelhead can't offer, at least in this fisherman's opinion. 

Chums Can Leave Your Gear in Shambles

I personally have witnessed more gear destroyed with a chum at the end of the line than any other fish.  On my last trip to BC my brother fished all week bringing in numerous kings and pinks and it wasn't until the last day when he had a strong dog on when his 4 piece rod was turned into a 5 piece.  I have had reels destroyed [see left], entire fly lines broken off, and have actually been bloodied by these toothy critters.  I have learned my lessons and now when I pursue chums I come with stronger rods and thicker tippets to subdue these tenacious fish. 

A Strong Chilliwack River Chum

Chums usually get chased out of a king runs fairly quickly so they typically don't linger around kings for very long.  One day on the Chilliwack river, in the middle of a king run, I saw a lighter fish pull into a king run.  I was in position to cast to this fish and almost instantly I was hooked up with a hot chum.  This S.O.B. turned 180 degrees and bolted down stream faster than any king I had hooked the entire trip.  During that seething run the handle on my reel rapped my left hand about a dozen times before the pain registered and I pulled my sore hand away.  That day my most memorable fish was that chum even though it was possibly the smallest fish I hooked that day. 

Spawning Chums on the Chehalis

To me the most intriguing thing about the chum salmon is their dynamic coloring.  The males typify the spawning condition with gnarly teeth, a humped back, and bright indigo vertical barring.   These bars are present on the widest part of the fish so as to increase a males apparent size to other competing males.  Females have a much more subdued appearance and some slight darker vertical barring, but no where near the male.  Females also have an obvious horizontal stripe down their sides.  The stripe is a signal to other chums that she is a docile fish and not to be harassed.  The stripe allows the males to determine which fish are a procreative threat and which are a potential partner.   You can easily determine the male from the female on this photo by the striping patterns.

The really cool thing is that the chums can literally change their coloring in seconds.  A female will increase the intensity of her stripe to increase her femininity to surrounding mates.  Conversely, competitive males can enhance the color of their bars to show other males they are not to be trifled with.  The coloring of a landed chum, whether male or female, is not indicative of their natural state because of the aggression the fish released upon being hooked and fought.  The fish below is obviously a hen because of the torpedo shape and non-protruding jaw, but both the vertical bars and horizontal stripe are quite noticeable.  This fish likely had a solid stripe before she was hooked. 

Eric and a Nice Hen

Another great thing is that they are a very well biting fish meaning that just about any presentation will work.  Swinging, indicator nymphing, and bottom bouncing with flies are all effective presentations.  My personal favorite is indicator nymphing because while they might be bitey the aren't always obvious bites and an idicator can really help detect strikes.  Even further than that I like to use a 14' spey rod for a nymphing rod (a completely bastardization of the spey setup, a topic for another day), which gives me a very strong rod to fight these aggressive fish with. 

Every year when fall rolls around I find myself yearning to go do some salmon fishing.  While the kings are a major attraction, I find that it's the chums that I really want to catch because they are such a memorible fish in every sense. 

Eric and Richard During an Epic Day on the Stave River

Fish of a Lifetime

It is truly a rare thing to catch the fish of a lifetime.  Every time you catch a fish that beats your personal size record you have to wonder if that fish is the biggest one that you will ever catch.  With a lifetime ahead of you how can you know that you won't catch a bigger or more meaningful fish?  Without reservation I can say that I have seen the fish of a lifetime hooked, fought, and landed successfully.  The problem was the fish wasn't on the end of my line.  This Walter was caught by my buddy Steve at the legendary Henry's lake.  

I was fishing with Steve on his boat on a late June weekend.  We had been getting slow albeit consistent action in the morning on midges near the cliffs, but midday and afternoon fishing was very slow.  Actually very slow was an exaggeration, the action was dead.  We were spot hopping and were in the channel at Staley's Springs when Steve's indicator took a dip.  A few seconds after he set the hook we got a quick flash and we both could tell that this was not the average Big H fish.  After relatively quick, but tense fight this 30" long, 19" girth, and 14lb trout came to rest in my net, Triple-D (and yes, my net has a name and a well deserved one at that). 

