Featured Photo: Autumn Glow
Monday, January 23, 2012
Old Picture...
Perusing old trip pictures is one way to help a case of cabin fever. Last week I was examining some of my trout pictures and came across an old favorite from back in 2007. I love how this picture turned out. Not a particularly large fish or anything, but I like how the picture is framed and the different perspective on the release...
Searching
Fishing can be a real task sometimes, especially when the fish are being selective or when they are hard to locate. With wild fish we expect refusals, breakoffs, and sometimes they are even difficult to find. Stockers are another thing. Normally they eat anything and then fight half-heartedly for a few seconds before rolling over and being brought to hand.
Yesterday I went searching for some stocked rainbows in a nearby lake. Occasionally in the cold months, I will take advantage of the local stockers more out of curiousity than anything else. My standard pattern is a smallish bead head Simi Seal Leech. Once I catch a couple I start to experiment. Afterall, it is a little interesting to find out a list of things trout will hit when they are dumb enough, nevermind that some people don't even count these stockers as worthy of the name trout.
The standard procedure is pretty much to find a place where I can cast and start stripping the fly anywhere from just under the surface to really deep. If the fish are around that normally will pick up a few. When I arrived on the water, the lower end of the lake was heavily stained, some would even say muddy. My hopes for good fishing began to dwindle when I had an idea. This trip was going to require a little more searching than I normally would do.
Walking along the trail, I enjoyed the cool fresh air. The breeze was light and the temperature in the low 50s felt a lot more like late fall or early spring, definitely not the middle of January. A quick stop to stick my hand in the lake jolted me back to reality. The water was definitely cold so any hope of picking up a few bluegill was fading quickly. As I continued along the upper end of the lake, I had a very specific spot in mind. When I was almost there, I heard the type of splash that can only be a fish.
Quickly searching the water before the ripples vanished, I located the fish. It was hanging in the current as I was now in an area where the lake narrowed to the receive the creek that was its main water source. Another fish soon made its presence known, and I set about finding a good spot to cast from. The first three casts were a little short of my intended target but the fourth one was perfect, and soon I saw a small trout appear out of the off-color creek water to nail the leech pattern. Now I was glad that I brought my rarely fished 3 weight. The fish fought much better than it would have on anything heavier and the rod is so light that it feels like I'm fishing with nothing at all.
After landing the trout, I stood up and aimlessly flicked my fly back out into the creek in preparation for another real cast. Immediately another fish flew up to hit it and it was game on. This time, I worked the fish in close and then left it in the water while I got the camera out. Some of my friends question whether or not I really catch fish as often as I claim so I document a catch every now and then, even if it really isn't very noteworthy. These rainbows were all looking pretty healthy. Their fins had mostly grown back and while they are still a bit pale, that should all change by the time the spring hatches really kick into high gear.
About this time I started to wonder what were the fish actually rising to. Have you ever been out fishing only to realize that you have no idea what the fish are really up to? My first guess of midges proved to be the correct one. It was more of an educated guess than anything and it took me a little while before I actually noticed the tiny light gray insects on the surface of the water and occasionally flying by. Thankfully, the fish were still uneducated enough that I didn't need any 7x and #28 dry flies, and occasionally its nice to fish for something a little less demanding.
In the end, I landed a total of 4 little rainbows, all of which put an admirable bend in the 3 weight. The search for fish was over, but ironically it was not my eyes but my ears which originally located the fish.
I'm thinking more and more about the Smokies. Every time I close my eyes I can see insects drifting lazily down the current as trout rise enthusiastically to spring's bounty. The next few weeks will include a lot of tying in preparation for the spring, but also will probably feature at least one or two trips to the Park to explore the streams in winter.
Yesterday I went searching for some stocked rainbows in a nearby lake. Occasionally in the cold months, I will take advantage of the local stockers more out of curiousity than anything else. My standard pattern is a smallish bead head Simi Seal Leech. Once I catch a couple I start to experiment. Afterall, it is a little interesting to find out a list of things trout will hit when they are dumb enough, nevermind that some people don't even count these stockers as worthy of the name trout.
