Early Morning at the West Branch

This is usually the time of year that I start feeling a little panicky. Almost all of the streams are about to close and it won't be long until cold weather sets in and the fishing slows to a crawl. For me anyway. The fall season never seems to work out that well, but I'm hoping to turn that around this year. It may not be fall, officially, but I think it's off to a good start. I had an early morning session on the West Branch on Sunday that may have been the best day of fishing I've had all year. The weather was absolutely perfect- cloudy, low pressure and almost windless. Just plain fishy. I got on the water just as the sun was coming up, my absolute favorite time to fish. And even better, I was the only person there. Without any surface activity in sight, I kicked things off with a double nymph rig and strike indicator. When the indicator took a sudden dive on my third drift I knew it was going to be a good morning. After landing four or five browns, all around 12 inches or so, I moved upstream and set up shop at the coveted tailout of the riffles near the top of the stream. I figured it wouldn't be long before someone else showed up and planted their flag there. The water was surprisingly cold, 58 degrees on the stream bottom. It was also very cloudy, but that didn't seem to slow the fishing at all. They were hungry and not exactly selective. After two trout clamped onto my strike indicator, I switched to the elk hair caddis and a tiny emerger dropper rig that I ended up sticking with for the next several hours. Both flies caught fish, though the size 22 nymph got the most attention. I never did catch one of the monster browns that this stream can produce, but a steady pick of brown trout is not something I get to experience that often and I'm not about to complain about it. Though, at one point I did start to wonder if I was catching some of the same fish repeatedly. I also wondered if I'd stop myself if I actually confirmed that.


I probably could have stayed put and caught fish for a while in that run, but after an hour or so I felt the usual compulsion to move on and see what else was happening. By now, a few people had walked through and I felt like I was getting close to hogging the place. I caught a few more as I fished a few likely looking spots on my way downstream. I saw a brown jump about a foot out of the water a couple times. I didn't catch him, but I barely tried really. By now I was feeling like a spoiled child, lazy and full of cake. I walked down to "frustration pool", which was fully occupied by three anglers. I fished a little further downstream at a spot I hadn't tried before, a nice little stretch between two shallow runs. A familiar looking brown took my dry fly after a couple casts and I decided that was a good way to end the day. And maybe even my season at the West Branch. There's still a week before it closes and I'm already feeling the pull to go back there before it does. But I might not. A day like this doesn't come along too often and it's a pretty good way to close down a stream for the season. 

On a Mission: Part 2

Had the bass been biting more on the previous day, I might have rallied the energy to get back out there for more at the crack of dawn. Instead, I decided to get some needed sleep and catch up on the yard work that was about a week overdue. I figured if I got on a stream by 2:00 I'd still get in a pretty full day if I fished until dark. So, after some work around the house and a quick lunch, I was on my way to the East Branch. I thought of revisiting Stream X, but I also wanted to cover more ground during this 48 hour binge. And this is the time of year when fishing options start to fade… only a few streams can really handle the summer heat. The EB is one of the most consistently cool ones around and I figured I'd have it all to myself on a Monday afternoon.

