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MAY
IS FOR “EPHEMEROPTERA"
I get excited thinking about the start of
every new fishing season. A few trout have already been taken during
those brief occurrences of 45-degree-plus weather and warm sunshine
in March and April, but we’re still watching and waiting for the
first natural indicator, our friend Ephemeroptera, the marvelous
Mayfly.
This primitive bug is a member of one of the most common, prolific,
and important insect groups to fly fishers because it is a
fundamental food for the trout. It is estimated that there are 600
to 800 different varieties of Mayflies on this continent and
somewhere in the neighborhood of 200 species in the USA alone. We
pay homage to the Mayfly by creating hundreds of different tied
imitations in our continuing effort to come up with the perfect fly
with which to fool Mr. Hookjaw. While a good Mayfly pattern, with
credence given to size, shape, and color, is a requirement for all
serious fly fisherman, it’s also helpful to know a little about
the life cycle of these bountiful insects.
Mayflies begin their lives as underwater larvae (nymphs), and may
take from a few weeks to two years before transitioning into adults,
depending on the specific variety, stream location, and
environmental quality. The gilled larvae feed upon microscopic algae
and small bits of plant matter. Most species attach themselves to
submerged rocks or dig into the river bottom for protection, while
others simply drift with the current.
For the fly fisherman who prefers nymph fishing, discovering natural
stream formations that are conducive to large concentrations of
Mayfly nymphs can significantly increase your success. It’s
possible to use a seine or fine screen to determine if the nymphs
are present and to estimate their density.
Mayfly nymphs begin the transformation to adults (duns), by swimming
toward the surface to shed their skin in the molting process. During
this time they are virtually helpless, lying either on or slightly
below the surface, struggling to escape the nymphal shuck. It is at
this moment that the trout recognize that dinner is served. Hatching
Mayflies can easily be observed as little sailboats floating on the
surface, and trout voraciously consume them in the surface film or
on top, with slashing rises or less-showy slurping attacks.
The best tactic for fishing a dry Mayfly is to work to the fish from
upstream, making quartering dead-drift casts down to the risers. If
your imitation arrives before your fly line, you’ve got a great
chance to fool some big ones. Keep in mind that when there are
abundant insects present, the trout will not feel the necessity to
chase your fly very far, so keep presentations to rising fish within
a foot either side of your target.
While prolific Mayfly hatches are the stuff of great fishing
memories, it is relatively rare to be standing in the middle of a
cloud of hatching insects. Hatches on your favorite stream will
probably be sporadic and unpredictable, but that doesn’t
necessarily mean that you should not expect to do well when only a
few Mayflies are visible. I’ve found that on many rivers in the
west, trout become so selective during a massive hatch that they
will key in on only the live insects, ignoring your imitation
altogether. Talk about frustration! When there are fewer Mayflies
present, your fly has a much better chance of being seen.
For fly fishing success, match the hatch. Most fly fishers tend to
see natural insects as much larger than they really are, and most
misinterpret their color. Try to match the hatch in this order:
size, shape, and color. If you’re not getting strikes, go to a
smaller size fly. I like to fish a fly that’s somewhat smaller
than the insects I’m trying to emulate. Trout key on the shape of
the naturals as well, so make sure that the fly you are using
closely imitates the outline of the real thing. Finally, get the
color right. Mayflies that look white are probably gray, tan, or
olive. My favorite pattern, in Mayfly situations, is a dark brown
Adams Parachute in size 16-18 tied on a lightweight barbless hook.
If you’re fishing for trout 12” or less you can go to 6x tippet,
but I prefer 4x in riffles because of it’s ability to put more
tension on a fighting fish. So, here’s to Ephemeroptera and
a great season of fly fishing! bj
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TROUTIN'
HIS WAY
Here in Montana, it
used to be that you could take a handful of Thomas Cyclones and your
trusty Garcia rod and spinning reel, rig it with six-pound mono, and
head to your choice of several blue-ribbon trout streams within a
couple of hours of Billings. By mid-morning the sun would get on the
water and surface activity would begin with the first caddis or pale
morning dun hatch of the day. Many times I can remember catching my
limit within an hour or less.