Walking along the trail, I enjoyed the cool fresh air. The breeze was light and the temperature in the low 50s felt a lot more like late fall or early spring, definitely not the middle of January. A quick stop to stick my hand in the lake jolted me back to reality. The water was definitely cold so any hope of picking up a few bluegill was fading quickly. As I continued along the upper end of the lake, I had a very specific spot in mind. When I was almost there, I heard the type of splash that can only be a fish.
Quickly searching the water before the ripples vanished, I located the fish. It was hanging in the current as I was now in an area where the lake narrowed to the receive the creek that was its main water source. Another fish soon made its presence known, and I set about finding a good spot to cast from. The first three casts were a little short of my intended target but the fourth one was perfect, and soon I saw a small trout appear out of the off-color creek water to nail the leech pattern. Now I was glad that I brought my rarely fished 3 weight. The fish fought much better than it would have on anything heavier and the rod is so light that it feels like I'm fishing with nothing at all.
After landing the trout, I stood up and aimlessly flicked my fly back out into the creek in preparation for another real cast. Immediately another fish flew up to hit it and it was game on. This time, I worked the fish in close and then left it in the water while I got the camera out. Some of my friends question whether or not I really catch fish as often as I claim so I document a catch every now and then, even if it really isn't very noteworthy. These rainbows were all looking pretty healthy. Their fins had mostly grown back and while they are still a bit pale, that should all change by the time the spring hatches really kick into high gear.
About this time I started to wonder what were the fish actually rising to. Have you ever been out fishing only to realize that you have no idea what the fish are really up to? My first guess of midges proved to be the correct one. It was more of an educated guess than anything and it took me a little while before I actually noticed the tiny light gray insects on the surface of the water and occasionally flying by. Thankfully, the fish were still uneducated enough that I didn't need any 7x and #28 dry flies, and occasionally its nice to fish for something a little less demanding.
In the end, I landed a total of 4 little rainbows, all of which put an admirable bend in the 3 weight. The search for fish was over, but ironically it was not my eyes but my ears which originally located the fish.
I'm thinking more and more about the Smokies. Every time I close my eyes I can see insects drifting lazily down the current as trout rise enthusiastically to spring's bounty. The next few weeks will include a lot of tying in preparation for the spring, but also will probably feature at least one or two trips to the Park to explore the streams in winter.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Almost There?
Even a couple of weeks worth of high water on my local tailwater can seem like an eternity. The last several weeks are starting to seem more like several years. The last time I was on the Caney was last November. Since then, the generation has been pretty consistent at over 10,000 cfs. That's a lot of water no matter which way you look at it. A few brave souls are still out in boats but most people have been trying other spots.
Now, Center Hill Lake is finally slipping below the magical 630 feet above sea level. Unfortunately, in the colder months this threshold has little meaning. Winter pool is much lower than that so while we might start to see TVA cut back on the generation a little, it is doubtful that there will be any wadeable windows any time soon. The active weather pattern looks like it will continue for the foreseeable future, so it is doubtful that the lake will drop very fast. In fact, don't be surprised if it spikes up again within the next week or two.
Thankfully, there are still fish that can be caught. In fact, when I stopped by the river to take a look a couple of weeks ago, there were fish rising in a very accessible spot. I doubt I'll be driving 45 minutes to fish a small section of bank, but I can take comfort in the fact that I could if I really wanted to.
The last few days have awakened the first stirring of spring fever somewhere inside. Visions of Blue Quills, Little Black Caddis, Quill Gordons, and of course rising trout, have been dancing around in my head in several spare moments. I find myself staring out the window. What I'm really seeing is not the dreary sky threatening more rain, but huge hatches with lots of rising trout. As inspiration grows, I'll be heading to the Smokies searching for fish willing to be force fed in the colder water now flowing. Some days will be phenomenal with lots of fish out feeding. Other days will be classic winter fishing with tight-lipped trout hugging the bottom, but thankfully those days will soon draw to a close as winter gives way to spring.
