Trout From The Sky

I was having a very uneventful morning (aka on my way to getting skunked) at the West Branch the other day when things turned around in a way I never would have expected. A truck suddenly pulled over on the bridge right above where I was fishing and the driver got out. "This West Branch?". Yup. That confirmed, he climbed up on the back of the truck and started casually dumping huge nets full of trout over the side of the bridge. Then he got back in and drove away without a word. For some reason I'd always thought the stocking process was very scientific and methodical. Introducing these delicate little trout to the wild with an encouraging little push and all that. In reality, it's actually much closer to sanitation work- in reverse. Still, regardless of his technique, this guy has the most important job in the world in my opinion. And I'm glad he stopped by.

I went over and checked things out. The bridge had a very new, large population of small trout congregating under it in the shade. I'm only a tiny bit ashamed to admit I tried to catch some of them right then and there. Who wouldn't, right? I hooked a couple and left soon after. The phrase "shooting fish in a barrel" kept coming to mind. But hey, wasn't like I was bringing them home with me. And it sure beats getting skunked.

Against The Wind

Day One: Sometimes you can plan all you want and then nature reminds you who is really in charge. Despite a significant amount of rain on Friday, I had plans to fish this weekend and that was that. Since the Amawalk was a little on the low side last time I figured a little rain might actually improve the situation. So that's where I went on Saturday morning. The second I stepped out of the truck a sound not unlike a waterfall greeted me. Oops. Guess I should have checked the flow online. I decided then that this would be more of a research day (aka getting skunked) and figured I'd hike around and see more of the stream than I have in the past. As I walked along the steep hill that hems in the stream I had a great bird's eye view of the rushing water. I've read many tips that recommend doing this before fishing, but I've never had the patience to not just get in there and start flailing away. Now I see the merit of this approach. This view from above provided such a clear sense of the water and where there might be trout on a normal day. And then, tucked into a tight bend where the water slowed, I saw the broad side of a nice brown as it flashed out from under a branch. It was steadily rising. Whoa. Of course, I scrambled down the hill , rigged up a dry fly and started plotting my approach. I'm not building anything up here- I did not catch this fish. He was deep within some low hanging branches and the various currents made it pretty hard to get anything to drift in there in a natural way. But I gave it a shot. And it might have even worked if I'd thought about it more before I rushed in,  but my efforts soon put this fish to rest from feeding. Still, I liked this spot and decided to nymph for a little while before moving on. I won't go into great detail about the two stockies that I managed to catch, but it was great to bring a couple fish to net when I really didn't expect any at all. And I walked a little more and found some future spots I'll return to for sure. I think this is becoming my favorite stream.

 

Day Two: I've written about my intentions to catch a trout on the fly on Kensico this year and Sunday was my first chance to give it a shot. The weather forecast looked good- cold, but low wind in the morning. I packed up a few rods and my boat gear and got on the water by 7am, which was probably on the late side for Kensico. One thing I've learned about reservoir fishing is that you really want to be there at dawn. There was already a slight breeze in the air, which was a really bad sign. By 8:00 it was officially windy. This was not supposed to happen, what about that forecast? I rowed around a bit, trolling a streamer on sink tip line, but it was just plain unpleasant. The wind was biting cold and I was pretty sure my streamer wasn't even close to being deep enough. I decided to admit defeat and come back another day. I saw a lot of other boats out there,  looking determined and surely cursing the weather channel as they rowed into the wind. Oh well. It's only April.

Wrangling Tippet: The Trash Fish

Tippet always seems to be an issue for me. Whether it's spilling from the spools on my bag or just tangling up somewhere, it seems like I'm constantly messing around with it. I also never know where to store all those trimmed ends that come from a day's fishing. Fluorocarbon is notoriously resilient- it won't degrade on its own for a very long time. So I do my best not to leave any behind on the stream. I came across a brilliant solution, thanks to a recent giveaway from Fiberglass Manifesto that I thought I'd pass along. The Trash Fish Spent Line Wrangler from Smith Creek. It's genius in its simplicity- just wrap your tippet pieces around this little gadget and store the loops on it until you get home. I'm sure it also doubles as a bottle opener with a little ingenuity.