As I arrived, the only other guy there was just pulling out. Sweet. I rigged up two rods this time- a 5 weight for indicator nymphing and my 3 weight for dry flies. I'm still on the fence about a two rod attack. It's a bit of a limitation toting them both- you can't just wade as you please and absently worrying about leaving one stashed on the bank is a bit of a distraction. However, the ease of switching up tactics makes it well worth it. Many times I've spotted a rising fish and been able to cast to it with the other rod right away. I started this afternoon nymphing and worked down through the familiar runs to a spot that I realize I've only grown to love because it just looks nice. Sure, I've caught fish there. And one of them was huge. But mostly I get skunked there, just admiring the view and the scent of the pines that seem concentrated in that one area. I did connect with a trout there this time, but it got unbuttoned pretty quickly. I decided to move on to another favorite spot that actually holds fish. Or at least ones I'm capable of catching. This spot is a very non-descript section of water, but it consistently holds trout that will almost always take a dry fly year round. And no, that's not it in the above photo. I didn't see anything rising when I got there- but a couple blind casts with a trusty elk hair caddis and dropper rig provoked a take that I missed. I started making longer casts to the opposite bank and immediately connected with a fish that revealed its power right away. I gave it a second little tug to set the hook (a new habit that seems to be paying off) and gingerly fought a thick brown all the way to the net. I scooped him up with a sigh of relief. Admittedly, I haven't caught a ton of trout this year- but being over sixteen inches this was definitely the biggest of the season so far. So where's the photo? Well, there's a story. I wanted to keep it healthy and alive, so I left the fish inside my net in the shallows as I fumbled for my iPhone… turns out this fish could swim quite well in about  two inches of water. Of course. But then I got a second chance… somehow it got hooked on the dropper fly. I got it unhooked right away. And then it slipped from my hands into the water. I was cursing until I looked down and saw it calmly finning at my feet, the way large fish sometimes do after being released. A third chance. I tried to gently corral it into my net with my arm, but it swam away in a flash. Of course, again. All this bumbling just for a damn photo. I had just caught and landed a beautiful brown trout, on a dry fly even, yet it almost seemed like it didn't "count" because I had missed a chance to document it. Remind me again why I fish…

Pictures or not, it was another excellent afternoon and I had to decide whether to stay or go as it started getting dark. Unable to let go of somewhat of a fantasy, I left and returned to the West Branch. I still had high hopes for some evening dry fly fishing. Unfortunately, the conditions had degraded even further in twenty four hours. The water is officially warm. I did catch some fish- sunnies and a tiny smallmouth. Clearly, warm water residents have moved in now and the trout are in search of cooler water. I hope they find it. As it began to get dark, heavy clouds starting rolling in and thunder boomed over the hills. Time to move on.

On a Mission: Part 1

To quote a fellow fly fishing junkie, I needed a bender. I've been lucky to get in a decent amount of fishing this season, but like all debilitating addictions hobbies- it just never seems like enough. With the wife and baby out of town with family last weekend, I had forty eight hours to fish completely irresponsibly. So, for the past two days a bender is exactly what I got. Two posts worth. Here's day one.

First on the list was another boat trip on the reservoir for smallies… this is a habit that seems to be only getting more severe. It's tough to beat the action of hard fighting bass. And casting for distance without a branch in sight is worth the trip alone. Our little streams aren't exactly the place for a double haul. But this time the fishing was not nearly as action packed as it has been earlier in the year. My guess is that bass are seeking cooler deep water. They just weren't around the shorelines in any consistent numbers. Then again, maybe I wasn’t looking in the right place. I'm no bassmaster, that's for sure.Trolling some streamers over drop offs produced a couple decent smallies, but that's not exactly the thrill of casting to feisty bass I had in mind. It was a gorgeous hot sunny day, which made for a nice morning on the water though probably wasn't doing much good for the fishing. Time to move on.

After some lunch and break from the sun, it was time for trout. I won't name the stream I visited with the friend who wisely prefers to keep it quiet, and also for my own selfish motivation to do the same. What a beautiful spot. I had low expectations for early afternoon fishing in July… but right out of the gate I connected with a healthy and large rainbow on a WD40 nymph. And it was a wily one. When I got it within reach it swam a quick circle around my ankles, breaking the tippet and speeding off in one motion. If trout could laugh, this one would be cackling for sure. We fished upstream a bit and the head of a nice little pool produced this pretty little brown. It zipped up and down the pool when it was hooked until I netted it and got a quick photo. We stuck around a bit, but it was getting increasingly hot and that cooler of beer and water in the truck was calling our names.