Steve has been fishing Henry's Lake regularly for almost 35 years.  The largest Henry's fish he had caught until this fish was only about 7lbs.  So not only was this Steve's largest trout ever, it was more than twice the size of any fish he had taken from Henry's.  The fish of a lifetime should naturally be huge, but it should also be rare in some sense.  Fish weighing in the double digit range are somewhate rare on Henry's, but fish in the teens are even more so.  Undoubtedly, this was a fish of a lifetime!

A fish of this size is at least 10 years old, which is amazing in its own right considering the fishing pressure that exists on Henry's.  The fish's advanced age became even more apparent when Steve was unable to revive him.  Instead of releasing this fish only to slip to the bottom and drown we collectively made the tough decision to keep this fish.  Years of catch and release fishing made this a very difficult call even though it was perfectly legal.

Keeping this fish actually helped shed some light into answering the question of the trout's exact species.  Henry's is stocked with 3 types of trout: yellowstone cutthroat, yellowstone cutt-rainbow hybrid, and brook.  Steve sumbitted the fish for dissection to the Idaho Fish and Game where they determined the fish had under developed sexual organs consistent with a hybrid trout.  The problem is hybrids typically have spots across their entire body where as pure cutts only have spots on their tail region (like his big guy).  The sheer age of fish is more consistent with a hybrid as cutts only live about 6 or 7 years while hybrids are have more longevity.  The fight was more remininscent of a cutt though as the fish didn't go on any blistering runs like hybrids are reknown for.  So the debate rages on, but I know one thing for sure.  I know that I hope this once-in-a-lifetime fish isn't the fish of MY lifetime! 

A Change of Pace

My buddy Russ gave me a hot fishing tip to a good bass pond so the first chance I got I skipped down there to temp a few bass.  The pond was very shallow so I was able to use a floating line and bass poppers all day and the fish were very very receptive. When I made it to the shoreline and saw bass working in tight to the bank I could tell it was going to be a good day. 

Fishing for bass is a definitely change of pace when compared to trout fishing.  Trout, at least while feeding, tend to move a lot so their fishing tactics revolve around intercepting them while they are prowling for food.  Bass on the other hand are ambush predators waiting for the meals to come to them.  Just visually inspecting the fish suggest their differences.  Trout are slime covered torpedos sculped for swimming long distances with minimal effort, while bass are built like a short roided-out line backer primed to crush anything that comes within sight.

I plopped my popper near the first bass I saw and no sooner had it hit the surface then water erupted as the bucket mouth swallowed my popper.  I continued working down the shoreline tossing my bug beneath the shoreline vegetation.  Some of the strikes I had were simply epic.  The water would swell in a wake toward my popper then the water would erupt....Fish ON!  Others would come and sip the popper off the surface like a trout taking a dry fly.  Others yet wouldn't even break the surface, they would just hover beneath the fly and suck it under the surface and into their large mouths (no pun intended).  Left: definitely a large mouth!

The sight fishing was fun because you could see the bass come up to the fly, inspect it ,and ultimately take it down, but getting bit by unseen bass was even cooler.  If you didn't watch that popper like a hawk, it would disappear and you would miss the strike.  The problem with watching the fly with undivided attention is that sometimes the bass unloads on the fly and scares the shit out of you because you are expecting a subtle take.  You can never tell when the water is going explode with an angry bass tied on the end of your line!  Right: Bass, Bass where are you?

Another difference between trout and bass fishing is the complexity of the flies.  Trout can be fussy at times for fly size, color, profile, action, et cetera.  Conversely, bass just require something to look big and alive even if it is colored like a carnival ride.  Not having to worry about pattern selection, and just covering water makes bass fishing a nice change of pace from trout fishing. Left: One downside to bass fishing is that it wrangling the fish can chew up your digits a little bit....

I had never spent a lot of time bass fishing, which is way my largest bass until fishing this pond was just a bit under 12".  At this pond I caught a number of fish in the 16-20" range, which were big strong toads.  In pressured public waters there are fewer of these large fish and the ones that are there are highly suspicious.  This pond had lots of big dumb fish, my favorite combination!  Places like this really let you know how good fishing could be with catch and release and good management.  Thanks again for the hot spot, buddy!  Right: A nice bass taken from my tube.








OK, maybe just a little more fish porn!  Left: This guy left a wake as he crushed my popper.

