Weather Eye

The last couple of outings to Blue have been what many consider perfect trout conditions.  There has been fog, heavy mist, drizzling rain, overcast skies, and rain showers. 

Usually I keep a good weather eye and as any sailor worth his salt, I stow what is needed to fit the conditions encountered.  On my last outing however, I found my sea bag quite short of a much needed item.

Last week, I made a short voyage to Blue to spend a couple of hours.  It was foggy and overcast.  Throwing anchor at Ted's Pool, I begin casting upstream and drifting back.  The first twenty minutes or so was uneventful.  Switching to a brown bugger, and later a bubba bugger, the trout finally started coming to hand. 

Upstream a good ways was another seaman and he was sending out an "Ahoy", but he was too far away for me to recognize who he was.  Then, I saw two darling young'uns running around the campsite and realized the seaman with his hand in the air was Dusty Gilles.  Dusty and his family had a wonderful weekend at Blue and the kiddos caught their first trout I believe.

After an hour or so of fishing, six bows had come to hand and it was time for me to shove off.  It was a nice day overall, and a good number of folks on the river.

 

This week I sailed to Blue on a Friday and this is where I missed the weather call.  There was a slight mist when I began my voyage, but by the time I arrived at the river the mist had turned into a steady drizzle.  I had dressed in only a tee shirt with a light pull-over that acted like a sponge.  The drizzle would transform into rain showers and as they came in waves, the wetter I became.

 

However, the fishing was fair.  Early on Friday morning, Van Stacey ran me down and gave me a new pattern he is tying called the Marabear.  He gave me two color schemes - chartreuse and root beer. 

 

On the river I started out with a brown bugger and the bugger would only find one bow.  Then a size 18 Frenchie pink went on and this lad found four bows.  The bite was not hot and heavy and the trout seemed to be feeding in gingerly fashion as revealed by ever so subtle and soft eats.  The chartreuse Marabear was called for sea duty and he would find two bows and loose two more. 

 

 

After an hour and half that more with no end in sight to the rain, I gave in and packed my drenched self to the sailing vessel. 

 

Squeezing Time Out Of March

Here we are in the final month of official trout season at Blue River, and many of us are trying to get every minute of fly fishing in that we can. 

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of meeting Dan Ham and Michael Mercurio on the river around mid-morning.  Chris Adams was to follow later that afternoon. 

The river is so clear it's almost indescribable.  It's not uncommon for the river to grow clear in the winter season, but clear like this I've never seen before.  When fishing water with such clarity, we no longer can take certain things for granted - such as our movement, the shadow of our rod and line, and particularly the size of flies we select.

Starting out above the crossing Dan and Merc worked the east side while I made a quick trip to Scotty's for a cup of coffee.  For about thirty minutes before Merc and Dan arrived I stood on the bank having a nice conversation with Matt Gamble.  As we talked the wind kept channeling down the river and it didn't take long for my hands to start feeling the effects and therefore the need for a cup of coffee.

When I caught up with Dan and Merc they had worked up to First Falls.  Merc rigged heavy for the current at First Falls and started plucking some bows.  Dan was out of sight so I don't know exactly where he was fishing. 

I started drifting the seams and picked up about four bows, but it was slow if anything.  Before I knew it I couldn't see my buddies and figured they had worked up to Area 6.  When I got to a special little pool at 6, there was Dan with a bend in his rod.  The fishing had been so tough that Merc pulled a trick out of the hat and both he and Dan has rigged with a worm - a red San Juan... and it was working.

On the way up to 6 there are two pools of trout that could be called frustration trout.  Some of these fellows are good size and there is a good number of them.  It's the kind of situation that makes a fellow literally manducate - chewing the options that are available. Getting them to eat is another thing.  Merc begin what he is better at than anyone I know - drifting and high-sticking in a fashion that he can only do. 

After watching for a while, Dan went downstream and begin making upstream casts.  I think it was on his second cast he landed a bow.  Further casts upstream resulted in more trout trying to eat the worm and a missed hook-set landed the worm high in a tree. 

Before leaving Area 6, we met a new face to Blue.  Bill Lewis is from Alaska where he guides for Grayling and Kings.  He had been to Blue before, but doesn't know the river that well.  We talked for fifteen minutes or so about the fishing in Alaska and some of the problems those grand fisheries are seeing and then we left Bill to his day. 

Around noon we headed for Ted's Pool to await the arrival of Chris Adams.  Unfortunately, our meeting with Chris would never take place.  Merc was expecting a text from Chris, but his phone ran out of juice.  We know Chris made it because his truck was in the parking lot, but where he went fishing was anyone's guess. 

At Ted's Pool, Dan got out on the ledge and soon landed a bow, but the fishing was really slow.  I tied on my juju fly - the pink Frenchie.  I had tied some Frenchies with ice dubbing, which the original pattern calls for, but to tell you the truth I don't think these will fish as good as the rabbit fur I use - at least they didn't yesterday.  The rabbit fur Frenchie started producing right off the bat and before I was through, seven bows had come in the branding.

