I have written about Ed, who I see on the McKenzie all the time, and who I had the joy of running into on my recent trip down there. He is 84 and has fished the same area for 40 to 50 years. Every time anyone gets into a fish he is excited. So when I saw him on my trip on the 4th (I was getting away from fireworks which I can’t stand) I was excited, and the lucky for us the fish were rising like crazy. Anything that looked like a mayfly was nailing fish. Eighteen or so the first hour I was there and twelve more the second. Things died off and the fish were not eve responding to the nymphs.
Two days before this trip to the McKenzie Alex and I were there and since we got no action on the river we went to explore Smith Reservoir. I fished a few streamers and had a few grabs but no takes and Alex was in the same boat so we decided to head off and explore more areas. Unfortunately when we got back to my house that night I realized I had lost my large Morell box that was packed with about fifty streamers (I was feeling Whitefishcantjump’s pain). So on this trip I went back down to the area we were and found my box right where I knew it was. The water level in the lake had risen though and the box was a mere foot from the water now. Lucky, huh.
“Angling is, or should be, essentially a philosophic and reflective engagement, rewarding the practitioner not only with trout, but with a more mature comprehension of life itself” Ben Hur Lampman
“I held the tiny nymph on my fingertips, a mere speck I duplicated with a clumsy fake. As I cast it into the fast-moving current, I too become a speck, held by the the expanse of beauty that surrounded me, engulfed by a sense of peace as enormous as the nymph had been small. Amongst the mighty scheme of things, I felt I had a place.” Chiyo Sagara
“The fish and I were both stunned and disbelieving to find ourselves connected by a line.” William Humphrey
Alex and I headed out to one of our favorite spots and found the fishing super slow. We persisted for a few hours trying every little section of water but the normally abundant fish could not be enticed to the surface—for that matter the nymphing was dead too. One of the few fish I found was happy to make a quick getaway:
(No that is not a swimming pool, the water is that clear. And yes it is freezing cold.)
We decided to check out some of the water we had never seen so we headed up to Smith Reservoir on the Upper McKenzie. It was beautiful (see photo above) and the water was crystal clear but there is no real drive in access around the lake so it seems more like a boat lake to me. Which is ok with me I just didn’t happen to bring my pontoon. You could see lots of trout cruising near shore and they would mess with the flies but we couldn’t get any hooked.
We worked the creek below the dam and found lots of small brookies (I think they were brook) willing to take some dry flies. The largest was about 8 inches but after such a slow morning they put a smile on our face and so we fished the creek all the way to it’s end. Here’s Alex working one of the many little pools:
On the way back we hit up our favorite spot and fished for 30 more minutes or so. Alex got a nice fish to take a Parachute Adams (my favorite fly) and we decided that was a good end to the day so we went in search of food and beers.
I was in Colorado last week for my younger brothers wedding and I had two days to fish at the start of the week. I arrived on Saturday and after stopping at my parents house to see my wife and daughter, who had flown out a week earlier, I headed up to the four bedroom cabin in the Mueller State Park west of Colorado Springs that I had rented for my younger brothers bachelor party. There was lots of drinking and poker that first night. The “young guys” in the group slept off there hangovers while my older brother and I in typical “old man with kid” fashion woke early. When we realized it was going to be awhile before everyone else was up we headed 30 minuets away to 11 mile. I didn’t get into any fish that morning but my brother got into a rainbow that took him for a ride down the river. It wasn’t that big of a fish but it put up one hell of a fight for him.
We headed back to the cabin and found everyone else up so we hopped into Cripple Creek for some lunch and then headed out to 11 mile again. We found my dad and his friend already fishing and we joined right in. We landed a few nice fish, but it was really fun to see my dad and both brothers fishing. It’s such a fun way for us all to hangout together.
One of the more annoying things about 11 mile is that the fish are so smart that they just hang out directly downriver from your feet and pick off whatever you kick up. I had several fish following me all afternoon. If only I could catch these guys:
On Monday my dad, older brother and I headed South of Cripple Creek to fish a private creek. It was in a beautiful canyon and there were lots of browns anxious to slam flies. When we first arrived I had on a Royal Coachman (which had been recommended by the creeks owner) but had no luck (ok, ok. I say I had no luck but I gave the Coachman about five minuets before I switched flies). I put a small Mercury Bead Brassie on the line and first cast got a nice 10 inch brown, second, cast another 10 incher, and so on a few more times. I headed back down the creek and hooked my dad up with some of the flies and then worked my way back up the river in search of my brother while picking up fish.