Back in the late 60’s you could keep seven fish that were at least
seven inches in length. No problem, because most of these aggressive
trout were in the 12-20” range. The action was really exciting.
Big rainbows and browns would chase almost anything you put in the
water. The strikes were hard and fast, and the runs powerful and
sweet. The reel struggled to keep up with the startled fish as the
fisherman stumbled after him through large boulders and icy
thigh-deep whitewater trying to keep the line from breaking.
Experiences like these quickly become the raw material for creative
fish stories and great memories, but it was all so true and so
wonderful.
One of those pristine fishing mornings I happened upon an older
gentleman fly fishing in a deep eddy where risers were poking their
heads up, three and four at a time, to snatch dark brown mayflies
off the surface. He hadn’t seen me yet because I had approached
quietly from upstream. As I watched in silence, I was immediately
impressed with his patience. Even though the trout were surfacing in
large numbers almost at his feet, he kept his cool and seemed to
pick out a fish to catch on each cast. Each time a gentle and
carefully placed cast, coupled with a perfect drift of the fly would
reward him with a slashing strike, if not a fish. And catch them he
did. I counted nine trout in a dozen presentations of the fly. This
guy was a fishing machine, and I wanted to know much more about his
methods. After hooking his tenth fish and carefully netting and
releasing another hook-jawed 18" brown, he noticed me standing
there with my mouth hanging open, concentrating on his every move.
It occurred to me that the last thing this accomplished angler
needed was a detailed inquisition by a hardware lover. It was
probably his only chance to fish that week, and he just might want
me to disappear quietly...now! Luckily for me, he broke the ice. “Nice
day, isn’t it?” he said. “Sure is” I replied. “How’re
you doin’ with those cyclones?” That was my chance and I took
it. “Well, not as good as you are, that’s for sure. What are you
using?” Then came the response I was hoping for. “Come on over
and I’ll show you.”
We sat on the bank and spent the next hour looking through a box of
his hand-tied dry flies, focusing on the ones that were working so
well at the moment and why they were effective. I did my best to
memorize every word, because I knew that the next time I came to
this spot, I’d be doing it his way. “There’s a right way to
catch a trout”, he said with much conviction. “With flies you’re
fooling the fish on their own terms, by trying to imitate their
natural food, and presenting your fly in a way that makes them think
it’s real. Every strike is a success even if you don‘t hook up.”
He went back to fishing, and I watched him pull out another five or
six nice trout. There was something very caring about the way he
approached his favorite pastime. I thought about my hour with him on
the way home that day, and on numerous occasions since then. His
philosophy of catching trout the right way has never left me and I’ve
been trying to fool the fish on their own terms ever since. bj
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FLOAT
TUBES: THE GOOD, THE BAD, & THE UGLY
by V.
Paul Reynolds
Those shopworn cover
photos on the sporting catalogues of a fly fisherman in a float tube
somewhere out West never inspired me to buy one. "You'll never
get me fishing from an inner tube," I told myself. Over the
years, my boys and I wrestled many a canoe over rocks and blowdowns
to get to our favorite trout ponds. No float tubes for us. No sir.
Time passed. My oldest boy, who lived in Colorado and spent some
time fishing remote mountain ponds, returned to his beloved Maine
with a progressive outlook on float tubes. He saw them as useful, a
sensible device for accessing those hard-to-get-to trout ponds.
"Just try the tube once, Dad. You & you'll change your
tune," Scotty urged. So one fine day in early June, Scotty and
I, with float tubes attached to backpack frames - hiked 4 miles into
a comparatively remote trout pond in northern Maine.
I soon realized, as we got to the pond and made preparations to
"board" our fishing float tubes, that getting to the pond
was the easy part. You don't just step into a float tube and begin
casting to rising trout. Getting geared up for a morning of
"tube fishing" on a cold trout pond is a process:
insulated underwear must be donned, and then chest waders. One must
check for good tube inflation and then put on flippers or fins.
