Of Seasons and Psychology

Our most recent poll asked you which season was your favorite for fishing. Surprisingly, the majority of voters picked fall. Now I'll admit, fall is my personal favorite but every time I see this discussion come up, most people would vote for spring with its consistent hatches and the first reliable action after the cold winter months.

When I first picked the topic for this poll, I fully expected to see spring come through as the winner. Past experience on the water tells me that more people are fishing in the spring than in the fall. After a lot of thought, I decided the issue might revolve around the complexities of the human mind. I know I have at least a marginal tendency towards the following: the best season for fishing is whichever one is right around the corner.

Thus it makes sense that everyone is excited about fishing in the fall. I distinctly remember this subject appearing on several forums such as the LRO Board last spring. More properly, I should say early last spring when the first hatches were just about to take off. Everyone had been stuck inside all winter (at least the lazy folk...) and most people were sure that spring was the best time to fish. Now that we have a secondary "peak" in productive fishing coming up, people are turning their thoughts and minds towards the opportunities of fall such as large aggressive brown trout. Indeed, some of my best browns caught in the Smokies were taken in the September-November time frame.

Of course, it is also entirely possible that the majority of people that took the time to vote really do think fall is the best time of year for fishing. Regardless, it appears that a lot of fisherman are looking forward to the fall season.

For those interested in the final statistics, the poll was broken down by the following:

Spring - 27%

Summer - 6%

Fall - 66%

Winter - No one....

I guess I know when I'll be fishing to avoid the crowds...

Another East Tennessee Blog

Here is another great blog about fly fishing in East Tennessee. It is called The Trout Addiction and comes from Brett Romer in Maryville, just outside the GSMNP. Of course, we are jealous because his location is much more central to great fishing than ours, but hopefully we'll pick up some hot tips from his posts on some of the finest that East Tennessee has to offer.

Crazy Timing: YNP Day 3

Crazy timing, a developing hatred of whitefish, and unreal brookie fishing all made up day three of our Yellowstone adventure. The previous day we decided that a trip over to West Yellowstone and Blue Ribbon Flies was in order. In the process, we hoped to check out the Gallatin River.

We got a reasonably early start and headed west without too many delays. Anyone that has been to Yellowstone knows that what looks to be an hour or two long drive can easily be twice that with all the traffic jams where the tourists gawk at a buffalo that decided to park on a nice piece of pasture immediately adjacent to the highway.

Thankfully, we didn't run into that situation much on our way and were soon in West Yellowstone at Blue Ribbon Flies. We went into the shop and were immediately in heaven. This shop has the best large selection of traditional tying materials I've probably ever seen. The selection of hair and feathers was astounding not to mention their patented Zelon. After browsing for altogether too long, I finally decided it was time to get out before I saw all my money depart my wallet. I made my way up to the counter to pay where a gentleman with a slight southern accent was conversing with the guy at the register.

Standing there listening and waiting my turn, I started to realize that this guy looked familiar and then he mentioned something about "back home in Tennessee." In amazement I asked, "Are you Hugh Hartsell?" We had known that Mr. Hartsell would be out there but hadn't expected to see this excellent guide from Tennessee. After all, it is a huge area out there and the chances of running into him were extremely small. Incredibly, he answered in the affirmative so we had the pleasure of spending several minutes chatting with him about the fishing he had been doing in the area. He informed us that the Gallatin was off color which was a bummer since we were planning on fishing there. He also mentioned that he thought the Gallatin was the best option for good fishing in the area based on his experience so far. Still in shock over the unbelievable timing it took for us both to be at BRF at the same time, we eventually said goodbye as his wife was waiting on him.



After finishing up at Blue Ribbon Flies, we decided to head up to the Gallatin anyway. It turned out to be a good decision. We got there and while the water was cloudy, it was still fishable as long as you could cast in the increasingly gusty wind. I started out fishing hoppers figuring that surely the strong wind would be blowing them into the water but I couldn't rise a single fish. Soon after, I switched to a Tellico nymph and things improved drastically.



The first few fish were chunky hard fighting rainbows that put on a great aerial display. Then it happened. My nymphs were drifting through a nice hole when my line suddenly stopped and then shot upstream a couple of feet as I set the hook. A nice fish had taken the Tellico and started bulldogging persistently. Flashes of what looked like gold were soon reaching the surface and I thought it was a good brown. Soon however, I brought a whitefish to hand (my first I might add). I'm beginning to understand why people dislike these fish. More on that another time...



