Urban Prospecting

Still determined to put a hook in some hoover lips my buddy Tom and I spent a day exploring some water that's a bit more metropolitan than usual. As I've taken to doing reconnaissance drives and walks on my lunch breaks so we first stopped at a spot known to hold fish.

Finding some big targets in high sun was a prodigious sight:

Since I like to keep it truthful, I'll admit that I started out like a spoiled child in a candy store-- flipping wild casts all about, cursing the knots, cursing the knee-deep sludge, and cursing the trees after I put my flies into their leaves instead of in front of the fish cruising a rod's length away.  It was awesome.  I finally started to focus and made some decent presentations.

These fish turned out to be unbelievably responsive-- even the cruisers in the deep water were responsive to my flies.  I was so surprised when the first fish took my flies without hesitation that I set the hook with a delicacy better utilized with tiny flies on a tailwater.  It took me well into the backing before coming undone.  A few more missed fish later I struck gold.

Of course it was one of the smaller fish of the bunch but after the last couple of weekends it felt like a trophy.  It wasn't but an hour after this fish that the sky started to turn gray and the water-- once full of piscine shadows-- became a ghost town.  I do believe I've discovered that carp can be very sensitive to changes in barometric pressure.  Damnit.

As for Tom, by sheer dumb luck, he didn't get half as many shots at fish as I did -- and put another goose egg on the proverbial board.

For the rest of the day we explored some seriously ghetto water, looking for carp and working any fishing bit of structure with bass flies.  Nothin.  But nothin is a little more palatable when you've driven 20 miles instead of the 240 round trip miles to Maupin.

I think it's safe to say I'll be back.

A Few to Note

Well It's darn hard not to post a lot of other peoples' content with so much fly fishing media being broadcast right now.  I'm still trying not to overdo it but here's a few recent highlights that are worth 5 minutes of procrastinating some responsibilities.

First there's a whole bunch of sweet video (here) coming out of the Simms shootout competition this year.  This one from Montana wild takes the cake in my opinion.  Mostly because, instead of trying to find some sort of deep meaning in the act of fishing, you get to see some talented fisherman have a ridiculous amount of fun.  Don't miss 5:20:

Simms Shoot Out 2013 - "BENT" from Montana Wild on Vimeo.

Secondly I'm always happy when Jazz & Fly Fishing put out a video. It's nearly unfair how accomplished they are at both fishing and music.  Take, for example, this new video with some really great guitar work done by Jazz & Fly Fishing themselves:

Frog of Fire from Jazz & Fly Fishing on Vimeo.

Tough Going in the Gorge.

It's funny, I distinctly remember getting completely burnt out on carp last summer and longing for colder trout & steelhead waters.  Something of a plan B (or C, or D) that I had to resort to in order to keep my line in the water when my wife was pregnant

Somehow that annoying seed-- planted shallow like a sticker in a sock-- has grown deep roots and this year I found myself tying carp flies in the middle of winter steelhead season, perusing google maps for carpy-looking water, and dreaming of that big first run of a good carp that takes the best of us into our backing.  And these last few weekends has found my friend Tom and I using those flies in earnest attempts to bag a carp, probably on days best spent elsewhere.

Numerous trips have ended frustratingly as low pressure fronts roll in, kill the sunshine, and whip the waters to a muddy froth.  We've experienced carp flats inexplicably turning into ghost towns in a matter of twenty minutes this year as well as carp that taunt us by stopping just to look but never committing.  And yet we keep trying, sometimes hopelessly throwing bass flies into the wind just as an excuse to cast.

After a couple of bad trips we worked in a contingency plan to hit the Deschutes but, in retrospect, it was a lot of driving for some less than spectacular fishing.  Each time Tom and I start out I'm convinced I can see a spectacular day of fishing on the horizon but we just haven't made it that far yet.

Luckily the Deschutes rarely denies one of at least a few fishy creatures; a sometimes needed reminder of what it feels like to have a live creature bring our fly rods to life, bending it to do what it was made to do.