Jacques Cousteau stand aside! Then there is the
ever-critical launch. There is no graceful, dainty way to get man
and fly rod settled into a fishing float tube. If you can get the
tube "on" without getting wet, getting a flipper stuck in
a rock or snapping the tip off your fly rod, you are blessed. A
ballet dancer would look like a klutz. Grudgingly, I made it onto
the pond with no incidents, just in time for the morning rise.
THE
GOOD
My first hour bobbing
about and casting amid rising trout was better than I could have
imagined! Very comfortable and amazingly maneuverable these
glorified inner tubes. Trout working the surface behind you? No
problem: a twist of the left flipper and presto, you're lined up for
the cast. Want to get across the pond? Simply lean back and kick
those flippers and you are leaving a small wake. Hmmm. Does the
Maine Warden Service consider this trolling?
All in all, my first
float tube experience was encouraging and, except for a case of mild
hypothermia, I came away with a new appreciation for the tube's
potential as a useful tool for the diehard trout chaser. Hold on,
though. Before you run out and buy your very own float tube, you
need to have the rest of the story. That day of tube indoctrination
with my son was the good. Later float tube forays turned bad, and
then ugly.
THE
BAD
A few weeks later,
still in possession of the borrowed float tube, I elected to try
float tubing solo at a trout pond where I was not likely to have an
audience. Pulling into the trailhead, I parked the truck and
assembled all of the requisite tubing paraphernalia. An emergency
mini-compressor was used to perform my first-ever float tube
inflation. Arriving at the pond just as the evening rise was
underway, I once again managed an incident-free launch. Fish were
rising like crazy. Settling into the soft comfort of the tube, which
did seem a tad under-inflated, I tied on a No. 16 Adams and kicked
my way near the center of the pond, where the big ones rise just
before dark.
After a half hour of
my best Zen-like focus on fishing, I was stirred from my trance by
the unmistakable feel of cold water at my elbows. You got it. The
float tube had lost its customary robustness. In fact, in leaning
forward I discovered that air was escaping from an improperly
installed valve stem. Water was being trapped between the fabric
cover of the float tube and the rubber tube itself. Divers would
describe the condition as near- negative buoyancy (I was
sinking). After a lot of desperation-style fin kicks and a
sluggish pond crossing, I managed to salvage myself and the tube for
another day.
...AND
THE UGLY
"Another
day" came in mid-July out West, where float tubes are very de
rigueur for the fly fishing set. My wife and I wound up our Wyoming
dream trip this summer at a trout pond in the Shoshone National
Forest. This pond - at 9,000 feet - is cold. I mean to tell you
COLD. But lots of big rainbows had been rising nightly, just out of
reach of a shore caster. Wearing two sets of long johns and chest
waders, wife and I set out in our respective float tubes to seduce
2-pound rainbows.
No inflation problems
this time. A quick learner, I had pumped these tubes with enough air
to make the double-stitched liner creak for mercy. (I had also
pumped myself with lots of water to prevent dehydration at altitude)
That particular magnificent evening in the shadow of the Pinnacle
Mountain range, the pond boiled with feeding trout. We cast.
They sipped and slurped. We cast some more. They gulped and gorged.
We changed flys. They mocked us. Diane quit in frustration. I
pressed on. Despite the cold water and a nagging bladder, I
persevered. At a time like that, as every serious fly fisherman
knows, there is no giving up; at least, not until an artificial
offering is finally sampled by a reticent fish.
