Mishap

Last week I was able to get out a little with some guys on the Caney to float in canoes.  Naturally I wanted to fish in the process so I took the streamer rod and pounded the banks here and there.  Problems started when we were nearly at the end of the float. 

I had just hooked a large striper and as it was running straight up river, somehow the canoe flipped.  Now this was during generation and anyone that has every floated the Caney knows that even one generator is pushing a lot of water.  We watched equipment floating off downstream while we swam our swamped canoe ashore.  Quickly bailing the water out, we through the few things we still had back in the boat and started downstream at top speed to catch everything. 

Thankfully we recovered all the the lost items except I had a stream thermometer disappear and my sunglasses vanished at some point in the chaos.  Now for the bad part.  Sometime during the confusion, the tip on my 7 wt broke (already have a new tip in hand, thanks to amazing customer service from TFO!!!).  Most costly though was the fact that my DSLR was in its case, lashed to a cross bar in the canoe.  When it flipped, the camera was soaked.  Most likely the camera is toasted along with the lenses.  I can't afford the expensive cleaning and can't justify the cost when I can add a couple of hundred bucks and just get a new camera.  So for the time being I'm without a good camera. 

Unfortunately, my old Pentax Optio W-20 has an extremely short battery life now.  That is being fixed as I just ordered another battery.  However, I still need to replace my DSLR.  Hopefully over the next few months I can save up enough to make the purchase.  In the meantime, please forgive me if the content (especially pictures) is not of the quality you have come to expect.  I still have some reports from Yellowstone to add, complete with good quality pictures from before the camera died...  Hopefully by sometime after the new year I can come up with the necessary cash to buy a new camera.

Brown Trout Mania

My favorite time of year is upon is, when the browns turn agressive and the temperatures start to turn chilly.  The next 4-5 months will bring some of my favorite fishing conditions of the year.  Cold weather will keep the crowds away, and I can roam my favorite waters in peace.  While most people spend the majority of the winter tying flies for spring and dreaming of hatches to come, I'm doing most of my dreaming and tying now and fishing when its colder. 

Lately I've been specializing in fall patterns, both for general trout fishing in the mountains and for chasing monster browns with larger than normal flies.  Today I tied my first articulated pattern and thoroughly enjoyed it.  The only problem with these articulated patterns is that the time required to tie them means that losing one will probably bring on a bout of depression....for a minute or two anyways.  Here is my first attempt at an articulated streamer, inspiration thanks to Kelly Galloup's SD...

One Day at a Time

Yellowstone is too vast to appreciate in one visit.  We recognized that before going by not really planning each day there.  It would be enough to just appreciate our surroundings and take what each day gave us, one day at a time.  When we woke up our second day, the Tetons seemed like a good destination for the day.  Despite the fact that we drove past them on our way in, we never had enough time to really enjoy and explore them, much less take plenty of pictures while we were there. 

Before breakfast, I drove up the Firehole and took lots of pictures of the steam rising from the numerous geothermal features along with some more pictures of the falls in the canyon.  In one large field, a pair of sandhill cranes were just far enough away to present a challenge for my camera.  I didn't stay gone long.  The food was in the trunk of the car, and I knew that the others were probably waking up and getting hungry. 

Heading south towards Old Faithful after breakfast, the sky at first seemed promising.  By the time we reached Lewis Falls though, clouds were building off to the south indicating that a forecasted increase in monsoon moisture was indeed approaching.  By the time we were passing the South Entrance Station, it was obvious that the nice clear skies were not going to happen.  At that point though we had invested enough in getting to the Tetons so we just kept driving. 

In the past, I've taken lots of different pictures of the Tetons but this was the first day with a dreary sky.  Despite its foreboding appearance, the sky never really dropped its load of moisture on us.  Up the valley towards Yellowstone it was a different story however as sheets of rain hid the horizon from our view. 

Despite the somewhat challenging light conditions, it was still fun to play with the camera and take some pictures.  While in the Teton area, we spotted two separate moose (both cows), although at distances too great for good pictures even with my new zoom lens.

The following are all pictures from the day, mostly in chronological order. 

 

Free Giveaway

While I know its probably decreasing my chance at winning, I thought I'd let everyone know about a great giveaway happening over at Arizona Wanderings, one of my favorite blogs on fishing in the southwest.  Ben is giving away a fly box stocked with some of his favorite small stream flies as well as an Arizona Wanderings t-shirt.  Check out the details to see how you can increase your odds of winning...

Hot and Cold Water: Yellowstone Part One

For fly fishermen, the lure of Yellowstone exists in the multitude of cold-water fisheries. From small streams, to lakes, to the mighty Yellowstone, the Park has waters to suit any taste. However, the original goal of the Park was more to preserve the natural beauty as seen in the hot springs, geysers, and other geothermal features as well as to preserve the native wildlife.
  
On my recent trip to Yellowstone, I was able to get in enough fishing to stay relatively content and yet at the same time enjoy the scenic beauty of the Park, often from behind the lens of my camera. During our stay, many hours were devoted to searching for wildlife and just soaking in the majestic views. 