Now, Center Hill Lake is finally slipping below the magical 630 feet above sea level. Unfortunately, in the colder months this threshold has little meaning. Winter pool is much lower than that so while we might start to see TVA cut back on the generation a little, it is doubtful that there will be any wadeable windows any time soon. The active weather pattern looks like it will continue for the foreseeable future, so it is doubtful that the lake will drop very fast. In fact, don't be surprised if it spikes up again within the next week or two.
Thankfully, there are still fish that can be caught. In fact, when I stopped by the river to take a look a couple of weeks ago, there were fish rising in a very accessible spot. I doubt I'll be driving 45 minutes to fish a small section of bank, but I can take comfort in the fact that I could if I really wanted to.
The last few days have awakened the first stirring of spring fever somewhere inside. Visions of Blue Quills, Little Black Caddis, Quill Gordons, and of course rising trout, have been dancing around in my head in several spare moments. I find myself staring out the window. What I'm really seeing is not the dreary sky threatening more rain, but huge hatches with lots of rising trout. As inspiration grows, I'll be heading to the Smokies searching for fish willing to be force fed in the colder water now flowing. Some days will be phenomenal with lots of fish out feeding. Other days will be classic winter fishing with tight-lipped trout hugging the bottom, but thankfully those days will soon draw to a close as winter gives way to spring.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Winter Entertainment
During the cold months, it is possible to slow down to something resembling a sane pace. During the warm months, I try to get the most out of the long days. Fishing trips morph into fourteen or more hour monsters that leave me exhausted and wondering why I put myself through the torture. The continuing drive to get as much time in on the water as possible tends to place fishermen out in good weather and bad. In winter, even the diehards tend to slow down at least some however.
A particular trip this past summer found me drifting slowly down the Caney Fork with David Perry. The cicadas were on but things had been a little slow. The sun finally began to take a toll somewhere around three miles downriver from the ramp where we started. Fishing hats are great for blocking glare and peripheral light but also excellent at trapping heat. Both of us were approaching that point where you realize you are too hot and probably more than a little dehydrated. Before things got too crazy, we finally had the sense to anchor up along a shady bank where the effects of the sun would be minimalized. The smart thing would probably have been to stay home. The air temperature was in the mid 90s but thankfully was moderated by the cool water flowing under the boat.
If you translate this memory into winter weather, it would sound something like this: After three weeks of piercing cold, I decided that I had to get out on the water. The Smokies streams were so cold that ice lined the edges and in a few places, a little anchor ice was even showing up. Just getting to the water meant taking my life in my own hands. I spent the whole day drowning nymphs in water that was running 32 degrees and it was clearly pointless to be fishing. Things got really bad when a buddy stopped by and I couldn't even talk normally. Thankfully he had his heater going and somehow translated my babbling into "I'm freezing my @$$ off" and insisted I warm up in his truck.
After a half hour with the heater going full blast, I was finally able to at least drive myself back home.
The second story is clearly a work of fiction. Even the relatively crazy fishermen (I fall somewhere between the two extremes although closer to the crazy category) will normally wait until a break in the weather with afternoon temperatures rising above freezing. Even when you do make it out on the water, the pace can be slow with the focus more on keeping warm. Any fish that are caught are seen as a blessing. Then again, if you go home fishless, there's always the slight feeling that you should have been doing something differently out on the stream. Afterall, the fish still have to eat. Cold weather entertainment does not have to even focus on fishing. Sometimes a great picture shot on the stream can make the day instead of a nice fish to hand.
