Featured Photo: Native Colors

Featured Photo: Native Colors

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Solunar Tables

Our latest poll was on the topic of solunar tables that forecast the best fishing days, including the time of major feeding periods. I found the results interesting but also largely what I expected. I majority of responses were for the "Never" category. As I said, it was not unexpected but I think that a lot of people are missing out on some great opportunities. Of course, a lot of people don't get out that often (like me now) unfortunately and don't have the luxury of going on the forecast best days. They are just glad to be able to go when they can.

I would be willing to bet that the people that do pay attention to these tables have discovered some incredible fishing during the forecast peak periods. Fisherman that target large fish are especially likely to refer to these charts, at least in my experience. Personal experience has taught me that there really is something to these charts and I go fishing during "best" days as often as possible. If you haven't ever looked at a solunar fishing table or very rarely, I would encourage you to give it a shot. It can't hurt anything...

Monday, September 24, 2007

Went Fishing....Finally!!!


First of all, I want to apologize for the lack of recent posts. I still have several stories to share about West Trip 2007 and those will come, hopefully soon. School is a terrible thing, keeping the diligent tied down with never ending homework. Fortunately, this past weekend I had a respite. With virtually no homework due on Monday, I was able to take a last minute trip to the Smokies. I haven't done a solo trip to the park in far too long so it was great to be back out camping and doing some intense day trips to sample remote fishing opportunities.

I headed out of Chattanooga around 2:00 on Friday afternoon and made it to Little River Outfitters in Townsend by around 4:00. After finding a few fly tying items I needed, I talked to Daniel about a stream he had fished that I've been eying for awhile. Then he asked me if I had fished one of the Superfine Trout Bum rods yet. "Not yet," was my reply to which he asked if I would like to for the weekend. Opportunity doesn't come knocking like that every day and I saw a great chance to do a product review. After he got the rod and I purchased my items, I headed towards Elkmont to set up camp.



I just had to go fishing so as soon as my tent was up, I quickly put the Trout Bum rod (8' 4wt, 4-piece) together and started fishing up through the campground. The water was terribly low but the fish were still cooperative. A couple nice browns and one small rainbow later, I headed back to camp to get something to eat. After that I hit the sack since I was thinking about a big trip the next day.


The next day, after a huge breakfast, I headed over the hill to the North Carolina side to hike into a stream that I've been wanting to hit for awhile. The hike was fairly intense, made especially so by the fact that I'm not in quite the shape I should be (that will be remedied by the time my October trip rolls around). In hand I carried the Trout Bum rod to continue testing it out. After my first evening of fishing with it, I was already trying to dream up a plausible story that I could tell Daniel as to why I couldn't return the rod.


When I reached the stream, I was dismayed to find two fisherman coming downstream from where I intended to fish. After asking them how far they had fished, I decided to just start there and see what would happen. Despite the recent pressure, I was still able to fool plenty of fish. All the fish caught were brookies except for one lonely rainbow, a good sign I thought. The stream was very good-sized, especially for its elevation and was full of eager fish. Dry flies were the best option with an orange Neversink caddis accounting for most of my fish.




I had forgot to bring my headlamp this weekend so after fishing a couple of hours, I headed back down the stream to make the jaunt up and over the mountain. Getting stuck in the backcountry all night is not my idea of fun. After getting back to camp, I went down to a large pool on Little River to further test the rod. I had already used it to effectively fish dries and also heavily weighted nymphs so I decided to toss some streamers for awhile. I never threw them more than 30-40 feet for lack of casting room but the Trout Bum rod easily handled a weighted #4 Simi Seal Streamer.

After pounding the water awhile, I headed back to camp and got to bed early again. Sunday morning I wanted to fish the Little River above Elkmont. Accordingly, I got up, ate a quick breakfast and after taking down camp, I started up the trail. I decided to just start fishing without hiking very far but soon saw the telltale wet bootprints. I still managed a few fish before getting out to hike a bit farther. This time I thought I was fishing fresh water but after fishing for probably an hour or more, I saw to guys fishing above me. I had still been catching some fish but realized it probably should have been much better if I hadn't of been behind other fisherman all day. Still, despite fishing behind somebody I managed probably 10-15 fish over 2-3 hours so it wasn't a horrible day.


Finally I decided that it would be wise to head back to school and so I headed back to civilization, fully refreshed and ready to hit the books again! Oh yeah, I never came up with a good excuse so I stopped by LRO to give the rod back to Daniel. More on the rod later...