A Big Fish Story

I caught a monster fish this last weekend. I'd like to say that the act of sticking this toad was due to sheer talent or skill, but I know that isn't entirely true. I could also say that I was simply lucky, which I was to some extent, but that wasn't entirely true either. I think what it boiled down to was a combination of being at the right place and time (luck) and having an adequate fly presentation acceptable for old uncle Walter (skill).  Personally, I believe that luck favors the prepared. 

It had already been a fantastic fishing trip because earlier that afternoon the bite had turned on in a BIG BIG way. It was quite possibly the best afternoon of trout fishing I have ever had as every 5th or 6th cast produced a slam on the end of my flyline. Each fish was not just the average fish, which for this lake is big in its own right, but the were big chunky trout. The afternoon produced 6 fish between 7 and 10 lbs. Unbelievable fishing. When the action finally died, we celebrated with numerous cheeseburgers and beers while lauding our afternoon's piscatorial conquests.

Even then with a full belly, a beer buzz, and the knowledge that I should be satisfied with the days fishing I found that I was still unsatisfied. The urge inside of me beckoned me back to the water to continue fishing.  As the sun began it's evening decent into the horizon so did I launch from shore in my pontoon boat.



By this point in the trip my path around the lake was well grooved. I had made the same casts over the same water dozens of times over the weekend. As my attention was diverted to the next positioning of my boat, my line went tight. This wasn't the same slam I had gotten all afternoon, but rather a more delicate pull on the line. The fish's initial response wasn't typical for a big fish as I was given a few quick head shakes usually indicative of a smaller fish. The secondary response of a blistering run into my backing and towards the nearest weed patch slapped the beer buzz away with a new found focus on this particular fish.

I had to pull my anchor up with my non casting hand (an awkward process at best let alone with only one hand) and then I was able to give chase. Paddling after the fish, I had to get my backing back and get some fly line on the reel so that I could put some semblance of side pressure on the fish and steer him out of the weeds. The fish still made it into the weed bed, but (luckily or purposefully?) I had been fishing heavier tippet all weekend and it held the fish as it shook through the vegetation. After a lengthy tug of war, the fish was finally tired enough to come to the net and I had a new personal record. A 31" and 16lbs rainbow trout.  Now, I was completely satisfied.

Pyramid Lake Fishing Blog

My Dad (Ted) and I made it to Pyramid Lake around 2pm PST Friday (March 29th) night to find buddy Steve already fishing and doing pretty well.  We also hooked up with Bruce who was for all intents and purposes our guide and a rockstar stillwater fisherman to boot.   Bruce had already been fishing most of the week so he already had things figured out for us.  Just had to throw our ladders in the water and start catching fish (yeah, right).  Surprisingly, this was almost how it worked out.  It didn't take very long for me to get a few dips on my indicator and the skunk was off.  Steve was on a mission to set the IGFA record for a cutthroat on 3kg test line, which was 7lbs 4oz.  He came very close with the near 7lb fish (above) on the first evening.

Later in the afternoon/evening the wind picked up and started pushing larger 2-3' rolling waves into our ladders.  More than a few times I had a roller knock me off the top step of my ladder and had to frantically grab the handle just to hang on.  Extreme fishing if I have ever seen it!  The coolest part was the fish were still biting!  The problem was that a netted fish would divert your attention from the incoming waves.  Ted learned this the hard way and took a wave about shoulder height while fighting with a netted fish.  He was less than thrilled to have the 40F water go down his waders!   I had good bite the rest of the night when it was just me and another fisherman (Ernie) sticking out the rollers. 

After tent camping on the beach we had a decent morning bite at the same spot the next day.  The fishing was considerably slower than it was on Friday, but there was a good morning bite for about 2 hours follow by a spotty action the rest of the day and evening.  Ted managed to nail a nice 7lb fish with an indicator and a black midge. Later that evening there were pockets of decent fishing, but none were as good as the previous night.

Later that evening I tied into a better than average fish.  I learned this trip that an average fish is affectionately called a "shaker" because that is about all they do on the end of your line once hooked.  







Through out the trip we found ourselves having to lend a hand a critical times to each other.

Reaching out and netting someones fish was not an uncommon occurrence. 









 
Sunday morning continued even slower than Saturday night so we decided to pickup and move around a bit.  I had a good time doing this because we got to learn more of the lake and in the afternoon we found a deserted beach that had some BIG fish cruising up and down it.  I got a couple small bumps right away, but didn't hook up.  Soon thereafter, however, I was in mid strip when I noticed a small pod of fish cruising about 20' in front of me.  I tried to strip in to get my Wolley Worm in front of them, but it ran into an immovable object in the form of a large cutt.  The beast turned out to be an 8lb fish, my biggest fish ever on public water! 

