Reflections from a year on my home waters

I've learned a lot about myself throughout 2010.  The lessons were revealed to me in a number of different contexts.  A lot of people stood by me when they really had no reason to do so.  God carried me through some things that I couldn't manage on my own.  I alternated between useful and useless; good and not so good; and turmoil and contentment.  I'm sure it must just sound like life to most "normal" people, but for someone like me it's been a year of enlightenment.

In any event, one thing is certain:  my moments of sanity and serenity more often than not came from being knee-deep in water; specifically, the Cache La Poudre River.

I don't keep a detailed count of my days flinging flies into the current in search of rainbows and browns, but it's safe to say that I spent more time wading the stream than a crazy man should!  As a result, I learned a lot about fly fishing this year as well:  sometimes through trial and error; sometimes through intuition; sometimes through remembering something I'd studied or read; and quite often simply because of dumb luck.

Some of the more memorable reflections from 2010:

1)  I learned how to tie a decent caddis, and that's something absolutely critical to fishing the lower Poudre during the summer months.  My journal notes - as well as some earlier posts to this blog - lead me to believe that having an entire box full of caddis flies, ranging from sizes 16-22, will draw the attention of most rainbows and cutthroats in the lower Poudre.  The browns didn't seem nearly so inclined to go after them, and while I have several theories as to why, I'm not confident enough in those theories to actually put them in writing.

2)  I picked up a handy tip about "streamside surgery" from a fellow angler who runs a great blog.  Buried hooks, and day-ending trips to the doctor, can be remedied by carrying some wire cutters, disinfectant wipes, and super glue in your vest or chest pack.

3)  I learned that sometimes size matters, and sometimes it doesn't.  And before I go any further, let me offer the caveat that I'm referring entirely to fishing in making that assertion (I'll leave it to Cosmopolitan or Maxim to answer that eternal question in its more commonly-referenced context).  In fly fishing, I'm convinced that the size of a bug can make a world of difference between getting skunked and landing big numbers.  In that sense, size indeed matters.  Having said that, one of the most enjoyable days of fishing I've ever had was on the South Fork of the Poudre.  I was fishing a small stream catching little brook trout, none of which exceeded 10-11 inches.  Maybe it was the company, maybe it was the scenery...who knows?  But it was a blast, and size didn't matter.     

4)  I used to be convinced that trout tend to generally stay in certain areas.  I can't say that anymore.  In fact, I'm now fairly certain that they move as the landscape of a river changes.  In late March and early April, I caught dozens of really nice trout in a deep pool during a time when the water level on most of the river was very low.  After the spring runoff, the hole became unfishable, as I knew it would.  In October and November, the water in the same spot dropped back down to a level comparable to that from March and April, and I started salivating at the prospect of once again nailing some big fish.  In several late season sessions, however, I failed to land a single trout in that stretch of water.  The lesson for me here is that fly fishing requires a constant study and re-evaluation of the water (and the insect life, I'm sure).

5)  Finally, I learned some valuable lessons about what one wise fly fisherman refers to as "streamcraft," including river etiquette and careful handling of fish.  On the former, I've always made an effort to be a gentleman on the river, trying to share a valuable resource with others while respecting their desire for solitude and enjoyment.  On the latter, I learned - simply by reading the insights of more experienced fisherman - that I've likely done some unnecessary damage to fish by handling them way too much, often due to an unintended vanity that comes with holding a fish for a picture.  I still take pictures of a lot of the trout I catch, but I generally try to simply snap a quick shot while they're still in the net or water, and I do my best to let them pop the fly out on their own.

So there you have it.  Mundane observations, I suppose, but part of my journey.  I won't bother making any fishing resolutions for the coming year.  I have no idea where life will take me this year.  The only resolution I can make is the one that's already a given:  the Poudre's in my backyard, and I'll be knee-deep in its waters again as soon as possible.

Happy New Year!

27 in 27, Days 24-25: Red Copper John, Czech Nymp

No mas!

I did the best I could, but a lack of materials and a waning motivation left me at 25 flies in 27 days.  I'll try for the consolation prize tomorrow morning (maybe), but here's the fnal two:

Red Copper John

Czech Nymph

It's been fun.  Ran out of time.  Should have gone heavier on some midges.

Thanks for checking it out.  I'll write up some "lessons learned" after the holidays.

I hope everyone has the most blessed of Christmases and a wonderful, fantastic new year.

27 in 27, Days 22-23: The Yellow Sallie, and the Elk Hair Caddis

Well, here we are at day 27.  My holiday boxes for my favorite fly fishing companions are essentially finished and wrapped.  Visions of rainbows and browns are dancing through my head; then again, that's nothing really unique to Christmas Eve - more like a daily occurence.

