The Fishing Report-- in which we realize it's not a contest...

I just got back from one of the most stunning fishing trips I have had in years--and I probably won't tell you where I went. 

It's something I've struggled with for almost as many years--the idea or worry that some of our best Blue Ribbon trout streams are being loved and trampled to death--so why add to the pressure of overuse?  The internet and social media have the potential to draw more attention and more crowds to any fishery; and many of the fisheries I enjoy are especially fragile. Adding insult to injury, the California Department of Fish and Game has proven itself to be the cowardly lion when it comes to addressing issues of overuse and crowding.

I think this is also in part why I chose to teach flyfishing rather than guiding--although one can do both; and in my sometimes not so humble opinion, the best guides do both, sharing their knowledge and their love of the sport and for the resource.  That being the case, and with your permission, may I at least share a few thoughts and offer a few tips for the beginners and intermediate level anglers--even if I won't divulge exactly where I went?

This was a trip that was spectacular on so many levels.  The late fall colors, even in California, are especially vibrant after the first rains wash the dust off and the area was a panoply of oaks, alders and evergreens--a russet and green canvas of fall fresh.  The night sky, cold and clear, was a sea of shattered pearls... Shattered in that the sky was filled with a million tiny specks, bigger fragments and the glowing dust of creation.  The fish were in a mood to eat almost everything I offered them as well and soon the numbers of hooked, lost and landed fish began adding up in an almost obscene way.

To have continued fishing would have bordered on excess and gluttony--and my fishing companions were commenting, although the comments were complimentary--or so they thought.  It is also at exactly this point that I stopped fishing.  I have nothing to prove--to myself or anyone else.  I don't feel the need to come back to camp with a "body count" or having caught the most fish or the biggest fish.  Buddha suggests we surrender the ego and so I did.

...and then there is this thing called protecting the resource or "stewardship" because, no matter how careful I am or you are, we are having an impact.  The more fish I have caught, the greater the risk that I will have unintentionally killed one.  No matter how careful we are with catch and release, 2%, and sometimes far more fish will be seriously injured to die later, hidden and unknown even to the most conscientious angler. Then there is the act of wading itself, possibly spreading disease and invasive weeds, didymo and the dreaded mud snail.  At a minimum though, we are trampling and collapsing stream banks and uprooting delicate aquatic vegetation--and silting up the stream for anybody downstream.  Personally I fish from the bank when I can, staying back a comfortable distance and only approaching the waters edge when I need to release a fish.

  ...so I have begun to curtail my fishing and hopefully, my impact.  This weekend, I put down my rod, took off my vest, gathered up some firewood and headed back to camp to warm myself in front of the fire even though it looked like there might be a decent evening rise.  I was satiated.  I was content and for a few moments, at peace with the world.

What did happen?  Is it luck when we have a day or a weekend like this?  Do some anglers just have the innate ability to walk on water, cast incredible distances, have amazing luck and can catch fish in a rain barrel?  If that is the case, I am NOT one of those people!  My casting is an embarrassment; I am not especially coordinated (I fall off of bar stools even when sober) and my fly patterns are generally --pardon the expression--butt ugly.  You won't see me on the lecture or show circuit any time soon.

I know this about myself so I try to compensate in other ways.  Maybe it helps if we think of flyfishing as a 500 piece jigsaw puzzle.  Sometimes we can guess at what the puzzle might be but USUALLY the more pieces one has in place, the easier it is to figure out the big picture.  So it is with flyfishing.  Mull over all the components or tools we have or can develop (if we want), each one of them being a part of the puzzle. We can also take those skills or that knowledge and hone it to an even finer level, making up for those pieces of the puzzle--or skills--that I will never have

Let's stay with the Eastern philosophy as well:  We become one with our quarry.  The beginner, for example, can pick up a catalog or head to the local fly shop and pick up a handful of flies.  Maybe they will have gotten a few recommendations but at some point, they need to figure out the connection between what the fish are eating and the patterns they have selected.  Just the same, if one uses generic flies, one can usually expect generic results; and the creative fly tyer has an advantage. 

It's at the point where we begin to develop our knowledge of  aquatic entomology that we can come up with some really effective fly patterns. Of course, understanding entomology means an angler is getting a mini course in biology, hydrology, and thermal dynamics. Did I just lose you?   In lay terms, we eventually learn that certain insects like certain parts of the stream--and why.  We learn how temperature affects both fish and insects--seeing as how both are cold blooded.  We also know--or should know that the hatchery trout is dumber than a board whereas the wild fish is the model of biological efficiency--another way of saying "lazy" --so we look for places where the food is brought to the wary trout. We look at and recognize the ideal current speed for both fish and insects.  ...and the beginner -- any of us-- begin to accumulate more parts of the puzzle.