Spawned out ol' redside that took a caddis pupa-- not exactly the spry fish I was hoping for

After more little stockers than I could keep track of, a few spawned out redsides, a pikeminnow, and one lone healthy redside I look forward to the upcoming salmonfly and golden stonefly hatches coming up.

And carp.  There are carp in my future.

H&H - Who they are.

Check H&H outfitters' recent video-- in a realm where we're often choosing between stuffy legacy shops (yes, there are many exceptions) and impersonal big box stores, I think these guys are a great third option if you're looking for some sweet fly fishing apparel:

H&H Outfitters. Who we are and what we are all about. from Diy FlyKit on Vimeo

Not only are they touting a message that resonates with me but H&H outfitters sent me free stuff.  Pure awesomeness-- not many people send me free stuff.

They've definitely earned a spot on my camper shell glass:

 Get out there.  The water's fine.

Pyramid Lake, Spring 2013

Well this years annual trip to Pyramid lake lived up to my hopes and expectations.  As always, it was a battle to get everything wrapped up at work (amidst overtime and the fact that I had given my two weeks notice), get organized, packed, check the list twice and get ourselves to the airport.  Having a 6 month old kid only compounds the problem with the need to pack bottles, diapers, car-seat, stroller etc etc.  But the largest check-on bag on this trip was mine-- fishing gear.

The bulk of waders and boots aside, I brought backup rods & reels and backup plans to fish just about anywhere in the region if I needed to.  Carp flies, river flies, still-water flies, pyramid lake flies, 5wt, 8wt, sinktip, floating, and 12-3.5lb tippet... to name a few.  Sounds like I'm prepared?  Well I also brought my travel kit of fly tying equipment since I didn't tie a single fly prior to this trip.  I.e. not prepared at all.

Thus, after dumping our mountain of luggage at my in-laws house, I cracked open a few packs of hooks and got to work.  I think it was around 2:30am when the vise a bit too blurry for any good to come of it, and I hit the hay hard only to wake  up a few hours later to double check the double checked and drive out to the lake.  It sometimes amazes me how many of my fishing trips go like this.

Needless to say the big sky, blue water, and brisk wind of Pyramid lake gave me reason to rejoice, pause, and breathe a little.

Then, armed with a handful of hackneyed experiments and a dozen or so standards, we began to ply the waters.  I was dedicated to make it happen by way of the stripped fly.  I don't mind staring at a bobber for hours on end but it feels good to really cast and it feels especially good to strip set hard into the toothy jaw of a big cutthroat on a tensioned line

But, it rarely happens the way you think it will.  I put my dad on bobber duty while I stripped a variety of beetles and buggers but nothing happened until my dad's friend Ken showed up.  It was his first time fly fishing Pyramid lake and he shows up with box half-full of Barr's wired nymphs and proceeded to catch the first fish (and the most).  It wasn't long before I had an indicator on.

I did manage a fish on an olive beetle but red copper johns and even rubberleg jumbo johns (in colors I rarely fish) were the big winners.  Also, the fish wanted movement.  Last year they wanted a near stagnant presentation (I would oddly catch more fish when the wind died last year) but this year Ken figured out that stripping and twitching at a pretty regular cadence caused the fish to commit.  It was a bit like Doug Oullette's "floater-no-cator" method-- but with the indicator left on.    We also used open loop knots to tie the flies on for extra movement.

Over the course of two days we all caught fish with this method and I was really impressed with Ken's angling abilities and his perseverance when the fishing was slow.  He's one of those guys that's clearly hooked by this sport and I have a feeling we'll fish together again!  While the fishing was never "hot," there were enough visible fish, follows, or hookups to keep our attention so that we didn't stray far from the south side of the lake.  "Don't leave fish to find fish" is something of an adage at this lake.