By my count, I've got three unique flies to tie tonight in order to follow through and get it done by the midnight transition from Christmas Eve to Christmas Day, which really leaves me no time to engage in any witty banter or offer any stories.  I'll just warn you in advance, the last three flies for the day could be uglier than normal, although I'm committed to doing my best work and finish strong.  Not sure what they'll be yet.

The yellow sallie is far too heavy on  the thorax, I realize.  Which I blame on the only roll of yellow thread I have; a thick, waxy thread that adds a lot of body with an undercoating of red thread for the hotspot near the tail.  Wings look good, though, I think.

Next is simply and elk-hair caddis with a hi-vis spot of white antron.  I'm keepin' this one for mself.  I think it will be a great lead fly with a small dry trailing behind, and I really liked the way it turned out.  I'm also going to tie a couple for my older brother Chris, who has the tools for catching fish but suffers from some aging eyes and has a hard time with some of the smaller bugs on the river.  I think the white hot spot will help in that respect.

Three left to go.  T-minus 2.5 hours and counting.  Wish me luck.
JEG

27 in 27, Day 21: Flashback Pheasant Tail

Dark green + a little flash = a feeding frenzy and a mangled paw (pun intended, Dad).

It was a winning combination for a few brief moments on the Poudre earlier in the summer.  Doc was a bit skeptical at first, but when he started hooking up with big fat rainbows on virtually every drift, he became a convert.

Doc's a died-in-the-wool dry fly guy, and he'd much sooner float visible dries along the surface than drag nymphs underwater.  I think nymphing kind of bores him.  When I convinced him to submerge this bug and watch an indicator, he came around after a monstrous trout started zipping his line out, running full steam upstream in a violent streak.  The monster managed to spit the fly, enough to cause both of us to throw our heads back in one of those "doggone it" moments that all fly flingers go through from time to time.

The events shortly thereafter became comical, in retrospect.  Doc briefly got his revenge, landing another nice rainbow on the flashback PT, only to immediately have it lodged in his hand by the angry trout.

Hook:  Tier's choice.  I like them in the 16-20 range
Thread:  Dark olive
Bead:  Gold
Thorax/abdomen/tail:  Forest green pheasant tail fibers
Wing casing:  Scud backing or clear tinsel
Rib:  Dark green ultra wire (small)

27 in 27, Days 18-20: Platte River Special, Pale Morning Dun, BWO

Oy Vey!

I think that's an expression commonly used to convey exasperation or stress.  I'm not really feeling either at this point, but I've fallen behind in this 27 in 27 thing, at least in terms of posting the results.

The rookie's tying obsession continues unabated, however, and tonight I'll play a little catch up and post not only the three flies to correspond with the past three days, but also post some pictures of tangible results of today's flies - at least two of them.

The Platte River Special was a request from Doc.  I tried to oblige.  He's caught trout on them.  I haven't.  I'm not much with a streamer yet.  I've tried ripping a few, but I'm not sure I have a clue on the technique.  It's not really a complicated fly - just takes a big hook - but mine are ugly, as usual.  Doc must be rolling his eyes at this one:

A year ago, I'd have told you I was a nympher.  Can't say that today.  March/April 2010 converted me to dries.  A skinny stretch of water flowing into a deep hole under a rural bridge COMPLETELY changed my mind. 

On a day in late March, 2010, I reached frantically for my cell phone.  "Doc, you gotta get down here!  They're going nuts on this little BWO!"  Ten minutes later, Doc's standing on the bank behind me in street clothes.  His approach was stealthy, or else I was just too busy landing uncharacteristically big trout on a stretch of water we'd fished before.

Moments earlier, a guy named Bob was about 20 yards upstream from me.  Bob had been hooking up on virtually every cast for the past hour, and he wasn't landing normal 12 inch Poudre rainbows.  Bob was nailing big fish.  I wouldn't call them "pigs" (is that the term?), but they qualified at least as "piglets."  Bob was a true gentleman fly fisher.  I'd arrived at the river just behind him, wandered down to the spot we were now completely killing, and he'd invited me to join him.  "Come on in, friend," Bob called out.  "You got a little BWO?"

I had some BWOs, but they were too big.  "Go smaller," Bob advised.  "20."

I tied on a 20.

Bingo.

Bob left, with a friendly "have fun."  Cool guy.  Really cool guy.  Hope he shows up on the Poudre sometime again.

With Bob gone, I had a stretch of the Poudre to myself for an afternoon of what I can only describe as world-class dry fly fishing.  Doc arrived without his rod or boots.  He's caught enough trout over the years to simply enjoy watching.  As he wandered down the city-supplied bike path, I was playing one of the biggest trout I've caught on the Poudre.  Doc showed up just in time to snap a sweet photo of the fish, and an unflattering photo of his son, without so much as a curse word for having left his gear at his house.  That's Doc.  Just loving the moment, as always.