The first full day in the Park involved hot water, perfect timing, and a nice hike that included some amazing wildflower viewing.  We had 8 days to enjoy the Park and planned a rather ambitious schedule that would cover all the things we wanted to do and see.  Old Faithful was high on the list and an obvious must.

Madison Campground would be our home for the first four nights and it is in relatively close proximity to Old Faithful.  We woke up and ate a hearty breakfast during which resident ground squirrels came by to see if they could get a handout. After cleaning up, we headed up the Firehole River.  Taking the Firehole River Drive allowed us to explore the Firehole River Canyon with its falls and cascade.  The scenery in this short stretch is so much better than on the main road.  After completing the drive, we continued on to Old Faithful.

Luck was with us and we found a parking spot relatively close to the viewing area.  Noticing large crowds watching expectantly, we hustled over and within 3-4 minutes Old Faithful erupted.  On previous trips, I have always arrived shortly after an eruption resulting in long and boring waits.  The hot water from Old Faithful provided the perfect opportunity to take pictures. 

My camera stayed busy the entire time and throughout the day, capturing incredible views of hot springs, steam vents, and beautifully colored runoff from the geothermal features along the Firehole River. 

One of my favorites is Grand Prismatic Hot Spring.  I could spend a whole day trying to capture all the moods and scenery around the hot spring which lies in the Midway Geyser Basin.  The colors range from a vivid deep blue to some of the richest oranges and reds I have ever seen.  Just the scale of the hot spring is mind boggling to me.

By this time the constant exposure to the sun, which was more intense than we were used to due to the elevation and dry air, was beginning to take a toll on everyone.  Some time in the air-conditioned car searching for wildlife seemed like a great solution.  After a quick consultation, it was unanimously agreed on to head for the Gallatin River and maybe find a good hike if the afternoon cooled off any. 

We drove down the Gallatin and eventually made it outside of the Park into Montana.  The beautiful Gallatin River canyon kept drawing us on but eventually we realized that this was a drive that could go on indefinitely and turned back towards the Park.  By now, clouds were blocking at least some of the sun's intensity.  The cooler temperatures drew us out of the car and up the Fan Creek Trail in a bid to finally discover some interesting wildlife. 

Up to this point, elk, pronghorn, and the ground squirrels were the only interesting animals discovered.  The wild flowers were absolutely gorgeous though and soon interrupted us from our main goal of finding wildlife.  At Fan Creek, I wet a line for a few minutes but soon decided to head back down the trail as everyone else was not too interested in watching me fish for hours. 

As we headed into an area of dense timber, a rustle quickly brought us to a halt.  With itchy trigger fingers searching for the bear spray, we soon discovered the culprit.  A mighty chipmunk was posing on a nearby log.  Soon my new zoom lens was on and being put to good use.  All too soon the little creature decided that enough was enough and headed for the safety of a hole in a rotten stump.  The remainder of the hike back was uneventful and we returned to our search for wildlife. 

Driving downstream again, we found nothing more in the way of wildlife but did find some more picture worthy wildflowers.  The late afternoon sun briefly lit up the whole valley for a stunning scene, but all too soon the light faded as the clouds returned.  Tired from such a packed day, we headed back to camp for a hot meal and bed.  The next day promised to be as busy as the first...

Another Great Sale

More great items on sale. Save up to 20% on more than 60 fishing products.  Included in the list is one of my favorite reels if price is a consideration...for the good deal on the Battenkill reel check out the third page of items...

Book Review: "No Shortage of Good Days" by John Gierach

Small streams are one of fly fishing’s pleasures that is particularly meaningful to me.  I grew up fishing the small streams of East Tennessee for the rainbow, brown, and brook trout that live in the cold water running down from the forested slopes that encompass some of the roughest terrain east of the Mississippi.  When I heard that John Gierach’s latest book not only contained chapters on small streams, but specifically a chapter on fishing with East Tennessee sons, James and Walter Babb on some of my own home waters, I immediately knew I had to read the book “No Shortage of Good Days.”  Around the time of release, I was contacted about doing a book review, and while I did not accomplish that goal in a timely fashion, I have finally come up with the time to do the review. 

Gierach’s newest work is full of the same recognizably Gierach style and content that has made all his other books so successful.  Reading anything by Gierach, I can’t help but recognize my own experience and journey as a fly fisherman in the stories he relates. 

He wastes no time getting on the subject of small streams with chapter one entitled, “Third-Rate Trout Streams.”  The timing was ironic because I have spent some time recently dwelling on how I could love my local waters so much, and yet most visiting anglers would be terribly disappointed compared to more glamorous destinations such as the blue ribbon trout streams of the Rocky Mountains.  Gierach naturally communicates his thoughts on the subject more clearly than I would have.  He has “this idea that constant exposure to the ordinary is good for the soul” and I couldn’t agree more (p. 3).  Often, after an extended trip out west, I’ll return home and catch a nice fish on my home water and wonder why I bother to seek the pot of gold at the end of the western rainbow. 