Of course, there are trips during the transitional months that can turn into problems as well. One March, a few years back, I was hustling up the Little River Trail above Elkmont to a remote stretch of stream. The forecast highs in the mid 50s never happened, at least not anywhere near the water I was fishing. That was probably because the water temperature was at best in the low 40s still and the stream had a strong flow even for spring. Around the time I would normally be thinking of lunch, I was thinking more along the lines of "I really have to find a way to get warm." Knots had become impossible to tie which is my usual indicator of getting too cold.
Thankfully my thumb could just barely operate a lighter. Scraping together a couple dry leaves and a small pile of sticks, I soon had a tendril of smoke as the flame caught. The next thirty minutes found me fighting for just a little heat. Foraging for dry wood turned up a pitifully small collection. After pulling out most of my fire building tricks, the flames produced enough warmth to return feeling to my fingers although the pain made me wonder if freezing was maybe the better alternative.
I should have known better, should have been better prepared, or should have just waited another week. Yet, I caught a good number of fish and what really stands out about that day is that I had the whole stream to myself. The major hatches were on at lower elevations but not up high yet. Having the whole stream to yourself may not sound like much, but it allows you to slow down and enjoy time with the camera or building a lunch fire instead of worrying that someone may be jumping in ahead of you. The camera provided the best entertainment that day.
While there have been some crazy trips in the cold, such as the time we slid the drift boat down 60 feet of ramp on the ice just because we really wanted to fish that day. The bottom of the boat was slightly worse for the wear but we did boat a couple of very nice browns on streamers. I also can't forget the day on the Caney when the air temperature never got over 20 degrees but the trout were rising to stillborn midges all afternoon under a slightly overcast sky. The average trout was around 15 inches but several much larger fish threw the hook or broke me off before I could get a really good look at them.
Most winters, I find myself fishing a few times per month just for the principle of the thing but usually not very hard. The days are more relaxed, and I'm just as likely to watch a nice sunset as I am to keep fishing hard up until dark. My entertainment on days like this often revolves around a camera. My favorite subjects often have water involved but not always fishing. A recent hike resulted in this picture among several others. The light was bad, and I didn't get very creative with my shot angles, but sometimes just getting outside is better than nothing.
A particular trip this past summer found me drifting slowly down the Caney Fork with David Perry. The cicadas were on but things had been a little slow. The sun finally began to take a toll somewhere around three miles downriver from the ramp where we started. Fishing hats are great for blocking glare and peripheral light but also excellent at trapping heat. Both of us were approaching that point where you realize you are too hot and probably more than a little dehydrated. Before things got too crazy, we finally had the sense to anchor up along a shady bank where the effects of the sun would be minimalized. The smart thing would probably have been to stay home. The air temperature was in the mid 90s but thankfully was moderated by the cool water flowing under the boat.
If you translate this memory into winter weather, it would sound something like this: After three weeks of piercing cold, I decided that I had to get out on the water. The Smokies streams were so cold that ice lined the edges and in a few places, a little anchor ice was even showing up. Just getting to the water meant taking my life in my own hands. I spent the whole day drowning nymphs in water that was running 32 degrees and it was clearly pointless to be fishing. Things got really bad when a buddy stopped by and I couldn't even talk normally. Thankfully he had his heater going and somehow translated my babbling into "I'm freezing my @$$ off" and insisted I warm up in his truck.
After a half hour with the heater going full blast, I was finally able to at least drive myself back home.
The second story is clearly a work of fiction. Even the relatively crazy fishermen (I fall somewhere between the two extremes although closer to the crazy category) will normally wait until a break in the weather with afternoon temperatures rising above freezing. Even when you do make it out on the water, the pace can be slow with the focus more on keeping warm. Any fish that are caught are seen as a blessing. Then again, if you go home fishless, there's always the slight feeling that you should have been doing something differently out on the stream. Afterall, the fish still have to eat. Cold weather entertainment does not have to even focus on fishing. Sometimes a great picture shot on the stream can make the day instead of a nice fish to hand.