About an hour after landing this toad, I was yet again mindlessly pulling my bugs through the water, when I noticed a large dark brown silhouette following my fly.  As I lifted my fly to recast (it still hadn't sunk into my brain yet that my fly had caught the attention of a lake monster), the fish turned his profile toward me and I could see his considerable size.  He was easily bigger than my previous fish.  Alas, he realized he was chasing some funny, not to mention there was a funny looking guy standing on a ladder right in front of him, and he peeled off back into the depths.  As if I already needed another reason to comeback, I now have the image of this gator burned into my memory.  I shall be back to catch you! 

The rest of the day and night were fairly slow.  We had good action on the deserted beach for a couple hours and then nothing.  We hit another hole or two and got a couple more bites, but that's about it.  That night we converged at the local watering hole (Crosby's Bar) to chat with some buddies.  It turns out they had pretty slow fishing as well, but there were still quiet a few big fish stuck including at least one 15 pounder.


Monday morning was our last day on the water and the wind was blowing like crazy.  Steve decide to forego the wind and just head for home.  Ted decided not to fish, and I figured I might as well take another shot at that 10lb fish.  Bruce and I got a couple more shakers, but that was about it.  Tough end to a tough trip, but one that had pockets of sucess and plenty of big fish.  What else could you ask for in a fishing trip?

Pyramid Monotony

Cast, wait, strip.  Cast, wait, strip.  Cast, wait, strip.  After monotonously casting continuously from sunrise to sunset while standing on a ladder casting becomes more of a compulsion than a conscious activity.  The corresponding obsession is the potential for the next cast to produce the fish of a lifetime in the form of a double digit pound Lahontan cutthroat trout (LCT) from Pyramid lake.

The most commonly accepted technique for fishing Pyramid lake is through the use of a step ladder [see photo to the upper left] which is carried out into chest deep water and planted in the sand.  This allows the caster to extend his cast further into the lake and ideally over a drop-off, which these predacious LCT's are well known to cruise along.   The idea is to let the fish come to your fly.  This is completely bass-ackwards from normal fishing conditions where the fisherman stalks the fish in its territory.  The mental strain of have to wait for the fish can sometime be unbearable.  You start to question your pattern, leader, ladder position, presentation, sexual orientation, OK may not the last one, but if there is too much time between bites you never know.

When the bite does finally come it is usually anything but obvious.  When Mr LCT inhales the fly and keeps swimming there isn't a sharp "bite" to feel on the line, just an increased tension and when the next strip comes it catches on the inside of the fish's mouth.  A bite on the line feels just like a snag.  Because Pyramid consists primarily of a sand based substrate (utterly devoid of obstacles) the odds are that you would have hooked that snag a dozen times before now on one of the preceding thousand casts. The coolest sensation is to set steel into a "snag" and feel the rod come alive with spirited fish.  The real difficulty is keeping the mental acuity after thousands of casts to realize that a snag is really a fish and to set the hook immediately. 

The fight is generally anti-climatic unless the fish is above the average size in which case things can get very interesting.  The full body flop of an average fish is evidence that the fish is just a "little" guy (little here is a respectable 18-20" though).  The bigger guys [like the hog to the right] pull much harder and give a lot of shoulder into the fight drawing it out.  I have yet to hook one of the true double digit monsters of the lake,which is the sole reason for which I will continue to return for some boring ladder fishing.

Fish on Every Cast

"I must have got a fish on every cast!" A statement that almost every fisherman has used at one time or another to describe a good day of fishing. A fisherman's honesty can be dubious at best when it comes to the subject of fish size and numbers, but a statement suggesting that every cast resulted in fish, seriously? To quote my favorite line from Super Troopers, "I'll believe that when me shit turns purple and smells like rainbow sherbet."

Now let me tell you how I had my day where I nearly caught a fish on every cast. First off, this was on public waters not private so I wasn't fishing in a private puddle of water over-loaded with big-dumb fish (not that I am against big-dumb fish). I was fishing on a 400 acre lake during a strong chironomid (midge) hatch.