After I found my brother and keyed him on to and fly that was copper colored I went up above him a good distance and found the great hole that you can see in the photo below. It is in the upper right corner of the photo where the entire creek slammed into a fifty foot cliff and made a 90 degree left turn. I about six fish in the 12 – 14 inch range out of the hole and then I got into the fish in the photo which was the largest I found all day. Those browns sure can fight though!
I just got a really sweet Benchmade Barrage knife for being the best man at my younger brothers wedding. It’s an assisted opening knife and the blade snaps out with such a satisfying click. My brother knows I am a sucker for nice knives.
I have been falling a LOT when I have been going out lately and have been chocking it up to getting older. But then I actually flipped my felt boots over to look at them and noticed that the felt was almost wearing through. Have I really logged that many miles on these boots? I guess I am in to hiking to get at the more remote spots so it makes sense. Anyhow, I went to get the Simms Rivershed and ended up with the Guide model. While I was at it I got nine HardBite star cleats for each boot and headed out in my first pair of non-felt boots. Let me tell you these things are like glue. Before long I was hopping from algae covered rock to algae covered rock along the edge of the Deschutes. I will be curious to see how they work on the Clackamas or Sandy with there small stone bottoms.
I also managed to catch few nice fish. The guys at the shop swore that there was dry fly action but I couldn’t find it. Instead I slipped on some 8 and 10 Black Stones that I have been revising on the vise over the last few weeks. They worked like a charm. The strange thing is that I only landed the first fish. The other ones would be on for a good amount of time but I didn’t get any to hand. Two came off right as I went to net them and three came off after 30 seconds or more on the line. I need to stop getting so excited about finally starting to figure out some of the workings of the Deschutes after all these years and just concentrate on landing the fish. Besides now that I think I am starting to figure the river out it will just change on me again, such is the nature of the Deschutes.
We can’t seem to get away from rain here in the NW. The moisture that usually shoots up to Alaska is aimed straight at us.
So the rivers are blown. The Deschutes is even flooding some of the campgrounds below Maupin. Geez. Guess I will go make a Stumptown latte and settle into my chair for some tying. I have to bust out some brassies and RS2′s for the Colorado trip anyway.
I have not had good luck with standing up in rivers lately. I am not sure if the felt on my boots is getting too thin, or there is just a lot of algae on the rocks, but I have taken a dive more times than not lately. This last Saturday on the Deschutes I got into the nice fish in the picture above. He took off down a heavy set of rapids and all I could do was chase him down the river. I was trying to be careful and before I knew it I was over my hat in water. I jumped back up as quick as I could and kept fighting the fish down the river. When I landed him the passing rafters let out a great cheer for me (only time I have ever thought it was fun to see rafters go by). I went back up to the spot I had fallen and found a 2 foot deep and 4 foot across hole in a rock that was shaped exactly like a bowl—and covered in moss to boot. I went to the bank, laid down, and threw my legs above my head and let all the water run out.
The fish are holding tight to the banks and they are still keying in on the Chubby Chernobyl or a Norm Woods Special. A few were found with a nice heavy Stonefly nymph but if there is any chance of large dry fly action on the Deschutes I have to go there.
There was one fish spot in particular that I was super excited to be able to get to. I bushwhacked my way down to the river (paranoid of rattlers in the grass from last week) and then walked up the river on the slick rocks for a good distance until I was thirty feet below the spot I wanted to be. A big rapid to my left, blackberries right up to the water for 100 feet in either direction and a large tree hanging out over the water. The trees branches were about two feet off the water and below the tree there was a large submerged rock. I was either going to loose a lot of flies to that tree or find a really nice fish below it looking straight up for the falling Golden Stonefly. I took a deep breath and got a good casting rhythm going and laid my fly a few feet up under the low hanging branches and just in front of the rock. SLAM! I was so excited to have found the fish that I ended up taking the awful photo below. But the fact that I was able to get my fly in that spot had me super psyched. Its fun when you can tell you are better then before.
I can’t believe I have barely seen anyone out this year for the stonefly hatch. I saw only a dozen or so fisherman all day (almost all on the other side of the river, and it’s a big river) and last weekend there were about the same amount. I am glad to have the river to myself.
“The finest gift you can give to any fisherman is to put a good fish back, and who knows if the fish that you caught isn’t someone else’ s gift to you?” Lee Wulff
“My biggest worry is that my wife (when I am dead) will sell my fishing gear for what I said I paid for it” Koos Brandt
“Twice I had the feeling…of a sudden anticipation of catching a fish so strong that it amounts to certainty. I suppose it is partly the harmony of effective presentation when everything else is auspicious, so that a take seems in that moment to be the only feasible conclusion” J.R. Hartley
