Late Summer Recap - The Skunk Continues

It's been an entire month with nary a post.

That's not good in the blogosphere!

Yikes. Work has kept me on the run and with a lack of good results from my few fly trips, I suppose I've been a bit embarrassed to post about getting skunked.

Speaking of getting skunked... it's getting old!

Sure, I've knocked the crap outta steelhead and pink salmon this year on friend's boats fishing gear, but it's been a rough go on the spey rod. I did get into some Pinks on the fly last week on the Skagit which was pretty fun despite the fish looking like zombies (I think zombies would smell better though). I'm still waiting on that big tug from a Summer-head though...

When I think about it, I'm fairly certain that I've hit the 7,500 cast mark with nary a good hookup to show for it. I've fished the right water, the right bugs, and anymore it seems like I'm fishing the "right" way. Hell, I've even fished two times with guides and I'm still sitting on an 0-fer. The temptation to get a bait rod is constantly in the back of my mind but I haven't caved... yet.

Time to get back on the horse, rig up the long rod, and keep grinding.

With it being the "other" busy season for my job I'll likely only get out a few more times until November but the Deschutes is calling my name and I think I'll have to go for a visit tomorrow.

Thankfully there are lots of trout in the Deschutes. It makes you feel good to know that you won't get completely shut out. If there's one thing I can catch, it is whitefish trout.

Get out there and make your own adventures... be they fish-less or not.

Ways to Fish Less Often...

Lately, I've found ways to fish less often than I'd like to. Sure, we'd all like to fish more than we do, but I've rarely gotten out at all. Thinking back to last summer, I was knee deep in trout fishing and rabies exposure shots at this point.

Oh well...

Here are some fantastic ways to find yourself fishing less often than you'd like:

1. Buy an old house... (Build a fence, re-landscape a yard, deal with broken plumbing, etc)

2. Work... a lot. (Days off are few and far between lately)

3. Drive 3,000+ miles this month for work alone. Yeah, that's equivalent to driving to Craig, Montana twice (round trip)

4. High water temps and low conditions on local rivers. (It's not good on the fish and it sure makes for tough catching) 

I will admit to a few early-hours sessions including a nice day up on the Upper NFL with a new fishing friend, and one recent gear chucking jaunt on some local water that produced a Summer-run fish for the dinner table. 

Cedar planks and Summer runs go hand in hand!

I guess my past month isn't that bad, but here's to enjoying the days on the water to the fullest. I'm looking forward to some diverse fishing this August (Steelhead, Sea-Runs, Pinks, and more!)

Tight Lines.

Skunk Off...

Skunked: If you go fishing and catch nothing

I've been really good at catching nothing lately. Heck, it had been well over a month since I had landed a fish... sure, I've hooked trout and a mystery fish while swinging flies up in BC, but my futility streak had reached a breaking point. I needed to catch a damn fish.

Knowing that Steelhead are elusive creatures this time of year, I dragged my Dad out to Central Oregon with high hopes of putting up big numbers of trout on the Fall River. 

The Fall is a lovely, yet eerily artificial fishery south of Bend that has treated me very well my last few trips there. 99% of the fish are hatchery in origin and while there are a few lunkers hiding in downed timber, the majority of the fish are cookie cutter 8-12" planters. With my recent string of bad luck, the idea of 20-30 planters on the end of my 3 weight line sounded great!

After an early rise, we busted over the mountain, across the lovely Deschutes, past the turn off for the Crooked River, and the turn off for the Metolius. Either of those other stops would've been a good call and shorter haul! 

After arriving at my favorite spot on the river we cast, and cast, and cast... and we saw no fish. Hiking a nearly a mile up and downstream to hole after productive hole we were dumbfounded as to where all the fish were. We'd see a lone trout hiding in the downed trees but the normal honey holes were void of all trout life! Not even a blizzard mayfly hatch later in the day aroused activity.