Next stop: the more well known and heavily fished West Branch. I hadn't been back there since that last epic sulphur hatch I fished, and I'd been thinking about it ever since. Fishing there in the evening is one of my favorite places to be. This being the weekend, I expected the pull-off to be full, but surprisingly there was only one other vehicle parked there. It was late afternoon by then, and I was wondering if there would be anything hatching. The sulphurs may be gone with the crowds, but now is the time for caddis to take over and they were definitely around. Not in any great numbers, but enough to keep fish rising steadily for the evening. I rigged up an elk hair caddis and an emerger dropper and worked my way through the slow water. I've been concerned about the water temperatures here. I've heard conflicting stories about whether recent work on the dam had fixed the issues with the water flows. Unfortunately, it seems that whatever was done wasn't enough. The water was right around seventy degrees, which is definitely on the warm side for trout. It will only get warmer as the summer goes on and this stream will soon be out of commission for yet another year. What a shame. The action wasn't as intense as my last visit, but every so often a brown would grab the emerger with a splashy take. The dry fly was mostly ignored, with maybe a couple exceptions. Given that I practically yanked the fly out of the mouths of the takers, it was hard to tell which of the flies they were going for. I'm still working on taking that crucial little pause before setting a dry fly. The often recommended time it takes to say "God save the Queen" seems unbearably long to wait for an impatient guy like me. Couldn't be any worse than a missed hook set that ends up in the trees though, that's for sure. As it got dark it seemed to slow down a little more. The rises were scarce and nymphing wasn't feeling very appealing. Time to call it a day. At this point I was almost exhausted from a full day of fishing streamers, poppers, nymphs, and dries all over the place. I needed some rest. I still had twenty four hours to fish.

Home At Last

Today was the first time in more than a month that I've been able to fish the croton watershed again. It's been a real pleasure to experience so much new water this season, but I've been really missing the home streams I fish the most. I hit the East Branch first thing this morning and had it all to myself. Rare for a weekend. I was wondering why this was until I realized just how bad the mosquitoes are right now. The deet mostly kept them at bay, but I can see why most would pass on all the face biting. Otherwise, the water was cold and the fishing was better than it has been on my last few visits. It felt good to be back. I caught a chunky little rainbow on a hare's ear in the riffles that actually took some drag and a few minutes to land. I also briefly hooked a smallie that jumped about four feet the second I set the hook. I didn't mind so much when it spit out the nymph on the way down, it was an impressive move. There were the usual stockie browns too, but none were above average in any way. And a couple perch- funny how the summer brings out so much variety. 

I packed up and headed over to the West Branch, mostly just to see how it's faring in the heat. Not so well, unfortunately. I didn't have a thermometer to get a reading, but  the water felt way too warm to fish safely. Nobody was fishing there, fortunately for the trout, but that only made it harder to walk away without getting my line wet. I really hope whatever work is being done wraps up soon and this great stream can be restored to actual tail water again and not a place to avoid. 

Next stop: the Amawalk. I drove up near the dam, looking for low temperatures. What a difference. Even the air felt cooler and there was a layer of mist to complete that mountain stream vibe. And no mosquitoes, oddly enough. I went back to that tiny plunge pool where I caught a nice brown on my last visit. I crept up,  flicked a double nymph rig into the foam and it was immediately tugged down. I felt the weight of a nice fish, but was more amused than disappointed to quickly see that a sunfish and a crappie had each taken a nymph. Now that was unexpected. I didn't even know the Amawalk held crappie. Every cast after that one yielded another small panfish. I doubt that big brown would allow so much company in such tight quarters. I figured it had moved on so I did the same. I walked quite a ways downstream and caught a couple small browns before doubling back. It felt great to visit my favorite stream again, but it had been a long day. With a lot of variety. 

A Full Day: The Amawalk and West Branch

 I spent a good part of the day at the Amawalk yesterday, it was a nice overcast kind of day to fish and walk the stream. My plan was to work my way down from the bridge to Muscoot at the end of the stream, but by midday it was getting hot and I was barely halfway there so I turned around. I was pretty far off the beaten path by then and had found some nice little spots to float a nymph through. The Amawalk really has a way of making you feel like you're the first person to ever fish there. I got hung up on something at one point and reached down to pull up a large stick with my nymph embedded in the soggy wood. There were green caddis larvae crawling all over it. I recovered my nymph and found two other flies stuck to it as well. They weren't even rusty- so much for being the first person to fish this little run. Nevertheless, I was grateful for the hint and tied on a size 20 caddis nymph which picked up a few small trout on my way back upstream. They were so tiny I thought they were brookies at first, but they were brown trout parr. Beautiful little wild fish. I released them as gently as I could.