The Amawalk

With the season now in full swing, I decided to check out some of the Croton streams I've been missing during the cold months .The West Branch is one of my favorites in our watershed, just like most people here who own a fly rod or two. There are a couple spots in particular that are just textbook trout lies and have produced some very large fish in the past. This was not one of those days. I went with a friend and things were pretty slow, possibly due to the unexpectedly cold weather. Or maybe the renewed pressure after a winter break from anglers. After a couple fishless hours (for me anyway, he caught one) we decided to pack it up and go fish the Amawalk.

That turned out to be a great decision. The fishing wasn't much better really, but the stream itself is just a beautiful place to be. I had almost forgotten what a special place this is. It's a classic small stream- lots of overhead obstacles and areas of tight pocket water that make nymphing challenging. Such a difference from the well worn spots I've been fishing for the past few months. The whole stream just feels alive- and it won't be long before it really is teaming with plants and insects. And well hidden brown trout. I only caught one of these guys that day- but it was a beautiful little fish. A wild one for sure with buttery yellow coloring, white edged fins, and bright red spots. It jumped a few times while I fought it, in a way that made me wonder if it had ever been hooked before. Though I'd be surprised if it hadn't been, the Amawalk is no secret and for good reason.

Getting Ready for the Sulphur Hatch

Dry fly fishing is really my first love, there's just nothing quite like seeing a fish take your fly on the surface. Especially when you've spotted an active riser and made just the right cast to get in their lane. And my favorite time to fish dries is almost here- the Sulphur hatch. We had a great one last year and this time I want to be prepared and try using my own flies. I tied a lot of nymphs and streamers over the winter, with varying success, but I haven't had much experience tying dries. I thought I'd start with the Light Cahill, a fly that I had a lot of success with last year. This one is far from perfect, but I think it might get the job done. Apparently there is much debate as to the "proper" way of tying a Light Cahill in the traditional Catskill style . That doesn't concern me much- if these flies catch fish that's all I care about. We'll see.

Finally- A Fly Fishing Movie on Netflix!

UPDATE: I finally watched this movie last night and it's a beautiful film to take in. The Yellowstone is a very unique river and this movie is dedicated to preserving its health and meeting the people whose lives are deeply intertwined with it. This isn't the typical kind of fly fishing movie with lots of action and dramatic footage- it's more of a documentary/road trip and its leisurely pace draws from the calm flow of the river. There's a lot of running commentary throughout- there were many times that I would have preferred some dialogue-free time to just take in the scenery. Still, there is some fun fishing to watch in this film (particularly one scene of a battle with a powerful carp) and the river has a mesmerizing presence throughout. It's also quite jarring to see how polluted the lower parts of it have become. This is the ugly side of the Yellowstone that isn't seen by many. Erosion issues are also a constant threat, especially to those whose homes line the river. Thankfully, there are many people dedicated to the cause of cleaning it up and preserving the banks- though the solutions are not always within reach. This film does a nice job of showing how necessary and worthwhile this work is and will hopefully serve as a bit of an eye opener to those who can make a difference.

Seeing this movie reminded me of a trip to Montana several years ago that was a lot of fun and a memorable time spent with family. Of course, I did some fishing and it was as incredible as the scenery. There seemed to be active trout in every stream, even the tiny ones near busy trails. We made the long hike to Grebe Lake and I was amazed to catch this beautiful little rainbow on the first cast. I was also lucky enough to fish the legendary Firehole with a family friend and it was fantastic. I was new to fly fishing at the time, so I don't think I fully appreciated how good it was. And let's just say I missed a lot of strikes. Now that I've had more time on the water under my belt, I'd love to go back and experience it all over again.