Midges have 3 stages of life-cycle that trout care about: larval, pupal, and adult stages. When they are hatching the emerging midges are in the pupal stage. In the pupal stage the midges suspend just off the mud bottom of the lake gathering air bubbles for their vertical ascent. They remain suspended for an appreciable amount of time, which is a behavior that trout key into because the trout can leisurely swim along the bottom slipping in midges by the thousands. (The photo to the right is a few midge pupa retrieved with the use of a throat pump from a trout's mouth.  Notice the silvery luminescence of the body due to trapped air bubbles.)  I have caught fish during an intense midge hatch that spewed black clouds of midge pupa from their mouth as they fought to be netted. Chironomids individually might be diminutive, but by en mass they present a good protein rich meal for the fish. Think about a kernel of popcorn; not much by when eaten by itself, but if you eat the entire jumbo bucket at the movies you will be full!

Midge pupa don't move very fast so presenting them with a fly can be challenging using traditional tactics. Tradition would suggest using a steady sinking line with a weighted fly and retrieving the fly horizontally with any number of retrieves. Just in the past few years fishing with a strike indicator has become popular in this situation (or at least in North America; the Brits apparently have been doing it for a while). The key setup includes a strike indicator with a weighted midge pupa pattern (or two) suspended at the depth of the water minus a few inches (to raise the fly off the bottom). The indicator is for all intents and purposes a bobber and any movement of it indicates an encounter of the piscatorial variety. (The photo to the up/left shows how fun indicator fishing can be when the fishing is good.)  The thing to fishing with an indicator is that a single cast and retrieve can take up to 5 minutes. It is slow fishing requiring spades of patience. However, when you are in the right place at the right time with the right rig then you can almost hook a fish on every cast. See where I am going with this?

So back to my little 400 acre lake. Once the midge hatch got going around 10am until the time it finished around 2:30pm I nearly hooked a fish on every cast. I certainly did not land a fish on every cast, but over this time interval I did almost get a bite on every cast. So maybe my fish-on-every-cast claim had to be qualified with a few other factors (time interval and slow cast rate). I am a fisherman after all and as we established earlier am not to be trusted on matters of the fish unless...is that rainbow sherbet I smell?

Why Do I Fish?

As an electrical engineer I tend to see the world in two views: analog and digital. Digital electronics consists of sequences of only two voltages: 0's and 1's. Similarly, I consider a digital lifestyle as very predictable, redundant, and somewhat tiresome. For example, set the alarm for the same time every day, go to work, sit in on a few meetings, try to do some real work, go home, make dinner, do dishes and a few chores, go to bed, and then rinse an repeat tomorrow. Predictable. Redundant. Boring. Digital.

Conversely, analog electronics operate on a continuous spectrum of voltages not just two discreet values. I consider an analog lifestyle in a word as freedom. Freedom to live life on my terms not on terms dictated by an employer, spouse, or anyone else. This is the void in my life that fishing fills. Realistically, I can't live a gypsy lifestyle and still collect a paycheck to support my family and fishing addiction. Fishing is a prime opportunity for me to exist in the analog world at least for a few moments throughout my digital life.

Furthermore, stillwater fly fishing adds an element of mystique and intrigue to my fishing. Moving water fishing is also exciting, but the fish tend to be in fairly obviously holding lies which can begin to make fishing a river redundant. The mystique of stillwater fishing a lies beneath a vast featureless plane of water. Are there fish? If so where? And most importantly, how could I touch and marvel over one of these mysterious creatures, even if for just a few precious moments?

The intrigue comes when success is attained and a fish, against all odds, is hooked. Whether from the slight inflection of an indicator, a tiny amount of pressure on the line, or a full out Randy-The-Macho-Man body slam, once the fish is hooked the world comes into a singular focus. The Fish. The fight. The scream of a reel. The first view, oh that first sight of The Fish, how a single fish can be burned into memory for a lifetime! Finally, the landing and the quarry is restrained in our dry world for a few seconds before returning back to the unknown depths.

In a digital world, time is an unstoppable force that dictates the pace life. In my analog world, the only time that matters is the time between bites.

Fishervolution

The creed of the fisherman suggests that he will go through an evolution as a fisherman.  At first he will just be happy catching any fish at all.  Then he will want to catch large numbers of fish.  When catching lots of fish gets boring he will want to catch big fish.  When his evolution is complete it will not be necessary to catch big fish, lots of fish, or even any fish at all if the experience is good enough.  For the evolved angler, just fishing with his favorite method is enough to satisfy his fishing needs with the results being a secondary perk. 