Anyway, I caught it on what I believe to be one of the two absolute key dry flies on the Poudre, the BWO.  Basic knowledge for anyone who's fished the Poudre, I guess.  BWO and Caddis hatches are common on my home waters.  Here's my version.  The pros over at St. Pete's tie it with CDC for the wings - and they flat out work - but I don't have the patience or skill for the oily little CDC fibers yet.

 


















Today's last fly, in my opinion, is a dry fly fisherman's dream - the Pale Morning Dun.  It's so easy to keep track of on the water it almost makes dry fly fishing easy.  It's a big white target.  If you're awake, you'll see it floating  in whitewater.  And damn, I caught a beauty with it:

Hands down, prettiest fish I've ever caught.  You gotta have one of these in your box if you're fishing the Poudre.

Way too much info. from an amateur fly tier.  Goes to show you how fun this obsession of ours can be!

27 in 27, Day Seventeen: Zebra Midge (or, that's my story and I'm sticking to it)

The bead and rib are technically the wrong colors, but silver beads and wires are in short supply here at Flywriter HQ. 

I'll call it a zebra midge that has been slightly discolored.  Alternatively, I'll call it a "zebra midge from the island of misfit toys." 

27 in 27, Day Sixteen: Parachute BWO

Cut me some slack.  It's the first parachute pattern I've tried, and I'm pretty sure the chute is malfunctioning on this one. 

Regardless of how ugly it may look up close, I'm banking on it for big results on the Poudre come late March/early April. 

I tried!

27 in 27, Day Fifteen: The Prince Nymph

When I'm not fishing dries, this is my favorite fly, hands down.  Nymphing the Poudre, I've found that you can't go wrong with this one.  I like to tie in some red wire for the ribbing.  No particular reason, other than that it seems to be really productive.

 

Hook:  Size 18
Bead:  Tier's choice
Hackle:  Brown saddle
Abdomen/thorax:  Peacock hearl
Rib:  Tier's choice (I like red, traditional gold)
Wings and tail:  Goose biots (tier's choice)

27 in 27, Day Fourteen: Stone fly Interpretation

This one's my interpretation of a big stone fly.  It's particularly good during high water on the Poudre, with enough size and weight to attract attention and drag along the bottom.  I don't have a name for it.  It's a big, ugly fly with rubber legs in place of the traditional goose biots.  It looks "buggy" to me.

I also played around with some parachute BWOs, but I'm not happy enough with any of them to post a picture yet. 

Here's Day Fourteen's entry:

Hook:  Size 14
Bead:  Tungsten (gold would also work nicely)
Tail:  Brown goose biots
Thorax/abdomen:  Peacock hearl
Ribbing:  Gold Wire
Legs:  Dark Green rubber

27 in 27, Day Thirteen: The RS2

Having felt just a pang of guilt about yesterday's feeble entry (the San Juan Worm), I decided to tackle the RS2 for today's 27 in 27 installment.  It's actually not a terribly complex fly, except for the fact that I have trouble with the fluorofiber split tail.

I'll take the result.  I think I got it looking OK.  The tutorial from the Hopper Juan helped a great deal.  Whether or not I can pull it off consistently remains to be seen, but my target for the night is five to help fill a holiday gift box I've been working on.

Hook:  Size 18
Collar/abdomen:  Charcoal thread covered with dark hare's ear dubbing
Wing:  White antron
Tail:  White sparkle fluorofiber

27 in 27, Day Twelve: The San Juan Worm

I know what you're thinking.  It's pretty much cheating on my part.  Today's "fly" is the San Juan Worm.

I'm tired, it's past my bedtime, and I just struggled through several attempts at a Czech Nymph, which I will successfully master at some later point in this experiment.  Rather than spend the night cursing, I decided to tie a few of these bugs:

 
















The San Juan Worm seems to be controversial in the fly fishing community, alternatively viewed as either a pariah (much like an egg pattern) or a productive bug that gets results.  For me, it's the latter.  I've done particularly well with this bug during the summer as the runoff on the Poudre becomes manageable.  In fact, it drew the attention of what was probably the biggest rainbow I've ever caught on the Poudre. 

Is it a fly?  I guess not.  Still, from my perspective, it's made from artificial material and tied with thread, and mimics part of the aquatic life of my home waters.  I'd be an idiot not to have a few on hand. 