Of course, there are trips during the transitional months that can turn into problems as well. One March, a few years back, I was hustling up the Little River Trail above Elkmont to a remote stretch of stream. The forecast highs in the mid 50s never happened, at least not anywhere near the water I was fishing. That was probably because the water temperature was at best in the low 40s still and the stream had a strong flow even for spring. Around the time I would normally be thinking of lunch, I was thinking more along the lines of "I really have to find a way to get warm." Knots had become impossible to tie which is my usual indicator of getting too cold.
Thankfully my thumb could just barely operate a lighter. Scraping together a couple dry leaves and a small pile of sticks, I soon had a tendril of smoke as the flame caught. The next thirty minutes found me fighting for just a little heat. Foraging for dry wood turned up a pitifully small collection. After pulling out most of my fire building tricks, the flames produced enough warmth to return feeling to my fingers although the pain made me wonder if freezing was maybe the better alternative.
I should have known better, should have been better prepared, or should have just waited another week. Yet, I caught a good number of fish and what really stands out about that day is that I had the whole stream to myself. The major hatches were on at lower elevations but not up high yet. Having the whole stream to yourself may not sound like much, but it allows you to slow down and enjoy time with the camera or building a lunch fire instead of worrying that someone may be jumping in ahead of you. The camera provided the best entertainment that day.
While there have been some crazy trips in the cold, such as the time we slid the drift boat down 60 feet of ramp on the ice just because we really wanted to fish that day. The bottom of the boat was slightly worse for the wear but we did boat a couple of very nice browns on streamers. I also can't forget the day on the Caney when the air temperature never got over 20 degrees but the trout were rising to stillborn midges all afternoon under a slightly overcast sky. The average trout was around 15 inches but several much larger fish threw the hook or broke me off before I could get a really good look at them.
Most winters, I find myself fishing a few times per month just for the principle of the thing but usually not very hard. The days are more relaxed, and I'm just as likely to watch a nice sunset as I am to keep fishing hard up until dark. My entertainment on days like this often revolves around a camera. My favorite subjects often have water involved but not always fishing. A recent hike resulted in this picture among several others. The light was bad, and I didn't get very creative with my shot angles, but sometimes just getting outside is better than nothing.
As winter slowly gives way to spring, my entertainment will run the entire gamut from photography in the coldest months with occasional fishing trips, to more tying as the spring fishing season approaches interspersed with fishing as cabin fever grows worse. Finally, the fishing trips overtake everything else. During many fishing excursions, I find myself forgetting to even bother with the camera. At the end of such a trip, I find myself wishing for a slower pace and recalling my winter entertainment and relaxation with longing. Of course, on the very next fishing trip I'm going full speed again. Human nature being what it is, I tend to forget the enjoyment that comes from slowing down and allowing the stream to slide by while the fish happily feed unmolested.
You show me a fisherman, and I'll show you an optimistic person. Really what keeps us going is the belief deep inside that the next fish will be a monster or that on the next trip you will land more fish than ever before. Honestly, I think that fishermen would probably make the best gamblers. I don't know why casinos across the country are not using advertising specifically targetted to fishermen. Of course if we switch to another type of entertainment we will probably quit fishing which would be a disaster.
Winter simply reminds me that I should not just be optimistic about the fishing possibilities. If I stop to look around me while I'm fishing, I suddenly see an Otter swimming down the far bank while a Pileated Woodpecker alternates flying from branch to branch and shouting its raucous call, reminding me that it would be nice to carry more than one lens when I'm out in nature. Now if I can just remember to look for these things in the warm weather, my winter entertainment might transition to year-round entertainment.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Plenty of Water
The trout must be happy lately, and if not, I'm sure they will be all next summer. That's because it has rained, and rained, and then rained some more. All this cold water will translate into plenty of cool water for the tailwaters in another 6-8 months or at least we hope. Of course there are a lot of factors that come into play but right now things are looking good. Unfortunately the fishing will continue to be difficult on the tailwaters for the next couple of weeks at least and probably longer for the wade fisherman.