For example, there is a sect of fly fisherman who only want to catch steelhead on a swung dry fly.  Catching a steelhead is a tough venture given their relatively low numbers with respect to the amount of fresh water within which they reside.  Catching them on a fly rod is even tougher.  Catching one on a swung fly is even a little more difficult.   Then getting steel on a swung dry fly is the ultimate challenge short only of pulling a steelhead out of the water with your bare hands.  While I can appreciate the challenge, I just don’t see the point. 

To me, fishing is about the act of trying to catch fish with the emphasis on catching fish.  While the act of fishing can be extremely cathartic and relaxing it soon turns into outright boredom if I am not catching anything.  Freud might suggest that I am fixated on my catching-large-numbers-of-fish stage, but he can go screw his cocaine-snorting self.  I might just be an un-evolved primate who uses a long stick to fish, but I want to catch fish when I go fishing, damn it!  That’s the whole point! 

Of the numerous fly fishing styles there are three main styles: dry fly, streamer, and nymphing.  Dry fly fishing is the most traditional method and garners more fanatical fisherman than any of the fly fishing styles.  It is definitely a cool experience seeing a trout or steelhead take a fly off of the surface.  When a hatch is flush and the fish are taking them, fishing dry flies can undoubtedly be the most effective tactic.  Unfortunately, flush hatches are more of the exception than the rule.  Streamer fishing is based on the imitation of forage fish and other larger crustaceans.  Streamer fishing usually results in much smaller numbers of fish caught, but this is how some of really big fish are caught.   Nymphing is the method of imitating the subsurface foods that a fish would consume typically using a weighted fly or weight on the line.  In the past few decades the use of strike indicators (aka bobbers to the bait fishing folk) has become a deadly tool for bite detection.  It has been estimated by the experts that 90% of a trout’s diet consists of subsurface food items, so nymphing is naturally an effective technique because it puts the fly where the trout is feeding most often. 

Like anything else indicator nymphing takes a bit of refinement to experience success.  Just tying on an indicator and a couple flies won’t “auto magically” result in fish on the line.  For a given stretch of water the depth and speed of the water must be taking into consideration when determining where on the leader the indicator needs to be placed and how much weight must be added to get the fly (or flies) down.  If the water is moving swiftly then more weight must be added to get the fly down more quickly.  The converse is true for slower water.  Once set in the correct position, the strike indicator not only acts to detect strikes, but also serves as a way to fix the effective length of the leader.  Most fish find the currents near the bottom of the river ideal for conserving energy and intercepting food (kind of like putting your recliner right next to the fridge).  Getting the fly near the bottom is critical to success.  This simple concept is the singular most important concept to effective nymphing. 

The most important purpose of the strike indicator is to detect when a fish has taken your nymph.  The indicator will usually move upstream or cross-stream and dip downwards into the water when a fish has firmly taken one of your nymphs.  The problem is that fish (especially trout) have eaten enough bugs to determine fairly quickly that a your funny looking nymph with a long brown pointy tail is a shenanigan.  Before it hooks them, the fish can spit the fly out so fast that there will almost no disturbance on the indicator.  I hate to speculate on a figure like this, but for every strike that is detected by the indicator there is at least that many that go unnoticed.  After seeing enough drifts (thousands and thousands of them) of the indicator the fisherman can develop a heightened sense for bite detection.  Even though the indicators appears to be drifting naturally impeded by neither the bottom nor fish the fisherman will set the hook for no perceptible reason and there will be a fish on the end of the line.  Dumb luck perhaps, but it begins to happen with enough regularity that it converges to something other than luck.  The best I can describe it is with The Force.  When Luke Skywalker was on the Millennium Falcon with the blast shield over his eyes and the floating laser droid was firing shots at him how did he know when to block the lasers?  The Force. 