Hook:  Size 16 nymph hook
Thread:  Red
Body:  Red Chenile with tier's choice of bead

27 in 27, Day Eleven: Oh Hairy Boy (a Flywriter Original)

OK, so I probably need a better name for it than "Oh Hairy Boy."  Frankly, I'm not sure what to call it, so I could use some suggestions.  Today's fly is an attempt to keep a special memory alive, and replicate a bug that caused a bunch of little brookies to go absolutely bananas. 

About three months ago, I had an epic day catching Brook Trout on the South Fork of the Poudre up near Sky Ranch, a Lutheran camp where my folks took me to camp when I was a kid.  All things considered - environment, contentment, company, and numbers of fish in a short timeframe - it was probably the second-best day of fishing I had over the summer.

Let me digress for a moment.  I say "second-best" while fully keeping in mind all of the "bests" that I've had with Doc over the past two years.  Doc and I have shared so many wonderful days on the water that I've kind of lumped them all into one huge day.  Still, I had one day of fishing with Doc that nothing could ever compare to, simply because we both caught huge trout and because I was able to laugh my ass off when Doc impaled his trigger finger with a pheasant tail nymph.  That was truly funny.  Doc's hands are giant.  He can pick up a basketball like you and I can pick up a grapefruit.  I had to crack a smile watching him try to shake a size 18 pheasant tail nymph out of his meaty paw.

When he finally conceded that the hook was buried in his hand, I remember wanting to gnaw the buried hook out with my teeth rather than leave the huge trout that we were catching.  To no avail.  Doc's sense of adventure was overwhelmed by his desire to avoid an infection from a hook that had just been in a trout's mouth. That gory spectacle aside, there's just nothing better for me than fishing with Doc.  My Dad and I simply breathe the same air when we're on the river.  I guess it's just me having followed his lead for all these years.  We rarely need words to communicate perfectly.  When we're in a spot to actually talk to each other, it's usually either Doc telling me to straighten out my back cast (he still doesn't like my sidearm) or me telling him to sink his nymph with a little split-shot.  Otherwise, we communicate non-verbally, and it just works.  Doc has some minor hearing difficulties, exacerbated by his reluctance to wear a hearing aid on the river where it could be an expensive casualty during a wading misstep, yet the two of us can carry on complex conversations hundreds of yards apart with sign language and facial expressions when we're on the river.  When he looks at me and subtly raises his eyebrows, that means "big fish on!"  (or, alternatively, "get your ass down here with the net").  When I smile at him as my fly rod bends down, it means "see, my sidearm cast ain't so bad."

Setting aside all the "battle days" on the Poudre where Doc and I try to outdo each other, with his elegant, flowing dry-fly casts eclipsing my workmanlike nymphing, my day this past July on the South Fork near Sky Ranch was pretty special.  I was fishing with my brother-in-law Matt, who is so busy with career, family, and personal issues that he rarely gets to put a line in the water.  He's an absolutely wonderful guy - I wish I was more like him - who takes such great care of my sister and my nephews.  And like most things he tries to do, he's a natural with a fly rod.  With some more time on the water, he'd be an expert.  He needs a better teacher than me! 

Matt and I had just finished waiting out a ridiculous lightning storm, complete with hail that actually hurt when it hit our uncovered heads.  The clouds lifted and the fish started rising to dries as if they were candy floating down the stream.  The South Fork is a Colorado treasure, winding through a gorgeous meadow for an eternity.  You never know when you'll run into a Moose, a Bear, or see a Bald Eagle.  It's wild country.  You can wade the stream for miles without seeing another soul, and it's chock full of wild brookies like this one:

On that day, I was fishing a dry/dropper rig, and the small brookies kept ignoring the small dropper in favor of a big, hairy para-caddis that I thought would basically serve as an indicator.  After a few fish hit the big caddis, I initially switched to a double dry rig with a small caddis serving as the trailer.  The little brookies kept going after the big monster indicator, so I just clipped the trailer off and fished the big para-caddis.  In the hour and a half that Matt and I spent on the stream before heading back to our families at camp, I landed over a dozen wild, feisty brookies.

For today's fly, I was trying to remember what the big para-caddis looked like, and this is the best that I could come up with, from memory.  It's big, fat, and hairy...and I like it.  I guess you could call it my first original pattern, although that would be generous, as it's more like a memory wrapped in a passing thought wrapped in a "what I have on my tying table" creation.  The good things is, it'll float and it's easy to see.   

Hook:  3XL Streamer/Nymph, Size 14
Legs:  Some kind of green rubber - it came in a strip that looked like a fan belt
Thread:  Iron Gray
Collar/Wing:  Elk Hair, White Antron

27 in 27, Day Ten: The Best Damn Scud Pattern, Period (tied by one of the worst damn scud tiers, period!)