I spent a few days at Fall Creek Falls this week and was able to enjoy the highest falls east of the Mississippi (coming in at a little over 250 feet) under much higher flows than usual. The spitting rain and fog made things difficult with the camera meaning I didn't shoot for very long. A few shots are always better than none however and I was reasonably happy with the result.
I spent a few days at Fall Creek Falls this week and was able to enjoy the highest falls east of the Mississippi (coming in at a little over 250 feet) under much higher flows than usual. The spitting rain and fog made things difficult with the camera meaning I didn't shoot for very long. A few shots are always better than none however and I was reasonably happy with the result.
Monday, January 09, 2012
The Backcountry Journal
I have already mentioned the new Backcountry Journal, but want to mention it again because an article I wrote was just published there this morning. The article is about the 13 year cicadas we experienced this last summer. If it has been just a little cold lately where you live, check out "Once Every Thirteen Years" at the Backcountry Journal and for a moment at least, maybe you can relive the warm days of summer when fish were slurping down the huge bugs all over the southeast and beyond.
Sunday, January 01, 2012
Happy New Years
Here's hoping that you are able to get out early and often in 2012. Make the most of your time on the water and catch some good fish!
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
2011: Quality Fishing
The last year has been a great one for me on the fishing scene. There have been the usual highs and lows, but for the most part the fishing has been consistently good this year. From the Smokies to Yellowstone to the Grand Canyon, this has been the year of firsts and exploration.
The early months of the year brought in exceptionally cold weather. January 2011 was probably one of the slowest months for me from a fishing standpoint in quite some time. While I did get out to float the Caney once and even made it to the Smokies late in the month, the general trend was minimal fishing.
Things improved quickly as February brought in better weather and opportunities for camping in the Smokies and tailwater floats on the Caney with David Perry of Southeastern Fly. The streamer bite was particularly hot on the Caney. As the month neared its end, the looming trip to the Grand Canyon had everyone excited.
The transition between February and March was spent in the Grand Canyon enjoying both relaxation as well as epic fishing opportunities. Bright Angel Creek was the highlight of the fishing part of the trip although the Grand Canyon itself was worth the trip. Returning to Tennessee, I found the spring hatches in full swing. Trips to the Smokies yielded nice browns up to 17 inches on dry flies! When fish were not rising, they were always more than willing to take our favorite caddis pupa droppers, Tellico nymphs, and other assorted patterns.
April brought lots of water to east Tennessee. Most area tailwaters were blown out so we focused our efforts on the Smoky Mountains when able to get out. Some of these trips were weekend trips while others were simply day trips. One of the more frightening moments of the year happened on a hike to Ramsey Cascade when one of my friends got knocked out by a falling limb. Thankfully, she seems to have recovered nicely at this point with no lasting ill effects. Back on the fishing scene, fish were definitely caught during April but the overall numbers were down as I struggled against high water seemingly the whole month.
Getting out in May was a little tricky. As a teacher, certain months are more difficult than others to find free time. Fortunately, everything calmed down by the end of the month as we graduated yet another class and sent all the young people home for the summer. The summer slowdown happened just in the nick of time as the periodic cicadas started hatching in late May, bringing about some of the most epic fishing one can experience in these parts.
June was one of the best fishing months I can remember, thanks largely due to the cicadas. Anyone that fished the Caney during this time will agree with me. From trout to carp, the cicada top water action was insane. Naturally, I didn't get out enough during this time but that was partly because I was beginning to think about Yellowstone.
July was another slow month for fishing. A few trips were made locally on the creeks for smallies and various panfish. For the most part though things were slow. The one exception and highlight of the month was an 18 inch brown caught in the Smokies. By the end of July, we were well into our trip out west.