While nymphing is arguably more effective than dry fly fishing, proponents of dry fly fishing claim that watching a bobber all day is boring and is nowhere near as visually stimulating as watching a fish slip, slurp, or crush a fly off the surface.  Okay they may have a point here, but, at least to me, the thing about dry fly fishing is that it is relatively easy.  In most dry fly scenarios, the fish’s position is already known by the observant angler.  Surface feeding fish are usually easy to see because the fish itself is visible or the fish’s rise form is definitely visible.  When fishing a nymph suspended beneath an indicator more often than not the fish is not visible.  This leads to some very exciting moments when the indicator dips or jumps upstream (indicating a strike) and hook is set into a fish of unknown species and size.  First comes the head shakes from a hooked fish, which can give away the size of the fish (fast short shakes usually means a small fish and big slow heavy shakes mean it could be a bigger fish).  The difference in headshakes between a 10” trout and a 40” king salmon are considerable.  The former is almost cute and the latter will damn near remove your shoulder from the socket.   Next comes that first sight of the fish, sometimes this is just a deep flash in the water, but other times it is a fish breaking the surface with an acrobatic aerial display.  

One spring while nymphing one of my favorite steelhead rivers, I had such a vivid first sight of the fish that it is burned into my memory to this very day (multiple years later).  I had gotten up early and had a prime run all to myself to nymph to my heart’s desire.  After a few drifts my indicator stopped and dipped and I struck.  At first nothing happened so I figured that I had hooked the bottom, which is a very common occurrence if you are nymphing properly.  A second later I watched my indicator start to surge upstream in a sound that can only be described by an out of tune violin as my leader was slicing upriver through the flowing water.  The fight was on!  As I continued the fight I got my first look at this juggernaut.  My first sight was a pale yellow torpedo shaped flash in the deeper portion of the run.  At the time I would have sworn that the flash must have been 6 feet in length; it really wasn’t but I was temporarily delusional from the fight of an epic fish.    (The picture above is the said fish.  Not 6 feet by any means, but truly a memorable fish.)   

I have handful of experiences that been just as vivid as this one was while nymphing.  I guess that my point is that nymphing can be every bit as visually exciting as seeing a fish take a dry fly.  And not only that, but the odds are that I am probably going to catch more fish too.  Sometimes just seeing the indicator dip, setting the hook, and getting that breathless first sight of a good fish is enough to make my day.  Maybe I have evolved a little bit after all. 

Persistence Yields Success

It was Thursday morning.   The previous three long days of hard fishing combined with a slight hangover due to copious quantities of whiskey and beer the night before left me in a mental and physical haze as I sat and pondered the situation. Due to the lack of rain in the Fraser River valley the past week of fishing had been slow.  The fish just weren’t up in the rivers in big numbers yet so you really had to work to get a hookup let alone a fair mouth hook.  With the water low and clear finding the fish wasn’t the problem; getting them to take a fly in the mouth was.  A 40” king salmon is about as easy to spot as a battleship on a farm pond, but for all of their size they were still unbelievably agile so presenting a fly to fish that has no interest in biting ANYTHING was lesson in futility.  Such was the case I was currently presented with.  The dozen or so fish in the runs in front of me were all closed mouthed and would avoid my presentation.

Looking to the left I see a nice pea-sized gravel bed that would make a nice spot for a little snooze to sleep off my hangover and recover some energy.  Looking to the right I see the river bend out of sight to waters unknown that if luck would have it contain biting fish. Resisting the urge to sleep I go right and down river.  I don’t need sleep right now anyway.  I can sleep when I get home, but I can’t catch monster king salmon at home!  I will have to wait (at the earliest) a whole year until the next BC trip.  Trudging downriver the pink salmon scatter as I enter and cross the river.  The pink salmon are so numerous right now (another sign the king run is late) that you can actually use a net to catch them, a feat which Phil actually achieved on Monday night.  A breeze blows the not-so-refreshing smell of rotting pink salmon carcasses in my face as I continue my trek all the while keeping an eye on the river for prospective holding water and of course battleships.  Eventually, I come to a perfect stretch of water containing a redd on the upper end and some holding water below that.  Sitting in that holding water is the battleship I have been looking for surrounded by a numerous smaller gunships, but I didn’t travel hundreds of miles and walk my tired ass down this river to just catch the smaller ones.  I want the big grumpy hook jawed mack-daddy!