I'm usually fairly obsessive about keeping my line it the water (that's why my lunch is usually in my backpack with me on the ater) but photography has it's hooks into me now too and I spent a lot of time shooting the scenery and scrambling to set my rod down every time someone hooked a fish.  Frankly this isn't very effective at pyramid since you want your flies in the water when the fish are there-- often indicated by your neighbor's bent fly rod.  In the end I came away with some photos I'm proud of (many of which will be published elsewhere--stay tuned) but next time I might ease up and fish a bit more.

Ken with a nice colored up lahontan

Even the old man got into some fish. Let's just say he's been in a bit of a slump at this lake.  The kind of slump that has your fishing buddies pitching in to make sure the flies, tippet, leader lengths, and even the knots are the same as what's working for them.  Sometimes it's nuance and sometimes it's just bad luck but after three full day's of le skunk (I'm counting last year) my pops finally landed some fish.  In fact he caught more than I did on day two of this trip!  His perseverance is that of a seasoned steelheader (well, almost).

Lastly my brother in law came out and showed us the effectiveness of lures and caught a nice fish on a big flat fish (I mean huge flatfish!).  It's amazing what these fish will eat-- nice fish Jesse!

At the conclusion of the annual pyramid lake trip I caught a pretty great sunset and left with that if-I-only-had-another-day feeling and can't wait to make it happen again next year.  Hopefully involving less gear.  And more sleep.

Pyramid Lake. Soon.

Tomorrow I will be standing on the sandy shores of Pyramid lake, hoping to tap into a faint remnant of the lake's former glory and lay my hands on some pilot peak strain goodness.  I've seen more twenty pounders caught this year (via the interwebs) than in years past and it's kept the stoke, well, stoked.  Right now I'm doing my best to work but all that's running through my head is images of big skies and salt-crusted shoreline from last years spring trip:
 

 

That giant, treeless, windy-ass, pool of salt brine will be the most soothing of balms for this burnt out cubicle rat.  At least that's how I see it in the idealism of my mind's eye.  But the last two trips have been good to me out there, plus I can't wait to reunite with my family and have my growing daughter get some time with her grandparents.

...and a fish or two wouldn't hurt either.

last years day-saver

H&H Outfitters.

I recently received an e-mail from H&H outfitters asking me to watch a video and check out their website.  Normally I dismiss such e-mails (anyone notice the complete lack of advertising on this blog?) but their "what we're all about" section struck a cord with me.  It's such a common story.  And it still happens to me all the time.  Ridiculous. 

End rant.  Check out their video--and they have some sweet threads too:

Of particular note is this b.a. shirt which I want very much:

I thought the wader bulge was a nice touch.

Cold, Windy, Deschutes.

This last weekend the coastal rivers looked drastically low-- low enough that even digging deep into my psyche I couldn't find that half-insane glimmer of hope that I normally have regarding winter steelhead.  Instead I decided to visit an old friend, the Deschutes.  Where I was almost certain I could catch something. 

Not only that, but I was perfectly ok with getting a late start allowing for some late night cider drankin' as well as some morning pancakes n' bacon for my sleep-deprived wife and chubby-faced-growing-like-mad little daughter.  Trout rejoice, she's got her hooks into me deep, that girl, and I often find myself lingering at the door trying to get one more smile out of her before I leave.

Eventually I did make it out there only to find the fishing slow with howling winds, rain, hail, and not much of  a hatch to speak of.  I caught a handful of fish and a single white fish on prince nymphs and twenty-incher nymphs (once again proving the fishiness of natural peacock herl) and I explored quite a bit-- gritting my teeth and forcing myself to pass up some seriously fishy looking water.  I have no doubt that a guy could still catch a bwo hatch out there under the right conditions and I saw lots of march brown, green drake, and clinger type mayfly nymphs all poised to hatch in the coming month or so.

I suppose one might find that kind of drive for a handful of small trout to be of debatable worth.  But, this day it felt right, and I left satiated that I still knew, at least marginally, how to hook and land a trout.

View on the drive out.

'til next time.