Catherine McGrath Photograph
The high water year meant nice stream flows throughout Yellowstone during our time there. The wildflowers were in bloom and provided lots of nice sessions with the camera. Day hikes, long wildlife viewing drives, and plenty of relaxation were the highlights of our time in Yellowstone. As August wore on, we eventually had to head back home, but not before getting in a little fishing while in Yellowstone as well.
Back in Tennessee, the month of September was mostly slow for me with minimal fishing. Disaster struck while canoing the Caney when we flipped and my DSLR got fried. Thankfully my old point and shoot Pentax Optio W30 still worked well enough to get me by and proved to be the perfect camera on a Smokies backpacking expedition in search of brook trout. This trip was one of my favorites of the year and the fishing was ridiculous with my first 100+ fish day ever.
October usually means chasing brown trout and this year was no different. Early in the month though I made it out for some bass and bluegill fun! Teaching some guys to fly fish and catching a few fish for myself always makes for a great combination. Fall on Little River was probably the highlight of the month for me although fishing on the Caney was fantastic as well.
November included some camping in the Smokies with brown trout fishing. One of my favorite things this past fall was the great striper fishing that I've been missing for the last couple of years. Lots of nice fish were caught although that game has slowed down as of late.
One of the best months of the year also happened to be the last. December brought the end of a journey I've been on in search of a 20"+ inch brown in the Smoky Mountains. Ever since I was young I dreamed of catching one of these nice fish. The tailwaters also treated me well this fall with fish up to 22 inches on Sow Bug patterns. Another December high point was when we were out chasing musky and boated our very first fish.
Yellowstone: The Fishing
Better late than never right? I realized that in the rush of teaching this last fall, I never finished posting about Yellowstone. While I have enough pictures to last for several years of posting, I will keep the old trip reports to a minimum while still telling the rest of the story about Yellowstone. The fishing was, well, let's just say a little unusual. The great water last summer meant that my normal late July and early August expectations weren't met but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing!
My fishing focused mainly on the Gibbon and Trout Lake. The Gibbon because we camped at Norris and Trout Lake because we took a couple of hikes there for photography purposes. Convenience was the name of the game. On a trip where fishing was definitely not a primary goal, I was fortunate to still get out on the water a fair amount. Early mornings and some late evenings were ideal times to sneak away and fish the upper Gibbon through the meadows by Norris Campground. The setup was made even sweeter by the fact that we were just entering the prime terrestrial months and the Gibbon contains a healthy population of brown trout (at least for now).
Early mornings were spent probing cut banks, deep bend pools, log jams, and any other fishy looking structure for chunky browns. The best brown of the trip required some effort to catch which is as it should be. It first showed itself when it flashed out from under an undercut bank about 20 feet below a nice bend pool. Just before annihilating my fly it must have got a glimpse of me lurking nearby, responding by slamming its mouth shut and vanishing back under the bank. The next couple of days featured early morning visits back to "the spot," but I failed to get another glimpse of the fish.
Finally, the time seemed right. By this time my cousin, his wife, and another friend and his wife had joined us in the next campsite over. As everyone else was just getting around to thinking about breakfast I announced that I was going to catch that fish. Having laid it all on the line, I had to endure a gauntlet of good-natured jokes as I headed down to the water, "You mean like you went and caught it yesterday? Or how about the day before?" My response was to remind them that I never actually said I was going to catch the fish on those other days.
With my fishing reputation at stake, I decided to do everything right. This meant crawling along the stream at least 7-8 feet back from the bank and only raising the rod high enough to toss my offering out. Finally, right in the deep bend cut 20 feet above the spot where the fish first was spotted, the fish struck.
My fly had just smacked the water when a golden brown flash engulfed the pattern. On this particular morning breakfast bit back and the fish was soon in my net for the necessary picture so everyone would believe my fish story. A friend had followed me down and did the honors with my camera.