Sure enough, we come to find out what had been going on. Recently, a family of otters had made their way back upriver from the Deschutes... let's just say they've been eating very well. River otters are cool creatures but given that an adult otter eats 2-3 pounds of fish per day, you can see that they can make a big impact on less wary hatchery trout. 

After three hours of crap catching, we decided to tuck our tails and make the hour diversion to the Crooked River. The Crooked has not exactly been kind to me (which is perplexing given it's reputation as easy water) but I was determined not to go home skunked.

We arrived to a very windy, and thankfully less pressured fishery, than I had encountered at the Crooked in early March. BWOs were coming off in droves, and there were a few small risers working the inside seams. I rigged up the nymph rod and went to work. Soon enough, three casts in a row were met with three hookups and landings. Life was good again. 

I caught typical Crooked River wild Redsides (6"-12") and though they weren't close to the size of a Steelhead, landing my first few felt just as great.  

As the day progressed, the focus was more on my Dad's casting and getting him into fish. He's not delved into fly fishing like I have and he has never had a casting lesson in his life. I'm not a true instructor, but working with him was a fantastic experience. He was throwing out some fantastic casts by the end of the day and he was working good water. If he hadn't had some short strikes and bad luck (he lost at least one fish), we both would've gone home skunk free.

Before we packed it up to drive the 3+ hours home, I insisted on working the dry fly rod. My 3 WT Sage had yet to land a fish on it and there were too many BWOs out on the water to ignore. Sure, I didn't see many risers and the wind was nasty, but I couldn't NOT make an effort. 

Blind casting through the middle of the River as I worked my way back up to the car I had a surreal moment. A subtle rise and sip of my emerger pattern, a nice flash, and the setting of the hook seemed to happen in slow motion. After this momentary blip of slow-mo perfection, the fish shot out of the water, jumping many times. 

This was not any old Crooked River fish, but rather a big fish for the watershed. She fought me tooth and nail and on a 3 WT, the near 15" Redside was like a Steelhead in my mind. A quick net, picture, and revival and she sped back to her prime lie. 

A perfect ending to a great day, and the skunk is officially off. 

Oh Canada!

Vacation... in my mind, that should mean fishing trip. And I used a few days of time off to head north for what proved to be an amazing fishing (not catching of course) trip. A friend picked me up from a work event in Bellingham and off to the border we went!

It's been a very long time since I've visited Canada and I was excited to see just how quick and easy my enhanced ID would be at the border. With minimal lines, we were asked a few questions and soon enough we were in beautiful British Columbia. Just a few hours later we found ourselves pulling off the Sea to Sky highway in scenic Squamish, BC. A beer and a round of Poutine at a local pub was a nice welcome for us. After the "refuel" we checked into our hotel and then geared up for some tributary fishing in the area.

We only had about 5 hours to fish on our first day in town and we made the most of it. After driving a mere 15 minutes from our hotel, we set up on a pretty obvious run off a very obvious pull out. Other fisherman were milling around and I was certain that this was not as remote nor unique a fishery as we had originally conjured. Nevertheless, my friend was hooked up within 10 minutes of getting his waders wet! A 20"+ Bull Trout came to the shore after a rather mundane fight and we thought we were in for days of fast and furious action.

Not so fast! 

We didn't touch a fish the rest of the day on our tributary exploration though we certainly put some effort into it. After a short night's sleep we headed upriver to fish the mainstem of the Squamish system. Much of the river is not fishable due to Tribal lands and we had to run nearly 30 miles up the river before finding open water... This water is not your average fishery. 

This is BIG water. Braided and natural, the river changes course every year during runoff. Your favorite run is often times gone the next year and this is evident in the log jams and old riverbeds that litter the banks and islands of the upper river. Despite it's complexity, seeing a river in a truly natural state is almost as amazing as catching your first Steelhead. 

Working our first nice run of the day I experienced a pretty solid take. In typical Skinny Waders fashion, I flubbed it up. Wham... another tug... instead of letting the fish take more, I turned the rod in towards shore and tried to set... a good sized splash and loss of tension and there was nothing attached. I can't confirm what species it was, but I sure felt pumped to feel a tug, and pissed that I messed the whole deal up. 