I can honestly say I've fished a scud pattern once, on a lark.  It was a slow day on the Poudre, and I scraped up some rocks from the bottom of the stream and found a small, gelatinous, squirming thing in my hand.  Knowing what I know now, it was a surely just a fat aquatic worm, and I'd have been better off tying on an annelid or a San Juan Worm to match it.  At the time, however, I looked in my flybox in an effort to find something that looked like what I had in my hand.  In the box, I noticed something that looked like a shrimp - I think it was covered in something like epoxy.  Or hell, maybe super glue.  I tied it on, and promptly caught...nothing.

Nonetheless, I'm broadening my horizons here, and out of respect for an obviously skilled angler who flat out consistently catches hog trout and has a flair for writing hilarious fly flishing prose (he occasionally refers to himself as Alpha Male, a label I like to apply to myself on rare occasions), I decided to mimic his scud. He calls it the "Best Damn Scud Pattern, Period."  I followed the tutorial on the pattern, and I think I stuck to the recipe pretty closely.  And yeah, I realize I went overboard on the tail fibers - I just don't have the energy to clip it, take another photo, and upload it.  Otherwise, I hope I did it justice, or at the very least haven't embarrassed the man behind the scud.  If the latter, I take full responsibility, and encourage the reader to view the links to the original recipe.  While you're there, you'll read some great stories and see pictures of some of the best trout in Colorado.

Here's the Best Damn Scud Pattern, Period!  You'll just have to trust me.

Hook:  Size 16 Light Wire Scud
Tail:  Pheasant Tail fibers
Thread:  Does it matter?
Thorax/abdomen:  Gold Ice Dubbing
Rib:  Red Ultra Wire (small)

27 in 27, Day Nine: The Lazy Boy Emerger

Courtesy of the Midge Man over at Poudre Canyon Chronicles, this fly works nicely for me as a hack flytier who has yet to master the split tail of the RS2.  In keeping with the "use what you have on hand" theme, the tail is comprised of flourofiber with some color in it.  The gold ice dubbing comes out a bit hairy, but I'm assuming that won't matter much under water.  I had some decent luck on the Poudre with this one as a trailing fly behind a big caddis.   

I'll try my hand at an RS2 later, but I filled a row in the flybox with this one tonight. 

Hook:  Size 20
Thorax/body:  Charcoal thread covered in Gold Ice Dubbing
Wing:  White antron
Tail:  Dark sparkle flourofiber

27 in 27, Day Eight: Blue Poison Tung

I don't know much, but of two things I am reasonably certain:  1) there is a God, and I'm not him; and 2) some guys and gals like tying microscopic midges, and I ain't one of them.

Since I'm certain that some - if not all - of the components of this valiant effort of mine stray from the original recipe, I'm almost wanting to name the fly pictured here the "Patience Tester."  After a few attempts at this size 22 bug, I at least finally figured out an easier way to get the bead head on by holding the eye of the hook in a pair of needlenose pliers and then lowering the business end of the hook into the hole in the bead.  Still, the little hooks gave me fits.  On at least three occasions I had to start over after snapping the thread on the barb as I wrapped it around the shank.  When I read about folks who tie bugs down in the 30 range, I shake my head in amazement with a new found respect for midge tiers.

I give you the Blue Poison Tung (once again...sort of)

Hook:  Size 22
Head:  Small tungsten bead
Thorax:  White ice dubbing
Body:  Gray thread, small blue micro-wire

27 in 27, Day Seven: The Poison Tung

You'll recall that when I started this project, one of my objectives was to broaden my horizons - both on the water and at the vise - and start building an inventory beyond my typical go-to flies (BWOs, Caddis, PMDs, PTs, and Princes).  This broadening will cover both ends of the size spectrum, from small midges to large streamers and maybe even a hopper or two.  I've not yet made any serious efforts on any of the above.

To start, I'll be tackling some midges for a few days.  Yesterday, I tied a simple Brassie.  Today's fly, a variation (as always) of Charlie Craven's Poison Tung, was literally a physical challenge for me.  I used a size 22 hook, which is small for my big, clumsy fingers.  I had difficulty getting the midge tubing connected to the bend in the hook, and had even more difficulty getting the maddeningly small bead head onto the hook. 

It's far from a perfect replica, I'm sure.  You'll have to forgive the constant "variations."  It's largely a function of me trying to make do with the materials that I have on hand rather than making constant trips to the fly shop for new materials I can't really afford at present. 

My first attempt at the Poison Tung:

Hook:  Size 22
Head:  Small tungsten bead
Thorax:  Hair's Ear dubbing
Body:  Black midge tubing
Thread:  Charcoal micro

27 in 27, Day Six: The Brassie

As with all my fly patterns in this experiment, I offer the caveat of "sort of."  I think I'm safe in calling this one a Brassie, as it contains all the necessary components (thread, wire, dubbing) in colors I chose.  From all the reading I've done, it appears that tiers tend to fall into one of two schools of thought on color choice:  1) those who think it's of critical importance in imitating the aquatic life of a given river; and 2) those who see color as far less important than matching the general appearance of that aquatic life.  For the sake of this post, I'll conveniently lump myself in with the latter (at least for now). 