After landing that beast, I soon caught several more rainbows and cutthroat before finally landing one brown. Four species in a couple of hours from one stream was pretty amazing but it was time to move on. The wind had got even worse and we had other streams we wanted to look at.





After stopping to check a few spots, we finally settled on the upper Gibbon where I had fond memories of casting to brook trout in a beautiful meadow setting. It was just as I remembered and we were soon catching brookies and the odd rainbow on small ant patterns. They came in two sizes mainly, small and smaller. However they were very willing to eat and provided nonstop fun on dries which is a good time any day in my book. I even caught one guy that had some serious "teeth."



It turned out to be an excellent day exploring a couple of nice streams. We still had other adventures ahead though including the Lamar and Slough Creek not to mention the Yellowstone...

Yellowstone Day 2: Soda Butte Creek

Day two in Yellowstone was dedicated to Soda Butte Creek. The afternoon closure necessitated fishing earlier in the day and we were on the stream by around 11:00. We fished in the vicinity of Soda Butte and did well, mainly on terrestrials.

Things started out a bit slow for me as I was learning where the Cutts liked to feed and hold but once I figured out where they were, things became easy. It wasn't until just a little while before the closure that I discovered a deadly technique to take some nicer fish. It was really quite easy but provided a lot of fun and entertainment.

I positioned myself somewhere around the head of a pool where the riffle from above dropped off the ledge into the deeper waters of the pool. The best spot was where there was an eddy at the head of the pool. The fish would just stack up in there. The slightly off color water of Soda Butte Creek is really what made this technique work. After I had positioned myself, I would cast my fly just a short distance, never more than 10 feet or so. The goal was to have all my line off the water with just the fly touching. Once I got the fly (foam hopper) on a good drift, I would start tapping my rod vigorously enough to twitch the fly as it drifted through the whirlpool. The fish absolutely went nuts.

This technique accounted for my best fish which probably was around 15 or 16 inches. Unfortunately, the closure went into effect soon after I figured out this method so we had to move elsewhere.

After a quick lunch, we decided on fishing upper Soda Butte Creek above Icebox Canyon. This proved to be an excellent choice and we caught several more fish with most in the 6-10 inch range but a few nice 12-14 inch fish were mixed in as well. The best fly here was hard to determine. It seemed that once you caught a fish or two on one fly, it would no longer be effective. This kept me changing flies quite frequently. Another interesting phenomena we discovered here was that the fish were very hard to spook. Often, the fish would not hit on the first, second, third or even fourth drift. Sometimes it took 15 or 20 casts before a fish would rise. This was strange since I'm used to the willing fish of the Smokies where it is generally agreed upon that you give each spot a few casts and move on.



Despite changing flies often, several fish came to hand to complete a productive and interesting day. That evening, we decided we were going to make the trek over to West Yellowstone and the Gallatin River so we got to bed early. The next day would prove to be amazing...

The Fun Continues!

Just as promised, I have taken time away from toiling over a textbook to bring you more on West Trip 2007. While I still have a post or two about Colorado, it is time to focus on Yellowstone for awhile.

We arrived in the park on August 6, 2007 and made our way to the Northeast corner to find a camp. We decided on Pebble Creek which turned out to be an excellent decision. After setting up camp and being lazy for awhile, it was time to catch that first Yellowstone trout of the trip. Being 100 feet from Pebble Creek made the decision easy (and the fact that the afternoon closures on the larger streams was in effect). It didn't take long to get that first Yellowstone Cutt and several others, most being 5-6 inches.

After being spoiled by all the hogs in Colorado, we wanted something at least a bit larger so we wandered up the road towards the upper portion of Soda Butte above Icebox Canyon where the closure was not in effect. We soon found a few fish that were a bit more respectable before wandering back towards camp to make some supper.

After eating, we just had to go find some pigs so we went to Trout Lake. Everything I had read about this lake indicated the fish were generally of good size. Upon arrival, we found the lake to have a bit of chop on the surface making spotting fish difficult. However, after awhile it calmed down and we were spotting some monsters. Some fairly large speckled cream midges were coming off but I had nothing in my box to match. I knew that the fish were probably taking midges under the surface though so I tied on a zebra midge and was soon sight casting over a nice Cutthroat. Many casts later, the fish ate solidly. Surprisingly, I had already got this fish to eat twice but had not stung it yet. The gorgeous fish soon came to hand and posed for a brief picture before it swam away.