We fished on, with a break to go back into town and get more medicine (I was fishing with a NASTY cold) and beer. The beer up north was not only 40% more expensive but it was also a far cry in quality from the delicious beer found here in Oregon and Washington. Thankfully the medicine was better than the stuff stateside and it was much more reasonable. I'll call that a wash for this trip. 

After our daily refuel we drove back upriver and crossed channels onto island after island. These gravel islands were crisscrossed by washed down timber, piled high upon the banks. These timber graveyards are beautiful but also very dangerous. Climbing over the wrong piece can result in some serious injuries should it splinter or break. It was slow going as we methodically worked run after run of perfect swing water.

The scenery on the river made the day rewarding, as did the casting practice. We felt like we worked the water well and we left the river that night eager to meet up with our guides on the lower river the next morning.

Our guided adventure started innocently enough at the local Tim Hortons Donut Shop. I was in heaven eating industrial donuts that conjured up my long lost memories of Dunkin Donuts in Gresham. After slamming down some delicious donuts and downing some crap coffee, we met our guides Yos Gladstone and Tommy Thomson of Chromer Sport Fishing. 

Two men to a Watermaster raft, we took off down a tributary river starting our fishing day at a beautiful confluence spot on the lower mainstem. This water was incredible... merely 8 kilometers from the salt and less than that to the town of Squamish, we were in Steelhead nirvana. The only sad part was the lack of fish. You see, the system averages just 1,500 fish back per year with the prime issues in the watershed being headwater logging and gill netting. It's a shame because as a whole, their habitat looked much better than rivers I've seen in the lower 48 and they didn't have hatchery steelhead to compete with their wild stock fish. 

Undeterred by long odds, Yos and Tommy put us on run after run of the most prime water I've ever seen. These runs would've been overlooked by most anglers and they sure were hard to reach, but they all swung beautifully. 

Yos took my casting, which had already greatly improved over the past 3 months, and he helped me bring it to the next level. I've never felt more confident behind the spey rod as I was throwing bombs to 80 feet and feeling great about it. We fished hard and we fished a longer than average day as we stayed on the water for over 11 hours! Our lunch break consisted of cold pizza and warm beers (whoops!) during a quick break between runs... we just wanted to fish! 

Yos (the owner of Chromer) and Tommy are two of the most down to earth guides I've ever had the pleasure of spending time with. I admit that I've never fished with a crappy fly guide, but they went above and beyond my previous guided experiences. It was like fishing with guys that you've known forever... Chromer offers trips in all of the best watersheds in British Columbia and if you want to fish in BC, you'd be crazy to book your trip with anybody else! 

The guys kept us in the right mindset, and if it was any other person coaching me I'm not sure if I wouldn't have started to get down on the situation. Truth is, I was fishing better than ever and there was nothing more that we could've done to get into fish. We hit the river in low but prime shape, during the typical peak of their spring Steelhead run, and we fished the best and least pressured runs on the river. I guess it was just another dose of Steelhead reality.

Candid camera... the best skunking I've ever had! Photo by Yos Gladstone

After getting off the river and grabbing a good bit of pub food (a strange theme during this trip), we hit the rack. I've never fished that hard, nor been that tired after a day on the water. Despite being skunked again, it was strangely rewarding. Beautiful scenery, great water, and fantastic company!

The next day we hit the lower river for a few hours of DIY prospecting with no love. After fueling up with crappy liter rate gas, we grabbed some more Tim Hortons to-go and made for the border. Seven hours later I found myself back at home, skunked but feeling more alive then ever.

Oh Canada. You were great. I can't wait to fish you again... and eat your donuts!

Swinging before the great flood...

Rain, rain, go away, come again another day!

Last week I was able to get out to the Klickitat for a day on the water with my Dad. He's never fly fished for steelhead, nor spey cast before. I'm still a true spey rookie but with each trip, I feel that my casting improves.