Urban Angling

I've been telling folks for years that I was going to give some local water a try on my lunch break.  Today I finally threw a rod, reel, and a box of flies in a backpack and when 11:59 rolled around a buddy and I scrambled our way down the riprap to throw a few casts (I fell twice, per usual). My hopes of actually catching a fish was really really low.  All I was going on was secondhand hearsay and old internet forum posts.  I knew someone a long time ago who said...

Age-old truth: You don't know until you try: 

It was only one fish, but it was the fish-- the first in a long time, the one I didn't think was possible.  All it took was some sinking line, a lead-eyed woolly bugger in black (of course), and finding some softer water on the inside of a seam.  I certainly thought about  keeping this catch secret and/or censoring my pictures to preserve this newly found resource.  But I quickly came to the realization that if twenty guys are in that spot tomorrow-- I really won't care.

It was only one fish but it felt damn good.  Exhibit A: shit-eating grin.

Wear proper eye protection when fly casting kids.  'til next time.

Two Long Months.

I'm astounded as I look at the calendar and realize it's been almost two months since I've made a post here.  Not only was this hiatus unintentional, but for me it's quite undesirable.  The short version of this story is that I'm a full time consulting engineer with a 5 month old daughter and a wife nearing the completion of her graduate degree.

To be more specific, most of my "free" time is spent looking after this one:

So it's been good-- necessary even.  The time I've spent with this little girl is time I will treasure until my synapses fail and my heart stops beating.  And while I have had a few tying sessions and have taken the camera for a few practice runs, you're more likely to find me sitting on the couch staring  aimlessly at some re-run after finally getting this ball of drooling, shitting, yelling, laughing, crying cuteness to sleep.

But I want the cake and I want to eat it too.  Status quo be damned--I will figure this out!!!  Until then I can only give you some images taken on the first full day of fishing I've had since new years (F.M.L.) looking for winter steel:

The flows were right, the water was perfect for swinging, and after an hour of botching casts I finally felt the tug of a winter steelhead on the a spey rod-- only to reel in and find my hook had been fouled the entire time.  The tougher the lesson, the more likely I am to git learnt.

The rest of the day was spent searching the sweet spots with an indicator rig, getting hailed on, rained on, and sliding my cubicle-softened arse down some seriously awesome mossy terrain--and not connecting with a single fish.  If they were easier to catch... I wouldn't be sad... but that's not how the saying goes is it?  I believe the hardest part of winter steelheading is the mental piece requiring one to dream, hope, and be ready for a fish on every cast while at the same time being completely content with getting skunked.

Let's just say I'm not there yet.

Because, I. just. want. to. catch. a. fish.  I'm in that place where I find myself dreaming of  catching two dozen bluegill on some pond or dapping ambiguous attractors to more care-less small creek trout than I can count-- just to remember what it feels like.  Alas that's not how steelhead are won over-- and definitely not a good way to become proficient with a spey rod. 

In other words:  See you again soon, beautiful, green, seemingly-fishless, north-coast stream.

North Coast Quest - Numero Uno.

It has begun.  The hunt for winter steelhead.  After last years success I was hungry to get back out there and ply those emerald green north Oregon coast waters with trapped air tech.  You might hate it, but I eat it up-- staring at that gaudy bauble hoping for that big obvious take-down, so unlike that of their landlocked brethren.

This years first trip (pictured here) proved unsuccessful, but had that fishy "feeling" nearly day.  Every piece of perfectly green water we eyed gave us renewed hope in the possibility of a fish and we worked the pockets, seams, and tailouts diligently.  As we worked up the canyon the water became clearer and clearer and we switched to sight fishing mode, climbing rocks, trees, and gravelly banks to get a better angle.  Then, after not spotting any fish, we moved back down to areas with hatchery stock and worked the water again-- nothing. Such is steelheading.

Taking the circuitous route home was a good excuse to eyeball a new stream, provided elk, sightings and a great view on the way out.  A little solace to our fish-less day.