That wrapped up the first day in the park but we had only begun...

Back To School

That time of year has rolled around again when fishing must be pushed to the back burner and I crack down and focus on school. At least, that's the story I'm telling. Needless to say, one must have some stress relief on occasion and when that time comes, I'll probably be knee deep in a trout stream somewhere in East Tennessee. Unfortunately, school will cut into my time to think up stuff to put on here so my posts will be running shorter, although I do hope to keep them coming often. I still have several posts to make about West Trip 2007 including the PIG rainbow in Yellowstone among other exciting moments. Check back often and soon for those details...

Also, for those that haven't noticed, we have another poll to the right. Let me know what your favorite season for fishing is...

The Orderly Fly Box

The routine has not failed me yet. I will get out my vest, go through all the pockets, and eliminate the extras and make a note to pick up something if I'm running low. The worst is always the fly boxes. I always carry several, specifically a box for dries, one for dries, nymphs and midges, and one strictly for nymphs and a few streamers. Occasionally I'll add a streamer box to this depending on where I'm fishing. After I overhaul the contents of my boxes and reorganize, they look much better than when I started. Apparently I still have a long ways to go though.

We recently received this photo from Trout Zone reader Phil Brandt. He was preparing to embark on a trip out west and his fly box is, well, immaculate to say the least. At least we now have a higher standard to strive for...

Stream Ethics

Much thanks to those that noticed and voted in our poll on whether or not people should be fishing in the Smokies. The end results where interesting but probably approximately what I would have expected. The final tally had 60% of voters saying that people shouldn't be fishing, 15% said it was fine to go fishing, and 25% said it depended on the water temperatures.

Honestly, I believe any of these answers is fine because it is a personal decision. Everyone that fishes should develop some type of ethic because the thought process is important. Too me, it all revolves around respecting your quarry.

Personally, it bothers me to fish under these conditions but it also occurs to me that there are places around the country where the streams cease to flow part of the year with the remaining fish stuck in isolated pools. These fish do just fine and actually thrive, having adapted over the years to the inconsistencies of nature. A prime example would be some of the streams in the desert southwest.

Regardless of whether we fish during the low water or not, it will be extremely interesting to see how the fish populations are doing once the flows improve. Hopefully it won't be too long!!!

Rocky Mountain High...

The opportunity to go to Rocky Mountain National Park during West Trip 2007 was one that I couldn't miss. Until recently, Rocky Mountain was on the list of parks that I had not visited. Not now...I can officially check it off the list. Trail Ridge Road was everything I expected and then some. The sweeping vistas that can be taken in on this high-elevation road are enough in themselves.

Fishing in the Park was only a bonus...

I wet a line in a couple different streams and came up with a couple brookies and several browns. I missed way more fish than I caught, mainly because I was so caught up in the scenery.

The local wildlife was too bold, I can only assume this little guy was looking for a handout. Probably because too many tourists were feeding it, illegally I might add.

The sunset was spectacular, I'll let the picture tell the rest...

The Frying Pan

After the spectacle that was the Taylor River, the rest of the trip somehow seemed anticlimactic. Yet, with each new place we found something to match or even surpass the quality fishing we had found on the Taylor. Between the Pan and the Taylor, there were some small streams visited but those are better left for another time. I'm a small stream addict and telling about them could become a lengthy endeavor which I don't feel up to right now.

The Pan, ah the Frying Pan...where do I begin? This was my first trip to the river and I really didn't have any idea what to expect. A quick stop at Taylor Creek Fly Shop in Basalt, CO fixed that problem and I came away poorer by several dollars but much richer in my knowledge of the river, not to mention being armed with the best local flies.

The drive up the river had me drooling but also frustrated. All the best water, or nearly all was clearly marked as private. This is the biggest complaint I have against Colorado. The state has a ton of incredible water which could easily rival anything else in the country. However, they don't have the angler-friendly stream access laws found in places such as Montana. Fortunately, despite the large amount of closed water, there was still plenty available and we were after some hogs which meant heading to just below the dam.

The Toilet Bowl is THE place to be on the Frying Pan and after finding it crowded several times, we finally managed to get a spot to cast over the monsters that live there. Despite all we had heard about how technical it was, it actually seemed easier than the Taylor and the fish were every bit as large. Once again the way to catch the fish was by sight fishing. The takes were so soft and quick that by the time an indicator moved it was too late.