But, alas, it was not
to be. Soon the bladder situation grew acute, a preoccupation in
extremis... To shore! To shore! As I hurried shoreward, the
unexpected happened in full view of a small audience of other
anglers. Almost to shore, within casting range of a large shady
Lodgepole Pine, my flippers became stuck in the mud. And there this
fisherman stood inextricably mudbound, in barely two feet of water,
with one hand on his fly rod and the other holding up that silly
tube at waist level. There was just no way out; nowhere to go, so to
speak. Wife Diane, who witnessed my struggle and ignoble predicament
through her camera's long lens, mercifully took no pictures. She
said my expression was wrong and it just would not have made a good
cover photo for a Cabela's catalogue.
Float tubes? They
have their place, but I've yet to buy one. For my money, you really
can't beat a canoe as the trout fisherman's conveyance of choice. vpr
by V.
Paul Reynolds - The author is a Maine guide, co-host of
"Maine Outdoors" on WVOM-FM
and publisher of the
Northwoods
Sporting Journal
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A
1998 YELLOWSTONE TALE
After my most recent
trip to Yellowstone Park, in early July, I came away with an uneasy
feeling that this pristine wilderness that I had enjoyed so much
over the years was turning into an expensive adventure in defensive
driving. At the northeast entrance we gladly coughed up 80 hard
earned bucks that covered two season fishing licenses and a season
pass. Then we headed eagerly down the road towards Pebble Creek and
the Lamar Valley. To use the word "road" was a gross
overstatement. It was more like the Bob Bondurant School of
Defensive Driving. I was dodging potholes big enough to bury my
little Ranger pickup, and closing my eyes and hoping for salvation
every time one of those Class-1 Motor Palaces would pass me in the
opposite direction. It was kind of like being the next terrified
victim in a "Friday The 13th" movie.
If they're getting this much lettuce from each vehicle that enters
the park, why are we all put in such danger? I consider it a
blessing that most park visitors are still walking around after a
days drive through Yellowstone. It's that dangerous!
The truth is that Yellowstone, like many other national treasures,
doesn't get to keep most of the revenue they generate. Instead, it's
siphoned off to Washington and ends up God knows where. It seems to
me that the people who use Yellowstone, should expect that the fees
they pay will go towards maintaining the wilderness they treasure so
much, and in turn, the access roads, Ranger presence, and facilities
that are necessary.
If you want a new definition of terror, try crossing Dunraven pass
in the height of the motor home rush hour...WHAT A TRIP! Potholes
large enough to swallow a Harley, and narrow roads that beg for a
gruesome tragedy.
Camping fees have risen accordingly and, because of fistfights over
camp sights, disgruntled visitors, and crowded campsites, resident
camp hosts have been assigned to most campgrounds in the park to
enforce the rules and try to safeguard the parks' visitors. I think
the camp host idea is a good one, considering the present situation,
but I miss the time that camping in Yellowstone meant being pretty
much "on your own".
What can we do to improve the situation? That's a good question.
Given the glut of Yellowstone revenues, the continuing degradation
of the Yellowstone experience, and the increasing cost to the user,
I am concerned that our beloved Yellowstone does not turn into the
Yosemite of the Rockies. We're not getting what we keep paying for!
What do you think? bj
Update...Summer
of 2000
Great
news! A portion of the northeast entrance road has been
re-surfaced from the entrance at Silvergate to Roosevelt Lodge. Even though there were substantial delays during
the construction period, it's great to be driving on a smooth,
wider, and much safer highway! Kudos to the park for making
this much-appreciated and life-saving improvement. bj
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WAITING
FOR THE RUNOFF TO END
From mid-May until late June most Rocky
Mountain rivers and streams experience dramatic increases in flow, and
clarity. We call it the runoff and it’s caused by melting snow in
the high country. Although spring rains can influence the size and
duration of the runoff period dramatically, temperature is the main
controlling factor.
The runoff usually begins in early May when
the first real heat wave causes temperatures to hit 20 to 30 degrees
above normal. Streams may rise and discolor slightly during the first
few warmer days and then retreat to former levels when temperatures
return to normal. When the thermometer finally breaks into the 60’s
and 70’s for good, rivers can become high, muddy and un-fishable
almost overnight.