After a quick lunch, I headed over to the West Branch for another late afternoon session. The fishing was just as great as it was the day before. I brought the 3 weight I had used at the Amawalk and it made catching these smallish browns even more fun. Nothing larger than 12 inches or so, but I'm not complaining. The dry dropper was the ticket again- a size 16 elk hair caddis and a 20 pheasant tail dropper provided almost constant action. Though there were tons of rising fish, almost all of the takers went for the nymph. I did catch a couple on the dry, but so rarely it was startling when it happened. Evidently, emergers were on the menu. Around dusk there were some sulphurs here and there, but not the big hatch I was waiting for. Won't be long now though.

Sulphurs Are Here

I put in another afternoon at West Branch and this time everything just clicked. I must have landed over 20 fish, maybe more. I didn't bother taking pictures, they were standard stockies, but I did catch a larger one that was around 15 or 16 inches that jumped out of the net before I could get a photo. Almost all of them took a size 20 pheasant tail- which has become my go to nymph this season. One fish I caught was spitting up some type of larvae that was the exact size and color of my nymph. I took that as confirmation that I was onto something.

But, the best part was that when the sun was setting there was an amazing Caddis and Sulphur hatch. Mostly caddis, I think. And the trout reacted accordingly. Rising fish everywhere. I rigged up a dry dropper rig (light Cahill and pheasant tail dropper) and the action was just nonstop. After it got dark the big guys started to show up. I saw a good 20" brown just smashing the surface repeatedly and rolling around. As I tried to get in position to cast to it I got hopelessly tangled somehow and it was just too dark to fix that kind of mess. When I went for my headlamp and found it hooked solidly to a stray fly in my bag I knew it was time to call it a night. Still, a great day on the water. I think I know where I'm going tomorrow night... And this time I'll have my gear prepared for dark.

Branches

I couldn't decide where to fish today, so I went to both the East and West Branch for a full eight hours on the water. The East Branch was pretty uneventful- though I did lose what I think was a monster brown. When I set the hook I thought I had snagged a rock- but then the rock decided to make an unexpected break for the downed tree branches across the stream. My tippet snapped immediately. I don't think I would have been able to land whatever this was on 6x even if I'd been prepared for that run. I'd sure like to try again though.



That seemed to be the theme of the day- I missed a lot of fish. I must have hooked at least ten that got off within a minute or so. Maybe my hook sets need a little more conviction. I did land a few too, including this one at the West Branch which fought like a much bigger fish. I was very relieved to bring this one to hand after a good five minute battle.

Also saw a lot of risers today- there was a bit of a Caddis hatch for a while and the trout were paying attention. It felt great to ditch the nymph rig for a while and do some actual casting. In keeping with the theme of the day, I didn't land any on dries- but I had some takes and even managed to hook a few. All in all, a long day, but the fish I was able to get in the net made it all worthwhile.

Back To The West Branch

I had a little free time this afternoon so I took the opportunity to visit the West Branch and check up on those stockies. I tried all my favorite spots, but wasn't having any success. Saw lots of bug life, midges everywhere and even a few early sulphurs. Unfortunately, the trout seemed uninterested in eating anything- real or not. And no rises anywhere, which was surprising. I thought about packing it in. Then the sun started going down and it was a totally different situation...

The spot I was fishing started producing trout after trout. The first one was a nice brown- a good 14 inches and feisty for his size. I hooked a few more of these new residents and then I set the hook on what I immediately knew was a nice fish. This guy ran up and down four times and gave my new reel the test I've been waiting for. I finally got him to net and breathed a sigh of relief. He was a beautiful orange yellow, with a pronounced kype. I managed to get a couple photos in the low light and sent him back to the stream that has been his home for a while now. And to think I almost left.

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.

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.