Realizing that I will only get a couple shots (at best) at a fish this size, I carefully and quietly wade to within short casting distance.  Just in case my presence has been detected I patiently take my time and discreetly check my knots and adjust my setup for the water depth.  No alarms have gone off, so I strip off a bit of line, and cast.  Drift.  Cast, drift.  Cast, drift.  Cast, drift, my line stops so I pull back on the rod with the intent to break his neck.  As my rod bends, I feel the heavy repetitive pull that can only be a king shaking his head trying to free the hook.  FISH ON!!!  Now is a good time to mention that hooked kings usually fight in one of two methods: One, “I am getting the hell out of here!”, and Two,” I don’t care that I am hooked I am staying right HERE!”  The former are almost impossible to land, while the latter give you at least chance to land them.  Fortunately, my fish falls into the latter category and after bouncing around the hole a bit settles into a pulling match right around his hole.  We fight for about 5 minutes, me retrieving line whenever I can and him taking it whenever he wants to.  Slowly he tires and I am able to nose him between a couple of slick rocks for a few precarious moments while I grab his massive tail preventing him from bolting again.  I enjoy our connection for a few precious seconds before I grant his freedom along with my best wishes for the successful procreation of his progeny.  As he will die in a few short days or weeks regardless, the best I can hope for is his reproduction and that of his offspring.  I still have fishing to look forward in the next couple years, don’t I? (The picture above shows a battleship class Chinook.)

I take a couple minutes to catch my breath and enjoy the moment before I resume my dutiful fishing.  Had I not put forth the effort to walk down here, I would not have found this fish let alone hooked and landed him.  While I may not have been as weary had I taken a nap, I definitely would not have been as spiritually refreshed as I was now.  This fish was mine and mine alone for a few seconds and there was not another fisherman around to know the better. [Maybe now I can understand why my two year old son always wants to do things by himself.  There is a greater sense of accomplishment when you and you alone take on a challenge and conquer it. ]  The more I fish, the more I realize that the most important skill a fisherman can possess is persistence.  Persistence will cause a fisherman to make extra casts when the day is almost over, cause him to wade out in current that might be too swift when there is a nice run on the other side, or cause him walk a half mile down river instead of taking a nap.  Persistence is what makes a good fishing day a GREAT fishing day and more importantly what turns a tough day of fishing into a rewarding day.

Persistence does not necessarily guarantee success, but it is much harder to be successful without it.  I have had all too many long walks down stream that produced no fish.  But on almost every jaunt I learn something be it a new piece of water, which rocks not to step on, or some exceptionally awesome way to spook a fish.  If the jaunt fails my fallback excuse is at least I am getting some exercise.  I have also found that persistence has an equally important impact in other phases of life.  For example, I don't know how many thousands of balls I had to hit this season in BP and off of a batting tee to get the hitch out of my swing, but eventually the persistence paid off and I started raking the ball.  Anyhow, I digress.

Satisfied, I began the long haul back up river to see if I could spread my good karma with the rest of the guys.   Habitually, I kept an eye on the river as I progressed and what did I find not 100 yards above the previous hole but another good sized king.  It definitely was not another battleship class fish, but a fish worthy of trying to hook nonetheless.  I channeled my inner great blue heron and approached him as stealthily as I could muster given my big clumsy feet and slime covered rocks.  This time I was able to get even closer to the fish without spooking him than I was the last one.  Through the gin clear water I could see every flick of his fins as he comfortably held in the seam behind a beefy boulder.  As my egg pattern drifted by his nose a third time I saw his snout twitch just the tiniest bit and out of instinct I struck.  FISH ON!!!
  

I did eventually find my way back up river to meet back up with the boys. Things were looking a bit stagnant as they had been fishing the same spots as when I left them.  As the day wore on the focus of the day began to gradually shift (as it always inevitably did) from fishing to taking generous nips of whiskey.  At this point I was happy to have found my own fresh(er) fish so I was mostly content to challenge the whiskey level while the others kept fishing the honey hole.  I couldn't help myself though, my eyes kept going to the water watching for deep submarines and could help notice a few fish pushing up through the riffle and resting above.

So there I sat pondering my situation.   Should I continue to investigate my friendship with Jack Daniels (potentially crushing a few pieces of pepperoni along the way) or do I get off my ass, cross the river and tease a few of these resting fish?  I can drink later tonight, but I can't catch kings from my stool at the pub!  The first fish was an "I'm getting the hell out of here" fish and exploded upstream before breaking off.  Two minutes later a 2nd fish surged under my rod.  Somewhere between the 3rd and 4th fish I looked across the river and saw 4 blank stares from my fishing crew that said, "you persistent son of a bitch!" I took it as a compliment.