Not all fishing featured brown trout. Even though I love browns, I enjoy catching other trout as well. One of my favorite locations in Yellowstone is Trout Lake. The resident rainbows, cutthroat, and cutbows can grow to ridiculous sizes. Past trips to Trout Lake have resulted in rainbows up to 24 inches being landed. This past summer that was not meant to happen. I did see one gargantuan rainbow cruising on one of our forays to the lake, but it was spooky, and I never got a good cast over it.
The cutthroat were another story. The inlet was filled with spawning fish and plenty more were stacked up just below in the deep water. This area is off limits to fishing and rightfully so. The fish have enough stress to face with the lake's otter population. There were just enough nice fish out and about cruising the shoreline to keep me interested without making things too easy. As always, it was not easy to trick one of these fish but when I did it seemed like a bit of an accomplishment. A float tube would be the best way to fish this lake, but I made do with what I had.
The fishing was fun, but the real fun on this trip was the wildlife viewing. I caught browns, cutthroat, and brook trout which are always a treat but in the end, the trip will be remembered mostly because of the scenery and experience that is Yellowstone.
My fishing focused mainly on the Gibbon and Trout Lake. The Gibbon because we camped at Norris and Trout Lake because we took a couple of hikes there for photography purposes. Convenience was the name of the game. On a trip where fishing was definitely not a primary goal, I was fortunate to still get out on the water a fair amount. Early mornings and some late evenings were ideal times to sneak away and fish the upper Gibbon through the meadows by Norris Campground. The setup was made even sweeter by the fact that we were just entering the prime terrestrial months and the Gibbon contains a healthy population of brown trout (at least for now).
Early mornings were spent probing cut banks, deep bend pools, log jams, and any other fishy looking structure for chunky browns. The best brown of the trip required some effort to catch which is as it should be. It first showed itself when it flashed out from under an undercut bank about 20 feet below a nice bend pool. Just before annihilating my fly it must have got a glimpse of me lurking nearby, responding by slamming its mouth shut and vanishing back under the bank. The next couple of days featured early morning visits back to "the spot," but I failed to get another glimpse of the fish.
Finally, the time seemed right. By this time my cousin, his wife, and another friend and his wife had joined us in the next campsite over. As everyone else was just getting around to thinking about breakfast I announced that I was going to catch that fish. Having laid it all on the line, I had to endure a gauntlet of good-natured jokes as I headed down to the water, "You mean like you went and caught it yesterday? Or how about the day before?" My response was to remind them that I never actually said I was going to catch the fish on those other days.
With my fishing reputation at stake, I decided to do everything right. This meant crawling along the stream at least 7-8 feet back from the bank and only raising the rod high enough to toss my offering out. Finally, right in the deep bend cut 20 feet above the spot where the fish first was spotted, the fish struck.
My fly had just smacked the water when a golden brown flash engulfed the pattern. On this particular morning breakfast bit back and the fish was soon in my net for the necessary picture so everyone would believe my fish story. A friend had followed me down and did the honors with my camera.
Not all fishing featured brown trout. Even though I love browns, I enjoy catching other trout as well. One of my favorite locations in Yellowstone is Trout Lake. The resident rainbows, cutthroat, and cutbows can grow to ridiculous sizes. Past trips to Trout Lake have resulted in rainbows up to 24 inches being landed. This past summer that was not meant to happen. I did see one gargantuan rainbow cruising on one of our forays to the lake, but it was spooky, and I never got a good cast over it.
The cutthroat were another story. The inlet was filled with spawning fish and plenty more were stacked up just below in the deep water. This area is off limits to fishing and rightfully so. The fish have enough stress to face with the lake's otter population. There were just enough nice fish out and about cruising the shoreline to keep me interested without making things too easy. As always, it was not easy to trick one of these fish but when I did it seemed like a bit of an accomplishment. A float tube would be the best way to fish this lake, but I made do with what I had.
The fishing was fun, but the real fun on this trip was the wildlife viewing. I caught browns, cutthroat, and brook trout which are always a treat but in the end, the trip will be remembered mostly because of the scenery and experience that is Yellowstone.
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