Within minutes of fishing the Toilet Bowl, I hooked my first Frying Pan brown and it was a nice fish. Not as nice as the monsters that occasionally drifted out of the depths but still a good fish.

Later on we fished further down river where PMDs were pouring off and the fish were looking up. The hatch didn't last too long but it was great while it lasted. That evening it was back to the Toilet Bowl in search of hogs. I soon had my buddy fishing the best spot and was acting as spotter. He was casting over a nice brown which he couldn't see too well since the light was getting dim. It was still light enough for me to see from my better vantage point though and I saw the fish turn and the white mouth show for a brief second. I made a loud whoop and my buddy set the hook to find a 23 inch brown pulling back. I've never seen anyone so focused on landing a fish. At first I didn't know why but then asked about the tippet. The response was some muttering about 7X and I knew that he was in for quite a ride. Amazingly, the tippet held through several scorching runs and he was able to keep the fish from getting in the heaviest current, a minor miracle in itself. Finally, the fish began to tire and I waited expectantly with the net. An opportunity presented itself and I lunged at the fish, just corralling it before it went crazy again. After a quick picture, we watched the fish swim back out into the current to be caught yet again someday.

Not to be outdone, I caught another fish but not as large as the beast my buddy landed. "Another day," I told myself. The next day was dedicated to the Roaring Fork, another great river I had never got to fish. We met up with a local named Tony that had offered to show us around. He turned out to be a great fisherman and put us on some great fish. The theme of our stay in the Basalt area turned out being the One That Got Away and it started on the Fork.

We were fishing up the river through some of the most beautiful pocket water I've ever fished. I was wading slowly upstream watching for fish when I saw a large brown finning behind a boulder. The fish was actively feeding and I figured I could catch him from where I was at. I carefully lobbed my nymphs upstream from his position and watched as he turned on my fly, pulling it away before he actually ate. "That will spook him for sure," I muttered to myself. Strangely, the fish turned around and returned to his feeding lie and I got another shot. After several more drifts, I saw the fishes mouth open when my flies were in the area and soon found that it was one of my nymphs he had taken. The fish absolutely took off. I mean, he motored upstream through a short rapids and was gone with my fly recoiling with the line back in my face as he shook it free. This was just the beginning.

The next morning was our last one before we took off for Rocky Mountain National Park. We were determined to get another shot at the Toilet Bowl and accordingly got there well before sunrise. Thankfully, we didn't get up early in vane and found the spot unoccupied. We began fishing and I hooked a decent brown right off and figured it was going to be crazy. Strangely though, the fishing wasn't that good and we were starting to think about leaving. Then the Monster showed up. It appeared to be the big brown we had been watching the past few days that would silently appear out of the depths and then slide back like a ghost as quickly as he had appeared. Today however, the fish seemed to be in full feeding mode and stayed out where we could see it for awhile before disappearing, only to reappear again shortly after. After probably an hour of this nonsense, the fish came up within about 8 feet of me and and I shakily made a careful cast....behind him. I was almost to pull it out when the fish slowly turned and then darted back towards my flies. I saw his mouth open and then his head turn as my line came tight and it was off to the races.

The day before over on the Fork, Tony had asked if any fish had taken us to the cleaners. I had replied in the negative but found out quickly what he meant. This fish looked to be somewhere in the 25-30 inch range and perhaps larger. I do know it was much larger than the 23 inch fish caught previously. As soon as I set the hook, the fish took me to the cleaners. It roared straight out through the current heading towards the large eddy in the backside of the Toilet Bowl. I was nervously watching my line approach the backing and then the fish tore through the eddy heading for the farthest corner of the pool. My reel was screaming and I was shaking like a leaf. I'm sure you know what happened next... The line suddenly went limp and I was pretty sure the fish was gone. Reeling line in, I was positive I would find my flies gone but to my shock, they were still intact. I didn't know what to think, could I have done something different? Of course, I had probably done everything I could do and on 6X, this fish would have been extremely difficult to land in the first place. Then I realized, I HAD tricked this monster. The only thing I didn't do was land it and I knew that next time, the fish would probably not be quite as lucky.

I left after that. I just didn't want to fish any more. I had reached the pinnacle and was ready to let the rest of the fish be. Of course, I would be back someday. The experience was something I wanted to have again, and next time, that fish will be caught...