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Of Seasons and Psychology


Our most recent poll asked you which season was your favorite for fishing. Surprisingly, the majority of voters picked fall. Now I'll admit, fall is my personal favorite but every time I see this discussion come up, most people would vote for spring with its consistent hatches and the first reliable action after the cold winter months.

When I first picked the topic for this poll, I fully expected to see spring come through as the winner. Past experience on the water tells me that more people are fishing in the spring than in the fall. After a lot of thought, I decided the issue might revolve around the complexities of the human mind. I know I have at least a marginal tendency towards the following: the best season for fishing is whichever one is right around the corner.

Thus it makes sense that everyone is excited about fishing in the fall. I distinctly remember this subject appearing on several forums such as the LRO Board last spring. More properly, I should say early last spring when the first hatches were just about to take off. Everyone had been stuck inside all winter (at least the lazy folk...) and most people were sure that spring was the best time to fish. Now that we have a secondary "peak" in productive fishing coming up, people are turning their thoughts and minds towards the opportunities of fall such as large aggressive brown trout. Indeed, some of my best browns caught in the Smokies were taken in the September-November time frame.

Of course, it is also entirely possible that the majority of people that took the time to vote really do think fall is the best time of year for fishing. Regardless, it appears that a lot of fisherman are looking forward to the fall season.

For those interested in the final statistics, the poll was broken down by the following:

Spring - 27%
Summer - 6%
Fall - 66%
Winter - No one....

I guess I know when I'll be fishing to avoid the crowds...

Another East Tennessee Blog

Here is another great blog about fly fishing in East Tennessee. It is called The Trout Addiction and comes from Brett Romer in Maryville, just outside the GSMNP. Of course, we are jealous because his location is much more central to great fishing than ours, but hopefully we'll pick up some hot tips from his posts on some of the finest that East Tennessee has to offer.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Crazy Timing: YNP Day 3


Crazy timing, a developing hatred of whitefish, and unreal brookie fishing all made up day three of our Yellowstone adventure. The previous day we decided that a trip over to West Yellowstone and Blue Ribbon Flies was in order. In the process, we hoped to check out the Gallatin River.

We got a reasonably early start and headed west without too many delays. Anyone that has been to Yellowstone knows that what looks to be an hour or two long drive can easily be twice that with all the traffic jams where the tourists gawk at a buffalo that decided to park on a nice piece of pasture immediately adjacent to the highway.

Thankfully, we didn't run into that situation much on our way and were soon in West Yellowstone at Blue Ribbon Flies. We went into the shop and were immediately in heaven. This shop has the best large selection of traditional tying materials I've probably ever seen. The selection of hair and feathers was astounding not to mention their patented Zelon. After browsing for altogether too long, I finally decided it was time to get out before I saw all my money depart my wallet. I made my way up to the counter to pay where a gentleman with a slight southern accent was conversing with the guy at the register.

Standing there listening and waiting my turn, I started to realize that this guy looked familiar and then he mentioned something about "back home in Tennessee." In amazement I asked, "Are you Hugh Hartsell?" We had known that Mr. Hartsell would be out there but hadn't expected to see this excellent guide from Tennessee. After all, it is a huge area out there and the chances of running into him were extremely small. Incredibly, he answered in the affirmative so we had the pleasure of spending several minutes chatting with him about the fishing he had been doing in the area. He informed us that the Gallatin was off color which was a bummer since we were planning on fishing there. He also mentioned that he thought the Gallatin was the best option for good fishing in the area based on his experience so far. Still in shock over the unbelievable timing it took for us both to be at BRF at the same time, we eventually said goodbye as his wife was waiting on him.



After finishing up at Blue Ribbon Flies, we decided to head up to the Gallatin anyway. It turned out to be a good decision. We got there and while the water was cloudy, it was still fishable as long as you could cast in the increasingly gusty wind. I started out fishing hoppers figuring that surely the strong wind would be blowing them into the water but I couldn't rise a single fish. Soon after, I switched to a Tellico nymph and things improved drastically.



The first few fish were chunky hard fighting rainbows that put on a great aerial display. Then it happened. My nymphs were drifting through a nice hole when my line suddenly stopped and then shot upstream a couple of feet as I set the hook. A nice fish had taken the Tellico and started bulldogging persistently. Flashes of what looked like gold were soon reaching the surface and I thought it was a good brown. Soon however, I brought a whitefish to hand (my first I might add). I'm beginning to understand why people dislike these fish. More on that another time...