Back to the Mianus

Now that the season is officially open, all options are on the table. I thought about going to the West Branch today, one of my favorite streams, but the memory of that last stonefly hatch at Mianus drew me back there again. I didn't see any rises or signs of a hatch when I got there, so I spent the morning nymphing. The water was much lower this time so I hiked further upstream and found some deeper holes in the pocket water. I caught this nice little brown in a deep run along a boulder- exactly where he was supposed to be. He hit a soft hackle pheasant tail on the swing as it shot out through the deep cut along the large rock. Not a monster fish by any means, but it was satisfying to find a trout where I expected one to be and to catch it on a fly I tied myself.

Around 1:00, just like clockwork, the stoneflies started dropping. The trout came out of the woodwork and reacted just quickly as they had last week. I had spent some time tying this week and I couldn't wait to try out the dries I had tied to mimic the stonefly I brought home. But just like last time, the pack of trout stacked up in front of me passed on every drift. I tried a flying ant pattern again, but this time even that pattern got the cold shoulder too. I sat back and watched the trout feast for a while and looked through my box of dries for the millionth time. Nothing really seemed like it was any closer to the insects that were now crawling all over me. Feeling a little desperate, I settled on a stimulator I had tied with a black body- the general size and shape seemed like it might do the job. Sure enough, the next drift got some attention. Why didn't I try this last time? I hooked a few more small browns and a pretty little brook trout, which I didn't get to take a photo of unfortunately. I also noticed a massive brown that would dart out of a brush pile every once in a while, steal away a stonefly, and slip back into the branches in one motion. I gave it a shot, but wasn't able to coax it out to take my fly. I doubt my 6x tippet would have kept him from retreating back to his lair anyway. I sure would have liked to have found that out the hard way though. I still managed to leave feeling like I had done what I set out to do today. Even though none of my own stonefly dries did the job and a seemingly random fly ended up saving the day.

I chatted briefly with a guy in the parking lot about the fishing on my way out. He had just arrived and asked if they were still hatching, and how I had done. I told him about the browns I had just caught. "What did you get them on? Black stimulator?"

Mianus Stonefly Hatch

This weekend I had the opportunity to witness a full on stonefly hatch at the d̶o̶g̶ ̶p̶a̶r̶k̶ Mianus and it was really something. The hatches were sporadic throughout the afternoon, but the reactions from the trout were swift and furious. A stream that seemed completely barren moments ago would suddenly erupt with dozens of trout rising all around me. They were just going nuts for these stoneflies that seemed to appear out of nowhere, falling from the sky. It was a real rush to finally see rising trout in the flesh after a long winter of only seeing this kind of thing happen in a fly fishing video. But what really amazed me was how selective these fish were. I mean- we're talking fresh off the truck, dumb as rocks stockies and they were inspecting actual insects like wine snobs. They would either pass on some of them or smack at them with gusto after checking them out. I have no idea what went into making that decision. A few weeks ago they were perfectly happy to eat pellets of fish food and now they're entomologists?

Needless to say, things quickly went from "oh my god this is going to be awesome" to "what does it take to get them to take my fly?!". I tried every dry in the box that looked close, even a blue sedge that I was convinced would do the job. Those flattened wings just looked like a perfect match. Nope. I could see two browns holding in the current, and they would look up and closely inspect each increasingly desperate presentation. And then politely decline. Sometimes they wouldn't even bother looking. I went down to 6X tippet. Nope. I really focused on the drift, mending and getting it just right. Nope. I picked up one of the many stoneflies that were crawling into my jacket and gave it a second look, imagining what it would look like from below. Forget about the wings, they want the bodies. The closest thing I had was a flying ant pattern. A long skinny black body and little white wings. A couple casts later there was a feisty rainbow on the end of my line and a smile on my face. There were still some refusals after that, but I had some takes too. It felt great, like I had solved a meaningful puzzle. But I knew I still didn't have the right pattern to fish this hatch. Something to take to the bench.