The beauty of the ordinary is that we can learn to understand the subtle nuances of our home waters, which in turn gives us a foot up on all the competition that filters through over the years.  I would place my bets on a local legend here in the Smokies anytime against an outsider in a fishing competition.  Experience in the form of time on the stream is the best teacher.  Learning to love these smaller, less famous streams is all about figuring out how to have good to excellent fishing on what is otherwise considered marginal or average water. 

In fact, while it is hard to infer Gierach’s opinion of my own beloved home waters, it appears from what I know about him that he probably is not looking for a plane ticket to return as soon as possible.  He describes the area fishing as “Small streams, spooky trout that seldom rise to dry flies, difficult to nearly impossible casting conditions…,” and knowing his preference for bamboo and dry flies, I would assume that he probably wasn’t overawed with our east Tennessee small streams based on that description (p. 66). But in the end, to borrow a Gierach phrase, that’s as it should be.  The outside visitor should not enjoy everything that an area has to offer on their first visit…it just wouldn’t be fair to the locals who have spent their lives learning the streams. 

One thing I appreciate about Gierach is that he is dedicated to the sport.  He relates his experiences fishing in winter, including a day on the famed South Platte which was so cold that the odd iceberg was drifting downstream.  Later in the day, the stream filled with slush, but not before he caught 7 fish and this on a day where most normal people wouldn’t even consider fishing.  I particularly was reminded of an amazing day on the Caney one winter by the following:

Every ten casts or so, the part of the line that was wet would ice up in a pattern resembling a string of pearls and I’d have to chip it off before I could cast again. By the time that was done, a glaze of clear ice would have formed around the wet flies. I thought it would probably melt away once the hooks were back in the water, but I wasn’t certain of that, so I’d chip them free with my thumbnail. Then I’d have to stop and warm my fingers in my armpits for a while (p. 86).

Another late winter experience he relates reminded me of another aspect of fishing I often find myself caught up in. This particular winter he found himself in the habit of driving up to a short local tailwater that is normally fishable all winter.  The stream is not noteworthy in general fly fishing terms, it just happened to be convenient.  Gierach tells of stumbling onto a small midge hatch that was fairly reliable and would normally stir at least a few fish from their lethargy for a period of surface feeding.  On the first day, he threw size #24 patterns at the fish to no avail only to run into another local on the way out who claimed he was catching a few on size #32 flies.  For the following few weeks, Gierach returned on a somewhat regular basis to dial in the hatch and then just to get that fishing fix when nothing else around was really open yet. 

Over the years, I’ve found myself repeatedly returning to some particular stream or lake, often out of convenience, but also because I’ve formed something akin to a grudge with the local fish.  That they eat is obvious, but sometimes it seems so hard to figure out what pattern they will take that it becomes something of an obsession.  And of course, once I crack the code, I like to return just because I can (and perhaps for a little revenge on the fish as well for making me work so hard). 

One of the final chapters was so much like déjà vu that I found myself daydreaming more than focusing on what I was reading.  In “A Good Year,” Gierach recalls a particularly great year on his local high mountain streams.  The fish were particularly healthy and willing to eat or so it seemed.  I was transported back a few years, never mind how many, to when I was able to fish the Smokies fairly regularly. 

That particular summer will stay with me the rest of my life.  It was the last year I can remember Abrams Creek fishing even remotely well on a consistent basis, but it was not just good, it was phenomenal.  Every trip produced nice fish and the same went for all the branches of Little River and any other stream I attempted.  Some years are just better than others due to a combination of natural conditions.  While I’ve figured at least some of those out, I still can’t make Mother Nature do what I want so in the meantime, I’ll settle for the good memories and be glad to have been reminded but a great writer. 

All good things must come to an end, but this particular book wasn’t shoved into a hidden corner of the book shelf to gather dust.  Instead it assumed its place among the books that I at least somewhat regularly return to as an old friend when I need a little entertainment or something to pass my time.  As far as Gierach’s books go that I have read, this one is probably my favorite.  If you want to be transported around the world on fly fishing adventures in a book that is still down to earth and will remind you of your own fishing experiences, then I would definitely recommend reading “No Shortage of Good Days.”

Incredible Deal

Super deal right now for a backup rod/reel combo.  If you've ever found yourself with a broken rod 3 hours from home, you know the necessity for having a backup.  At this price, you can even buy 2-3 different combos...

Interlude

The first week of school is always hectic, and most years I don't really have an opportunity to fish until things calm down 2-3 weeks into the school year.  Fortunately, I was prepared enough for the upcoming week to make it out Sunday afternoon for a couple of hours.  The stream was a favorite local stream known for its smallmouth, redeye, and other sunfish.
Fishing slowly down the stream was a great way to relax and recover from a busy week.  I'm already plotting how to sneak off for an evening this week.  Unfortunately that probably won't actually happen but it's still nice to dream a little.

During my time on the water, I saw a multitude of fish and even caught more than my usual share despite the very low water conditions.  While working slowly down the stream, I even scared an otter that was playing in the creek.  It soon vanished under a huge undercut rock.  I was surprised to find that its presence did not really affect the fishing much at all.  The catching still went on uninterrupted...

Long Drive