Speaking of patterns and biology--and lazy trout--don't lose sight of the fact that trout are efficient feeders AND predators.  Opportunistic feeding is more myth than fact.  Sure--a trout might grab something put right in it's face but more often than not, the bite--or catching--is a constant ebb and flow of activity tied to the availability and abundance of food.  The prey predator relationship  (becoming one with your quarry) comes into play if we think of trout as wolves picking out the weakest or most vulnerable member of the insect herd.  Usually that is the emerging insect--the nymph struggling to free itself of its exoskeleton--or insects struggling to dry their wings so they can fly away.

Presentation is also part of the puzzle--and there are many many ways to present a fly.  Going back to our rudimentary knowledge of entomology, are we mimicking a slow moving lumbering insect?  Is it a fast moving insect that swims well?  Maybe we should use something besides a dead drift and indicator, seeing as how the dead drift is just one piece of our proverbial puzzle.  Add techniques like grease lining or the Leisering Lift to your arsenal and you potentially have more parts to the puzzle.

This is all a long winded way of saying the Baetis and Psuedocloeon were hatching.  It is that time of year and the weather conditions were near perfect.  ...and did I just say something about insects being cold blooded?  Many insects cannot dry their wings if the weather is cold and damp--which means they are on the surface of the water far longer AND THE TROUT KNOW IT!  Baetis like this kind of weather, though.

Baetis are, in my opinion, a dream hatch and far more predictable than the more celebrated October Caddis. They are an active swimming insect (and streamlined --avoid those patterns that look like a python that just swallowed a puppy) so we need to put the tiniest bit of movement on our flies instead of struggling to get the perfect dead drift.  They often come off in incredible numbers and struggle to get off the waters surface so it is hard for a trout to resist the temptation to gorge themselves.  Adding to the gluttony, many trout will be bulking up--literally--for the long winter ahead--so they are eating every bug in sight!  The only challenge--maybe--is to figure out which part of the watershed they will be coming off on. Unfortunately, there are many species of Baetis and each group has a preferred habitat.  Some like smooth flowing weedy water while others are shallow riffle dwellers.    I rarely look anywhere other than the fast shallow riffles or slow weedy water--assuming there is good holding water nearby.  A shallow riffle with little cover or no deeper water nearby rarely holds any larger trout or numbers of fish ...unless it is nursery water --and I am not interested in catching the babies!

This is also where luck comes into play.  The weather conditions looked good--cool with some cloud cover and a stable barometer; and it was the right time of year.   There is never a guarantee that the bugs will actually hatch, though; nor was I sure what species would be hatching. It's maddening but there are roughly 40 species that are referred to as "Blue Wing Olives" and  close to 20 are Baetis species.  As I fly tyer, I've covered some of my bases by coming up with subtle variations on color and size and patterns that represent every stage of the life cycle of the Baetis; perfecting these patterns over the years--but I can never predict the actual hatch.

This weekend I had almost all the parts of the puzzle.  The water was blanketed with Baetis and the smaller Psuedocloeon--and I had the patterns in my fly boxes.  I can't tell you how enjoyable it was looking for the more challenging trout in weed choked water and braided currents--but I thrive on that at times. There is something about seeing a nose poke out of the water to gulp an insect in an impossible slot and finally putting your fly in that slot and getting the perfect drift--and the fish.   I found a bit of  pre-hatch activity in some faster water as well and did away with my indicator.  High sticking or short line nymphing as some anglers like to call it and working a Leisering Lift into my drift resulted in countless hook ups.  Countless...  I lost track.   There is also something about the directness of the connection between you and the trout when one high sticks.  I suppose that is also why I prefer the dry fly.  Casting an unencumbered fly becomes poetry.   Meanwhile  and recalling the writings of greats like Vincent Marinaro, I studied the rise forms of the trout once they actually began rising and soon realized that a low floating pattern or a nymph in the surface film was going to be far more effective.

  suffice to say, it was a very satisfying weekend...  Innumerable hook ups; amazing numbers of fish landed--and all on some very technical water--and most of it with a dry fly.

If you can head out SOON, you might catch the tail end of this hatch but Baetis will continue to hatch throughout the winter on some of our lower elevation rivers and streams with some amazing hatches January and February.  One caveat though: As the temperatures drop, the fishes digestive system is slowing as well so the catching can become far more sporadic and more unpredictable with the fish gorging themselves one day and then taking a day or more to digest what they just ate. I guess the only thing I ask is that you become stewards of the resource if I've shared anything you didn't already know...  Regardless, flyfishing isn't--or shouldn't be a competition to see who catches the most fish.  If anything, it is a personal challenge to figure out the puzzle--to find all the parts and fit them into place.  "Catching" is just another way that the universe tells us we have figured out more of the puzzle.