Thus, the Flywriter's version of the Brassie:

Hook:  Size 20
Thorax:  Olive dubbing
Thread:  Olive
Body:  Hot yellow Ultra Wire, small

The midge theme continues tomorrow with my first attempt at a classic (or a variation thereof), Craven's Poison Tung.

27 in 27, Day Five: The Adams

This little bug - tied here in a size 22 - is one of my go to dry flies on the Poudre, particularly in the early spring, when small BWO and PMD hatches dominate the aquatic life on the surface.  Considered one of the universal classic dry flies, I've found the Adams to be an effective both in its own right and as an alternative to either the BWO or PMD, particularly when those hatches are so prevalent that a slightly different looking bug seems to draw the attention of actively feeding trout.  Of course, who knows?  Maybe it's just been dumb luck for me.

Hook:  Size 22
Wings:  Grizzly hackle tips
Hackle:  Grizzly
Body/Thorax:  Hair's ear dubbing
Tail:  Grizzly hackle tip

27 in 27, Day Four: The Royal Humpy

Day Four was a challenge.  Four days into the 27 in 27 experiment, I've tried to answer the first part of Key Question #3.  I'm not sure if I managed, so I'll leave the ultimate answer up to you, the reader.  But I'm reasonably happy with it.

 
















Tying a good quality Royal Humpy isn't easy to begin with, and for a rookie like me, it's even harder on a size 20 hook.   I'll take it.

Hook:  Size 20
Tail:  Golden Pheasant Tippets
Body:  Red floss
Hackle:  Grizzly, with white Antron
Wing case:  Elk Hair

27 in 27, Day Three: GO2 Prince

I've read so much about this fly on the Poudre that I had to try and create something approximating Tak's GO2 Prince.  Here's the first effort.  I'll have to return to this one to refine it (my tying, that is - not the pattern)

Hook:  Size 16
Head:  Diamond bead
Body:  Peacock hearl, gold wire rib
Wing:  White antron
Tail:  Pheasant tail fibers

27 in 27, Day Two: Big Hairy Gold Stonefly Nymph

Day Two complete, inauspiciously and a day ahead of time!  OK, so it might be 28 in 27.  It's a gold stonefly nymph, sort of.  It's heavy on the peacock hearl. 

It's big and hairy and ugly, and I love it!  I'm also confident that the dumb cutthroats on the Poudre will see it as a delicacy, not to be passed over.  So there!   

Hook:  Size 16
Thorax:  Peacock hearl
Legs, wings (?), and tail:  Brown goose biots
Body:  Gold wire

27 in 27, Day One: Pheasant Tail Nymph

Day One completed.  Obviously a variation on Sawyer's original.  It's a fat one, I'll admit.  Hope it captures the essence, however. 

Hook:  Size 18
Thread:  Micro Olive
Thorax:  Blue/green peacock hearl
Tail/Body:  Pheasant Tail

An Amateur Tier's Holiday Experiment

27 flies in 27 days.  

I know, I know...it's nothing monumental.  Nothing in my life is right now.  But since I have a lot of hooks and way too much time, I'm conducting an experiment.  The experiment contains a couple of interesting variables and will hopefully answer a few key questions:

1)  Can The Flywriter truly master a few go-to flies that have served him well on the Poudre?
2)  Can The Flywriter branch out in new directions and tackle some midges and streamers?
3)  Can The Flywriter not only tie one professional-looking Royal Humpy, but can he tie more than one in a reasonable amount of time?
4)  Can The Flywriter create reasonable replicas, or at least reasonable variations, of patterns developed by the masters?
5)  Will anybody even notice?

The answer to question #5 will be interesting and entertaining.  The answer will largely depend on the readership of this blog, which has been up and running for well over a year now.  So far, by my count, I have one very loyal follower, a few master fly fishermen and tiers who occasionally send a word of encouragement, and somebody in Russia who occasionally pops in for a view.

Why 27 days?  The experiment ends on Christmas Eve, when I will wrap up a few holiday boxes I'm putting together for folks who are special to me and are perfectly willing to fish with flies that fall well short of perfection.  Then again, the price falls well short of expensive! 

The experiment will be hilarious to many of you.  It's modeled very loosely on a concept conceived by someone with far more talent than me.  All I have to do is tie a different fly every day for less than a month.  This guy creates works of art every day of the year, and they're really cool.  In any event, I hope to develop my tying skills and maybe even impress a few people, but I'll settle for a few good-natured laughs from the wisemen in flyfishing blogdom.