 

After Mercurio took a rather nasty and darn cold plunge at Ted's Pool we went to Horseshoe Falls to strip some buggers.  I tied on Chris's Bubba Bugger.  The Bubba Bugger is a wonderful creation and at Horseshoe Falls it was getting a lot of love bumps.  The Bubba Bugger managed a couple of trout and our time on the river was nearing an end.  Lots of midge or emerger activity on the river today and that's a hard situation to figure out. 

Dan wasn't just thinking about fishing yesterday... he was also thinking about the Blue River Fly Classic 2015 and has donated the first raffle item for the next event.  Dan delivered a dandy Cabela's fly rod and reel to go in the raffle bag.  I'll be bidding on that sucker.

As I left the river I put a note underneath Chris's windshield wipers telling him that we were sorry for missing connections once again.  Knowing Chris however, he was off plucking legions of bows from their watery home. 

At the end of the day the official Trout O' Meter showed the slowness of the day... but it was a good day to be on the river with friends.





Mad Dash To The River

Thursday was a horribly slow day at the mercantile store.  I guess many folks are busy trying to get those last few gifts under the Christmas tree.  I found myself pacing back and forth, from one end to the other of the store and there was an uneasiness in me. 

That uneasy feeling stems from me constantly watching the weather, and in that I knew another northern front was headed our way and expected to arrive on Friday.  If a fellow didn't get to the river on this day, then it might be a week or better before conditions improved. 

Shortly after the lunch hour it became more than I could bear and I informed my young boss I would be taking a very long lunch break.  I assured him, however, that my return to the store would be imminent and he should not worry his young self.  My mad dash to the river was on.

Of course I just wanted, and needed, some river time.  But, there was another reason I wanted to hit the Blue and see if the bows were frisky... or not.  On Sunday, I had fair success with the Frenchie fly pattern and all this time the question on my mind asked if this pattern's performance was a fluke or real deal?

Wednesday night I churned out a bit more than a gaggle of Frenchie patterns in sizes 14 and 16 of the colors pink, chartreuse, and olive. This pattern calls for ice dubbing for the thorax, but due to my fly tying material inventory under some kind of austerity currently I used rabbit fur.  On Sunday, the rabbit fur didn't seem to matter at all to the trout - they seem to rather like it. 

I think fly tying is a marriage between the tyer and material.  As a tyer, I should never let myself become divorced from the vital materials needed.  Besides, this philosophy I carry is also a good excuse to go out and buy more stuff. 

I arrived at the river at almost exactly 2 p.m.  It was, for the most part, overcast with the sun making sporadic and feeble attempts to break through the soup in the sky.  The wind was solid and unrelenting straight out of the south.  The temperature was comfortable, even with the wind.  The river today was a pretty as I have ever seen her.  She is still showing that unique emerald hue, clear as a bell in most places, and today the river just looked fresh.  However, I am sad to report the flow and volume is diminishing.  Hopefully this weekend's rains will replenish.

 

As I walked across the top of Horseshoe Falls, there were bugs - lots of bugs.  Bugs in the color dark brown or black and skittering everywhere.  About 100 feet upstream I could see the trout keying on these critters, but that stretch of water is almost impossible for the fly fisher to get to without some kind of sailing vessel. 

 

I walked out on the ledge that Van and I favor whenever we come to this particular place.  It is deep here and I'm not sure exactly how deep, but I do believe it is one of the deepest runs on the Blue.  I would be fishing under an indicator today, but did not set my indicator to the depth of this run.  In other words, I fished it much more shallow than the rule of thumb tells us to.

 

Although I came to test the Frenchie, the chartreuse Copper John from my last outing was still tied on and I sent him sailing to the sea lane.  The first two casts resulted in two eats, along with two misses, which I seem quite prone to doing these days.  However, they say the third time is a charm and on the third cast the first bow of the afternoon would come in for branding.

 

 

Leaving the Copper John in action, two more bows would come my way.  The wind was so prolific today it interfered with the angler getting a natural drift.  The wind was blowing from downstream to upstream and here I was casting upstream for a downstream drift.  The indicator basically was floundered by the wind.  Usually when drifting I let the drift do the work, but today in order to capture a bow a little twitch had to be employed.

 

 

After three bows had been landed, I relieved the Copper John of duty and tied on a size 15 pink Frenchie.  As I put the Frenchie in the drink I wondered if it would indeed produce or not.  My answer came sooner rather than later.  The Frenchie seems to be the real deal.

 

 

 

The pink Frenchie would go on to capture four trout.  With time growing short I decided to try a size 14 chartreuse Frenchie.  This color didn't seem to be as attractive as the pink, but did manage one bow before my time was up. 

 

I wish I could have stayed all afternoon and more so I wish I would have had some company.  From where I was fishing I could see a good 1/8th of a mile upstream and twice that much downstream, and there wasn't a soul on the river.  The Blue looked quite lonely today.

 

In the white wagon at 3:28, I drove off the river having the pleasure of meeting eight citizens of the trout community at Blue.