Fly Fishing Thursday On Blue River

Beating Mother Nature... almost.

A Thursday afternoon is as fine a time as any to spend a wee bit of time fly fishing on the Blue River.  Yesterday everything seem to lay out fine for me.  My young boss at the mercantile store needed a ride to our Tishomingo mercantile and in his request I found some leverage

The deal I made with young boss was he would indeed be transported by yours truly, if... I could run over to the river for an hour or so.  Handshake deal, we were good to go. 

Stopping by the bunkhouse I gathered the gear and soon we were on the road.  On the drive down I felt like I had just pulled a coup... a great triumph, if you will, because here I was getting to fish before the Arctic blast of air hit later in the day.

After dropping the boss off I headed straight for the river only stopping at Scotty's for a bit so I could fetch the "less litter on Blue" boxes Chris Adams had built.

At the river it was hard to keep from noticing how emerald the water looked on this day.  There was an overcast sky with a southerly wind, and the color of the river cause me to have concerns about the effectiveness of the bugger brown.  But, to the bugger brown I stayed true and paired him with an olive WD 40.

The first two trout would escape before reaching my hand, but the third came in for the touch courtesy of the WD 40. The next cast would result in both the bugger brown and his mate to be lost and on their way to the locker deep below. 

Tying another bugger brown on, I once again paired him with a WD 40.  However this time the 40 was in the color red.  The next ten casts resulted in nothing so I decide to move on upstream.  Upstream started out the same way... little action and some very subtle takes.  Finally, the bugger brown brought in a trout.

Then, the action slowed again and I begin to wonder if I was suffering from pattern fatigue especially with the emerald colored river in front of me.  Off came the bugger brown and on went the bugger olive.

First cast with the olive resulted in a fish and two more would also come to hand.  Olive color, in emerald water, under an overcast sky. 

So, here I was on a Thursday afternoon standing in the river feeling pretty good about beating the weather.  Mother Nature must have read my mind or saw that smirk on my face because it was about then the rain showers came my way. 

The showers weren't constant and certainly not down-pouring, but they came in waves - one after another.  Of course the rain gear was back at the bunkhouse and all I had on was a light sweat shirt.  The bait fisherman that had been on the bank near where I was fishing called it a day in light of the recurring rain showers, and the fellow told me he hadn't caught a single trout anyway.

After the fourth or fifth wave of rain shower I also decided to call it a day, so I gathered my effects. waded out of the river, and shoved off for the home harbor.  The fishing today certainly wasn't hot and heavy and I would leave with only five trout to my credit.  But, they all were wonderful in their own way.

One thing about that old cowboy hat I wear... it keeps a lot of rain off of my skinny frame.  And, most certainly a little rain will never hurt this hat - it could use a good cleaning for sure.

Very few souls on the river today and in a way that is sad.  Why so many are not coming this year to take in the love this river gives freely is puzzling to me.  On the other hand with so few souls fishing we don't have to worry about claim jumpers.

Gold Mining And Claim Jumpers

There are times on Blue River we will find a certain pool, run, or stretch of water that yields bow and bow.  It is like a gold mine and we suddenly go from fly angler to gold miner in the eyes of many others.  To them, it appears that we have indeed struck the mother lode of trout.

Not always, but to a fair degree just the same, when we are prospecting and hit it big like just described... we will get company.  Now, there's nothing wrong with company calling if they bring along a reasonable knowledge of etiquette.  However, far too often etiquette is no where to be found. Anglers will simply wade in on you, crowd you out, throw across your line and generally be rude about it all.  I call them claim jumpers.

 

There is plenty of room on Blue River.  Let us all be respectful of one another.



 







In Getting Spanked

I went fly fishing with Van today.  I got my butt spanked my Van today.  Actually, I got my butt kicked my van today. 

We had a 75 fish day.  Van caught 50 of the trout today.  So, do the math and you'll know how badly Van kicked my arse. 

Now, you might ask why anyone would beat up on an old man like Van did today?  I don't know.  It's a damn shame though and should be against the law. 

The truth is that Van had the goods today and he brought em.  The amazing thing about this guy is that he's been fly fishing hardly anytime at all, but he has taken to it like a duck to water. 

Of course some credit should be give to the guy who introduced him to fly fishing and perhaps this is some small part of his success.  And that guy is me!  See how he repays me for my kindness. 

The usual hot spot today wasn't so hot.  Van did pick up some and I only picked up a few.  So Van went downstream and this is where he found his hot spot for the day. 

For Van the morning action came courtesy of the brown bugger.  Later around noon, his action got hot again using the Hare's Ear. 

 

I wouldn't find my sweet spot until close to noon.  I decided to fish the oxygenated water below a falls and the trout here were loving the Hare's Ear and Pheasant Tail.  When they grew pattern weary of these two flies, I simply tied on a size 16 dark olive baby bugger and the action was back on.

 

All in all it was a fine outing.  I hate to admit it, but I tired out early.  Seems like I do that a lot anymore. 