So what is a dedicated fly fisher to do when
the water is high and he just can’t contain his urge to wet a line
any longer? How about some prime trout angling in still waters? Lower
foothill lakes can be tremendously productive just after ice-out.
Trout are hungry and energized by rising water temperatures, the
emergence of a variety of aquatic insects, and warm sunshine.
If your fishing time is most often spent
casting moderate to swift currents and pocket fishing behind big
boulders in your favorite stream, fly fishing the flat water can be a
bit intimidating. Begin perusing the lake looking for signs of feeding
trout and areas where the shallows drop into deeper water. You can
locate these potential feeding zones easily by looking for areas where
the color of the bottom turns from light to dark. If you see trout
rising, try to watch them long enough to determine their cruising
pattern. Since the water is devoid of current, trout will usually set
up a slow circular feeding route that takes them from the safety of
the deeper water into the shallows to pick up hatching insects or
nymphs near the bottom.
Knowing a little about the entomology of the
particular lake you’re going to fish will help you identify, or at
least give you some sense of what insects the trout may be taking.
Observing insects on the surface and matching their size, shape, and
color is the best way. If you can catch one and make a closer
inspection, you’ll really have a leg up on getting your fly to match
the naturals on the water. You can increase your chances by deciding
where the most likely places will be to present your fly. Also, take
note of the time it takes for the fish to complete one cruising cycle.
There is no sense wasting casts and disturbing the surface if the fish
are not present to grab your bug.
Stealth is the final ingredient to successful
still water fishing. Don’t wade right out where you see the fish.
They will scatter leaving you very much alone. Instead, look for a
place to stand that will conceal your presence as much as possible
while allowing you to make soft delicate casts onto the feeding zone.
Stay low and move slowly into position before making your first cast.
The important difference between stream
fishing and lake fishing is obviously moving water versus still water.
This simple fact should tell you that trout in a calm, clear lake will
get a much better look at you, your fly, and your presentation than
trout in a fast-moving stream. You can adjust by going to lighter
tippet material (5x-7x), and tying longer tippets (3‘-5’). If you
have a lightweight rod and reel, this might be just the time to use
it. In calm wind conditions, three to five weight line with matching
rod and reel can be wonderful, especially if you tie into a few bigger
trout. bj
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RELEASE
'EM, OR KILL 'EM?
How you answer that
question will make a difference in the future of wild trout
populations no matter where you fish. I'm always amused by the
"meat fisherman" that I know. I still can't figure out
what mystical power a full cooler of dead trout represents to these
macho-meatballs of our angling society.
I'm going to conduct a study one of these years to determine if my
suspicions are true. We'll gather data and correlate information
with questions like "How many of those dead fish you took home
really got eaten?" and "How many are entombed in your
freezer two feet under the rancid deer meat you gutshot four years
ago?" My report would look great in a fancy binder with lots of
color charts and graphs. I'd really like to know because I contend,
even without doing my homework on this subject yet, that most of the
fish caught, killed, and taken home for the dinner table never get
there and end up forgotten in the freezer or fodder for the land fill.
The "meat-heads" want me to believe that eating trout is
the only reason they would ever think of hooking one and bonking it on the head.
Sorry, I'm just not buying it. The other argument that I seem to
hear a lot, along with the "we always eat everything we
catch" myth, is the one about us catch-and-release do-gooders
that watch our fish swim away only to expire later from the injuries
and trauma inflicted upon them while being caught and released.
I know, I know, we've all seen it happen. Some goofball lucks out
and snags a trout with a two-pound mepps on thirty-pound mono,
drags it to shore, rips the lure out and the face off, and overhands
the mortally wounded trout thirty yards upstream. I don't hesitate to have words
with this kind of moron and you shouldn't either, but I know that a
very high percentage of fish that are caught on small barbless
hooks, played quickly, brought to hand, and carefully released, will
certainly live to give someone else the same excitement again and
maybe in the process help to re-populate the stream.
There's that smirk on your face. Don't look at me in that tone of
voice! Don't go assuming that I'm some bleeding heart trout-hugger.