The fun starts today!  Come along for the ride.

Family Fun

Another rough day on the Poudre yesterday, despite the gorgeous weather and my declaration of war on the fish.  Another day, another skunking.  Starting to get a complex.

Our pre-Halloween festivities compensated for the lack of fishing productivity.  I decided to honor Halloween with a well-constructed scarecrow, and the rest of the clan put their artistic abilities into play during our annual jack-o-lantern contest.

Maybe he'll have better luck than I have lately.

Happy Halloween from the Flywriter.

What's That Smell???

Something stinks here at Flywriter Headquarters.

It's a slightly familiar stench - I swear I've smelled it before, but I can't quite put a finger on it.

Wait...could it be...?  Yeah, it's THAT stench!














The animal pictured above is symbolic, of course, and really doesn't deserve such an unfair, slanderous commentary on my part.  He's really just the namesake for the most offensive, embarrassing, and dreaded catch phrase a fisherman can hear:  the "skunking."

Unfortunately, I received one today, the first in many, many days on the water in 2010.  Today's skunking was so incredibly thorough that I began to wonder if I really know anything about what I'm doing when it comes to fly fishing.  Not only did I not catch a single trout, I'm fairly certain that not a single fish so much as sniffed one of my budget-conscious flies.  While I could come up with a litany of excuses - the water was too high (it wasn't); the water was too murky (just slightly); the sun was too bright; the barometric pressure was radically different; the river gets too much fishing pressure - none of them would be plausible to even the most naive among us.  More likely "operator error," as they say.  I was fishing lazy and shaking off rust from two weeks on dry land.  

It's like anything else, this obsession of mine.  Use it or lose it.  Practice makes perfect.  Blah, blah, blah.  


I'll stop short of bathing in tomato juice, but tomorrow it's game on.  I'm declaring jihad on the Poudre's trout.

Fall on the Poudre, 10/10/10

All too often, I tend to lose sight of the blessings that God has granted me in life.  I'm prone to bouts with self-absorption, and quick to whine to myself when life just doesn't go according to my wishes.  It's one of my many imperfections.  So, I'm fortunate to attend a church where service to others is not only something that's preached from the pulpit, but something that's supposed to be put into practice.  Today, the congregation broke into small groups and embarked on a series of efforts to live those principles.  Among other things, some visited nursing homes, others prepared packages for the homeless, and still others wrote letters to soldiers and missionaries.  It's something I should do a heck of a lot more of.  It keeps me out of my own head and puts me in a position to practice humility while reminding me that my challenges in life aren't quite so dramatic as I sometimes make them out to be.

Fat Poudre 'bow

It was a fitting lesson for today.  My afternoon on the river with Doc was one that might have normally caused me some minor annoyance.  We arrived to find the wind blowing steadily; hardly the ideal weather condition for fly fishing.  Right from the get go, things were challenging.  I lost three flies to the trees across the bank.  I dropped a full container of split shot into swift current, hopeless to retrieve it.  Somewhere along the way, I lost a pair of forceps, so I had to be extra careful removing flies from the fish I managed to land.  All this within the first hour.  Through it all, we managed to land a few small trout.

My pretty brown

The wind briefly stopped, and a few fish started rising to the surface.  No sooner had I replaced a double-nymph rig with a dry fly when the wind picked up again and the skies opened, unleashing a deluge of rain and small hail.  So much for dry fly casting.  As I sat drenched in the passenger seat of Doc's pickup, it occurred to me what a great fall day it was.  The air was crisp, temperatures nice and cool - very "Octoberish."  The great outdoors always feels a little more wild when the wind blows.  How could I possibly complain about that?

As it turns out, we managed to do OK on the fishing as well.  All it took was a little patience and some serious trial and error with the bugs.

Doc bends the rod again...

...and a quick catch and release

I can't speak for Doc, but I had the most success with a size 16 gold stone fly nymph, with a bead head providing enough weight to get down to where the fish were feeding.  I also had a good run with a size 16 pheasant tail, as close to the original PT as I have been able to tie.

BWOs, RS2s, and H2O (or, Something Other than Caddis)

Every now and then I get lucky.  It's rare in my fly fishing world that the weather, water levels, and bug choices mesh perfectly into a nicely executed two-and-a-half hours of trout stalking.  Today was one of those days.  A nice taste of early Colorado fall put a positive spin on a day that had previously been painfully monotonous and mind numbing.