 

Think I'll get on a Geritol regimen and get back in the game. 

Chapter 58 Day 47 - Trout Season

The Duke Of Marabou Brown

This morning, still not knowing exactly how clear some parts of the river was, I sit down at the tying vise and churned out a couple of brown buggers.  I like brown in off-colored water. 

Everything stowed in the schooner I shove off at around 9:30 this morning and take my time in getting to the river.  Back roads are in order today and even a couple of stops to take some pictures including one of a coyote. 

The coyote seems like a lonely creature.  As to why, I do not know.  I do know farmers and ranchers care not for the coyote.  I like them though - figure they're just struggling through life like so much of our wildlife does. 

Upon arriving at the river, it's easy to see the river is clearing quickly, but, this is mainly in the shallow runs.  Today I wanted to fish the deeper pools and in the wide, deeper stretches there was still some problems with clarity. 

Seeing the foggy conditions of Ted's Pool, the brown bugger goes on the tippet and with a cast he sails through the air.  Almost as soon as he lands a bow takes a fancy to the bug and the first trout comes to hand. 

Within ten minutes I know it's going to be a good day on the water. 

Within thirty minutes, I realize it may be one of those rare days - the kind of day that doesn't come around as often as it once did for this fly fisher.  The kind of day you'll end with triple digits, flirting with fifty fish or so. 

The bows couldn't seem to get enough of the brown bug.  Many of the strikes were so subtle these old reflexes didn't work well and half as many fish were missed as were caught. 

The bugger kept taking the hits and soon one bow delivered a debilitating blow as the bugger came unravelled. 

The bugger is retired from the field of battle and another brown bugger, similar in size, is selected.  The second bugger is different with it's dubbed marabou body and coined as the Duke of Marabou Brown.  A fitting name it would seem because this bugger, the second one, is even more favorable to the trout.

The onslaught continues.  A few short minutes later, the cup of coffee consumed on the trail down seems to hit bottom and it's time to head for the bank and take care of that business.  While there, I decide to go on downstream instead of just wearing-out this particular fishing hole. 

Next stop is Glory Hole and here I decide to tie on a red San Juan to the butt of the Duke of Marabou Brown.  The worm is to see if these trout are just really active or they simply like the color brown in off-colored water.  The duo are sent sailing, but, it isn't long until the worm is retired, receiving no action at all.  The worm cannot compete with the popularity of the brown bugger. 

The first three casts at Glory Hole are straight upstream at a distance of twenty-five feet.  Only one tiny strike is the result.  Then, I remind myself to always fish the water directly in front or to the sides and with an eight foot cast to my right, the bugger finds an additional plethora of trout.

Again, not wanting to wear the fishing hole out, I move once more and it's downstream to Seventeen.  Poor little Seventeen is still not fishing well and hasn't been for several years now.  What the problem is, I have no idea.  But, the trout seem to have forsaken this sweet little shallow. 

Moving upstream to the boulder above Seventeen, more trout are found.  Off the boulder is a felled seaside alder.  The branches of this tree penetrate the soup and two trout are taken off of that tree.  Pushing my luck I keep casting a few feet to the left of the down tree and I gamble one time to many.  One of the submerged limbs grabs the Duke of Marabou Brown and he gives his life at sea.

Going to the fly box, I find a brown bugger pattern Chuck Kaminski gave to me years ago.  Chuck's pattern is the same color brown I'd been using, but, he added a little flash in the tail.  This bugger goes on and the trout begin their jousting once again. 

It's now almost 1 o'clock and I've been in the river for about three hours.  The back is nagging and it's time for me to go. 

I did not have a fifty fish day in the time I was there, but, I was just a few fish short of forty.  That's a good morning for this fly fisher. 

Stopping at Scotty's, a Gloria burger and Coors Light to go is ordered. 

The weather was absolutely beautiful today... as was the fishing.  

Chapter 58 Day 9 - Trout Season

Brown Buggers

Without a doubt, olive or olive and grizzly are the favored color of bugger selection on Blue river.  Coming in second place, I would say that black is the next color of choice when fishing a bugger.  However, there are times that an olive or olive and grizzly or black bugger couldn't bribe a trout to get on the hook. 

I have found, over a good time, that when the trout are refusing the favored colors it is time to try brown.  Now, as to why brown sometimes works when other more used colors won't, I do not have a clue.  However, with that being said, I am convinced it is usually water color or clarity.  In certain water conditions... brown just works. 

With this being another non-fishing day, I tied up a couple of brown buggers tonight and am hopeful to try them soon.  I like to tie skinny bodied (dubbed body) buggers.  I tie the tails different ways including sparse, full, short, and sometimes long (a perfect invitation to tormenting myself with short strikes).  I never know which variation is going to work the best and that is part of the chase... keep changing brown bugger patterns with different tails and see what happens.

I was within six miles of the river today, but, still couldn't manage a way to steal borrow the time to get there.

Maybe soon.