On the Klickitat, we braved cool temperatures and light rainfall fishing in the Canyon and even exploring some of the river above Leidl campground. It was surreal, swinging in the fog covered flats, watching salmon completing their life cycle in the tail outs, and driving my numerous wild turkey.

No steelhead to hand (surprise, surprise as my Dad nymphed up an eager whitefish), but we did beat the downpour by a few hours. Upon leaving the river, the rains started in earnest, blowing out the Klickitat by the middle of the next day. Who can complain about spending time on beautiful water with your old man and a beer though? I sure wont!

Back to bench, tying, and waiting for the next time on the water. Soon enough, I will connect with a steelhead on the swing...

The Highs and Lows of Trout Fishing...

This past week has been a roller coaster of sorts for me. I've fished two well known, fish packed bodies of water and have had two extremely different experiences.

To start the week off, I took my Grandfather along for a trip to Diamond Lake in Southern/Central Oregon. The drive down was miserably long (I had worked the night prior and slept for just a few hours), but upon arriving to the lake (a big one at 3,000 acres!) I was excited.

I've caught more fish out of Diamond Lake then I care to count. The lake is not only massive, but it holds Rainbow trout that average over a pound. Fish to 10 pounds swim in Diamond and a 20" fish wont raise an eyebrow on the dock. When we went to rent our boat though, something told me we were in for a rough day. Near sixty degree water temps and an algae bloom (pretty odd for October!) had kept fishing slow according to the resort staff. After driving 5 hours though, we didn't relent and hit the water.

Early in the day, my Grandfather caught a fish on eggs and since he was nose hooked, we released the little guy. I fly fished to my hearts content trying nearly every lake method I know. Nada. Most boats complained about off fishing, and these folks complaining were pitching power bait. Not good!

6+ hours on the water and I had just one definite strike. It was a first for me, a skunking at Diamond Lake. We tucked our tails between our legs and hit the road, homeward bound down the gorgeous N. Umpqua highway. I watched in envy as fisherman spey cast to Steelhead around every bend. I knew I needed a fish fix!

Low and behold, I returned to Central Oregon in the same week. A family member had work to do in Bend and I offered to drive, knowing that I could get 4-6 hours in on some water near town. With such a limited time frame I decided to hit a well known and easy to fish spring creek, the Fall River.

The Fall River is a beautiful spring creek that flows into the Deschutes near La Pine. The lower Fall, ironically below the Fall River Falls, holds native Redside/Redband trout, whitefish, and some monster Brown trout. Regrettably, the lower river closed the week before I made it down to Bend, so I was relegated to fish the upper river which is stocked with Rainbow trout from the Fall River hatchery. These fish stocked are from Crane Prairie Reservoir stock and are actually very attractive hatchery fish, but I must admit they still leave much to be desired compared to wild, native trout.

Some of the trout in the upper Fall reach upwards of 8 pounds, and I did spot a few lunkers hiding under the numerous downed logs in the stream. These big boys are targeted specifically by many local anglers and can be quite picky. Most fish in the river are 8-12" though, and these are what I had a field day with.

BWOs, Mahogany Duns, even a Callibaetis attractor, rose fish to the surface. I tried to target rising fish when it came to fishing dries. Many fisherman working dry flies seemed frustrated that they couldn't get fish to eat... they were simply fishing the wrong method in the wrong spots.

I worked a small double nymph rig through holes, putting a clinic of sorts on. Carefully working the nymph along the volcanic bedrock ledges under water, and around downed trees, I picked up some solid fish. In fact, I hooked one fish that was all of 17" and had him to the net before he came unbuttoned. CDC collar PTs, anato may nymphs, October Caddis pupa, and a good old tungsten weight fly were hot items for the trout.

By the end of my 5 hours of fishing in two different areas, I had caught at least 30 fish. I stopped counting at a certain point because it was so ridiculous. No, these weren't the wild trout that I so dearly love to catch, nor were they monster trout out of a lake that fight with reckless abandon. But they were a needed pick me up of sorts. An affirmation that I still am a fishy dude, even if I haven't gotten out as much as I would like to.