 

It's been a long, hot, dry summer here in FOCO, NOCO (that's Fort Collins, Northern Colorado).  The fishing this summer has been fantastic, and progressed through a familiar seasonal routine.  After a spectacular opening to the season back in April, when tiny blue-winged olives netted me a number of 20+ inch rainbows, the Poudre settled into early summer nymphing, with fish hitting largely on small nymphs - pheasant tails and princes in particular.  Caddis hatches have dominated late August and September to this point - at times, it seemed like the trout in the lower Poudre wouldn't dine on anything else.

Today, we finally got some overcast weather with a brief period of light rain.  On my bike ride home from work, I noticed a significant amount of surface feeding, with subtle little rings of water suggesting the fish were feeding just beneath the surface.  No dramatic, splash-creating rises, just little kisses at the surface.  My mind kicked into high gear - a rare occurrence on most days - and I started formulating a plan for some evening trout catching.  In the last few minutes of my ride, I decided on a mid-size caddis as a lead fly with an RS2 trailing behind.

An hour later, I stepped into the Poudre in the middle of a very slight drizzle - actually more of a mist - and a full feeding frenzy.  The combination of the overcast sky and the light rain seemed to be the dinner bell for the fish, and within ten minutes I'd taken three nice little fish.  The caddis was simply window dressing at this point, serving no other purpose than functioning as a strike indicator.  The fish were sucking the RS2 out of the film just the way I thought they would.  Unfortunately, I'd only managed to tie one RS2 before leaving.  I'm at a loss as to why my box isn't filled with them; with the exception of the split tail, they're an easy tie, and all the wisemen in fly fishing Blogdom (here, here, and here, for instance) consistently sing the pattern's praises.

After three fish, my lone RS2 had taken too much of a beating.  The light rain stopped, but the feeding continued and the fish got more aggressive and began rolling over flies on the surface.  Noting that none had bothered to hit the caddis yet, I decided that a small BWO might be a nice substitute for the RS2.  After tying one on behind the caddis and immediately nailing a few more fish, I stuck with the caddis/BWO combination the rest of the night.  During the second hour, the fish alternately hit both flies in almost equal proportions, although I'd give the BWO the edge.  All told, I netted somewhere between 15-20 trout, all in the 10-12 inch range, with the exception of one really nice cutthroat that was probably around 14 inches.  The Poudre slam eluded me once again - the picky browns apparently didn't like the bugs I was serving up.

 

So there you have it.  No nymphs were harmed in the making of this blog post, but a number of dry flies and one emerger sure had the hell beaten out of 'em.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:  It's a beautiful thing, this obsession of mine.  I'm pretty sure there was nowhere I'd have rather been between 5:00 - 7:30!

Old-School Dry Flyin'

Like a lot of things, fly fishing has gotten gadget-happy, with all sorts of toys and accessories ranging from the ornamental to the useful.  I'll admit to having spent my share of dough on some bells and whistles over the years, but I've tried to make sure that I keep the hobby itself in perspective.  I fish with a pretty cheap rod, a small bag to hold a flybox, and a lanyard around my neck for quick access to tippet and various small tools (nail clippers, forceps, etc).  The frame on my net is aluminum; while I prefer the classy look of the wooden frame net, my wallet prefers the aluminum.  When the water cooperates, I go without waders, which always seem to spring a leak anyway. I did, for obvious reasons, recently splurge on a new pair of boots - the old ones were becoming a safety issue!

When you get right down to brass tacks, fly fishing doesn't really need to be all that complicated.  My most enjoyable days on the water have been those that required the least amount of planning and the fewest number of logistical challenges.  So Doc and I went old-school yesterday afternoon - pretty much on a whim, thanks to the Poudre's proximity.

The river is lower than I've seen it in months, and the nightly caddis hatches have been ridiculous lately.  When you combine those two variables, you've got an ideal equation for some good, old-fashioned dry fly fishing.  Grab your 5-wt, tie on a big ol' stinkin caddis with plenty of hackle, grease it up with some Gink, and cast to the rises.  Old-school.  No frills.  The way you did it when you learned as a kid.

Turned out pretty well.  The Poudre continues to fish great.  Numbers-wise, I had a solid double figure day, and Doc did the same, only he nailed a couple with some serious girth.  I toyed briefly with a Prince nymph when the surface action seemed to slow up a bit, only to abandon that idea as Doc tied into a big rainbow.

Doc puts a bend on the rod.

Fat Poudre rainbow

By 8:00 p.m., we were looking for any excuse to keep fishing.  The flies were impossible to follow, but we rationalized that if we could simply follow the flyline downstream, it stood to reason that the fly would be floating somewhere in the near vicinity.  Just before the last bit of light, Doc saw a fish rise not too far from the end of the fly line and instinctively set the hook, landing one final chunky rainbow to end the day on.

Tough way to spend a Friday afternoon.  Somebody has to do it, and it might as well be me.