That's just not true. I certainly wouldn't expect anyone to feel
they couldn't enjoy a tasty trout dinner just because they went
fishing with me.
There's a line that's easily crossed between what is reasonable and
what is a negligent waste. It is a personal decision, kind of a
religious thing (the "meat-heads" really love that one). I
don't feel I'm any better than anyone else, more noble, or caring,
or sensitive, simply because I choose to release 'em. I just don't
need to kill 'em.
So now, lets talk about all those big shiny rifles you've got
that'll disintegrate a Lincoln at two hundred yards! bj
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WINTER
1996-97, A PROFOUND SADNESS
OVER 1,300 NATIVE AMERICAN BISON SLAUGHTERED
Can anyone save the
Yellowstone Bison? I swear, sometimes I'm not proud to be an
American, a Montanan, or a human being. Doesn't anyone in the most
powerful and wealthy nation on earth have any sense of
responsibility, or any sense at all? Have we learned nothing about
protecting the wild creatures that share our Earth? Are we just
plain idiots? I think so.
A prominent native American Indian spoke to the Montana Legislature
recently. In his "State of the Indian Nations" speech he
asked that the Indian people be given the chance to save the Bison.
His words echoed the terror and shame visited on our beloved Montana
territory over a hundred years ago by rampaging, so-called, Indian
fighters and bloodthirsty egomaniacs who legally slaughtered
innocent native Americans and indiscriminately butchered the
Buffalo, ending a way of life that had existed for thousands of
years. But what did we learn?
How is it that anyone, including our Governor and our President
cannot see that this wholesale slaughter must end NOW AND FOREVER.
There are no possible excuses. Ranchers contend that the Bison will
infect their cattle with Brucellosis (a problem most assuredly, but
one we could deal with). Politicians say it's not their fault
(unfortunately this isn't the only problem with the government),
just a problem deciding who has jurisdiction over the situation.
Meanwhile, the butchery continues.
And what have the Buffalo done to deserve this brutal destruction?
Only try to survive, using the range land and winter migration
routes they've used for millions of years. We should teach them to
recognize human borders around the park, I guess, or maybe just kill
them all and be done with it. Haven't we learned anything about our
precious natural world? Didn't the reintroduction of wolves in
Yellowstone teach us more than just the fact that we could do it and
make it work?
Those of us who stop to consider these things and shed a tear for
these magnificent animals have been overcome with outrage. Our
grandchildren will probably see a picture of a Buffalo in a textbook
and wonder why we were so irresponsible, so vain, and so stupid.
Stop the killing, now, before it's too late! bj
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"ANYONE
WHO HAS ENJOYED A DAY FISHING FOR WILD TROUT ALONG
A MOUNTAIN STREAM HAS A STAKE IN THE FUTURE OF THE ENVIRONMENT"
It's nothing new that
environmental issues constantly struggle for parity with economic
concerns. I have always been amazed that the monetarily obsessed,
power mongers, and politicians just can't come to grips with the
simple fact that without a stable and cared-for environment, our
economic system is doomed.
Fortunately, there is a groundswell of actively concerned
individuals and organizations who believe these issues are worth
fighting for. Government keeps reminding us that cleaning up what we've already
destroyed will cost us dearly. The implication is that the money
could be better spent in other areas. I disagree.
Take a look at our history of gross over-spending. We waste billions
on a tax system that only serves itself. Our track record in the
areas of welfare and entitlement programs is miserable. And it is
clear to me that we need a major overhaul in the way we elect,
compensate, and benefit persons in public life. With only minor
modifications in the way we spend to govern ourselves, we could have
major positive impact on the environment.
I urge you to get involved. Sign up as a member of Trout Unlimited.
Join a local environmental action organization and express your
concerns. Write to your elected representatives often and keep the
focus on the things that really matter. How would you like it if
your grandchildren had no opportunity to enjoy the wild fish we love
and cherish? bj
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