I guess one could say that the Fall River is like Prozac for a recently skunked fly fisherman.

Next time though, I'll up the game. I'll be wading the Metolius River chasing Bull trout with streamers. And I will most definitely be on the prowl for Steelhead as we have just received some much needed rain to get the fish active.

But for now, I'm content with my week of experiencing the highs and lows of trout fishing on the fly.

It's Not Called Catching... For a Reason

I think the title says it all. The old BS saying, "It's called fishing, not catching..." really does hold true. It's all a part of the game that we knowingly, and lovingly play. Most of my recent trips have been successful, so apparently I needed a reminder of what getting skunked is like...

Here's how it went down...

The long work days this past weekend, coupled with my success on the river on Saturday A.M. may have gotten me a bit cocky.

"I'm gonna get 'em tomorrow... caddis pupa, soft pockets off heavy currents, etc... I'm dialed..."

I deserved what I had coming...

I met up on Sunday A.M. with Wayne Jordan to try and up my score on my lovely urban waterway. First hole (my usual $ hole) proved to be dead... perhaps I hooked the few trout that reside here yesterday and they are spooked, so we moved on. Wayne pointed out a nice looking little run. Tough to get to (drift was around some submerged brush) but sure enough, first cast, fish on. 10 seconds later... fish off. That would be the story of the day.

Next hole, fish on. This one was substantial and made an appearance near me before diving to the depths. It looked to be a Brown trout... and I've never landed a Brown on this particular river as they are exceedingly rare. Of course it came unbuttoned as well.

Wayne was matching my success with a few takes and no solid hook ups on streamers and nymphs.

We crossed over the river and worked another section. I had a fish chase my fly as I brought it in. Figuring the fish were keying on movement, I let my caddis pupa pattern swing on the next cast through the hole. Fish on... fish off. Unbuttoned.

Next cast... same game. But this one was on for a good amount of time. Felt like a nice fish, and my 6 wt was bent in agreement. A minute later, and a few runs and my fly came back at me again. Another strike on a retrieve, a short fight, and a fishless fly came back before we called it a day. 5 hook ups. No landings. Really?

I'm not new to such things. What fly fisherman doesn't know the pain of losing a good fish? I'd like to meet this magical fisherman and learn their tricks if they even exist. At least my reactions to losing hooked fish aren't nearly as ridiculous as they used to be... (see loud, frustrated, potentially profane, etc)

Here's a gem of a shot that Wayne took of me in the fall on a local lake. I, of course, lost this nice Rainbow a few seconds after the photo was taken. I'm fairly certain that things were muttered that I cannot type on this blog.

Losing Hooked Fish. It Beats Not Hooking Them At All!

Annoyed with the results of our Sunday A.M. trip, Wayne and I met up for a few hours of fishing before sunset on Monday. The river had risen 3,500+ CFS over the past 20 hours and despite heavy rainfall and higher flows, there were fish working the surface. We nymphed, fished dries, and I threw some streamers just for the heck of it. Nada. Not one strike. The only thing of significance was me loosing my waterproof point/shoot camera somewhere along the river. (Which after a morning search is still missing... time for a new one). Oh, and a skunk ran in front of my car on the way home, though I avoided hitting it by a few feet... ironic or what?!

After Monday evening's debacle, I've come to a few conclusions. One, getting skunked is never welcomed, but it's always educational. On Sunday, I was doing many things right (hooking 5 fish in a few hours on my favorite urban river is not a bad day!) but I learned that I needed to scout my spots better to fight/land fish, and improve my fish fighting tactics. On Monday, I learned a few things as well... the flows were getting tough, I need to double check my pockets/secure my camera in the future, and I should get back to refilling my fly box while the river is out of shape from all this rain!

Caddis Pupa Lineup. Money Patterns... Olive, Caddis Green, Tan, and Brown.