After landing that beast, I soon caught several more rainbows and cutthroat before finally landing one brown. Four species in a couple of hours from one stream was pretty amazing but it was time to move on. The wind had got even worse and we had other streams we wanted to look at.





After stopping to check a few spots, we finally settled on the upper Gibbon where I had fond memories of casting to brook trout in a beautiful meadow setting. It was just as I remembered and we were soon catching brookies and the odd rainbow on small ant patterns. They came in two sizes mainly, small and smaller. However they were very willing to eat and provided nonstop fun on dries which is a good time any day in my book. I even caught one guy that had some serious "teeth."



It turned out to be an excellent day exploring a couple of nice streams. We still had other adventures ahead though including the Lamar and Slough Creek not to mention the Yellowstone...

Friday, September 07, 2007

Yellowstone Day 2: Soda Butte Creek


Day two in Yellowstone was dedicated to Soda Butte Creek. The afternoon closure necessitated fishing earlier in the day and we were on the stream by around 11:00. We fished in the vicinity of Soda Butte and did well, mainly on terrestrials.

Things started out a bit slow for me as I was learning where the Cutts liked to feed and hold but once I figured out where they were, things became easy. It wasn't until just a little while before the closure that I discovered a deadly technique to take some nicer fish. It was really quite easy but provided a lot of fun and entertainment.


I positioned myself somewhere around the head of a pool where the riffle from above dropped off the ledge into the deeper waters of the pool. The best spot was where there was an eddy at the head of the pool. The fish would just stack up in there. The slightly off color water of Soda Butte Creek is really what made this technique work. After I had positioned myself, I would cast my fly just a short distance, never more than 10 feet or so. The goal was to have all my line off the water with just the fly touching. Once I got the fly (foam hopper) on a good drift, I would start tapping my rod vigorously enough to twitch the fly as it drifted through the whirlpool. The fish absolutely went nuts.




This technique accounted for my best fish which probably was around 15 or 16 inches. Unfortunately, the closure went into effect soon after I figured out this method so we had to move elsewhere.

After a quick lunch, we decided on fishing upper Soda Butte Creek above Icebox Canyon. This proved to be an excellent choice and we caught several more fish with most in the 6-10 inch range but a few nice 12-14 inch fish were mixed in as well. The best fly here was hard to determine. It seemed that once you caught a fish or two on one fly, it would no longer be effective. This kept me changing flies quite frequently. Another interesting phenomena we discovered here was that the fish were very hard to spook. Often, the fish would not hit on the first, second, third or even fourth drift. Sometimes it took 15 or 20 casts before a fish would rise. This was strange since I'm used to the willing fish of the Smokies where it is generally agreed upon that you give each spot a few casts and move on.



Despite changing flies often, several fish came to hand to complete a productive and interesting day. That evening, we decided we were going to make the trek over to West Yellowstone and the Gallatin River so we got to bed early. The next day would prove to be amazing...

Saturday, September 01, 2007

The Fun Continues!


Just as promised, I have taken time away from toiling over a textbook to bring you more on West Trip 2007. While I still have a post or two about Colorado, it is time to focus on Yellowstone for awhile.


We arrived in the park on August 6, 2007 and made our way to the Northeast corner to find a camp. We decided on Pebble Creek which turned out to be an excellent decision. After setting up camp and being lazy for awhile, it was time to catch that first Yellowstone trout of the trip. Being 100 feet from Pebble Creek made the decision easy (and the fact that the afternoon closures on the larger streams was in effect). It didn't take long to get that first Yellowstone Cutt and several others, most being 5-6 inches.

After being spoiled by all the hogs in Colorado, we wanted something at least a bit larger so we wandered up the road towards the upper portion of Soda Butte above Icebox Canyon where the closure was not in effect. We soon found a few fish that were a bit more respectable before wandering back towards camp to make some supper.


After eating, we just had to go find some pigs so we went to Trout Lake. Everything I had read about this lake indicated the fish were generally of good size. Upon arrival, we found the lake to have a bit of chop on the surface making spotting fish difficult. However, after awhile it calmed down and we were spotting some monsters. Some fairly large speckled cream midges were coming off but I had nothing in my box to match. I knew that the fish were probably taking midges under the surface though so I tied on a zebra midge and was soon sight casting over a nice Cutthroat. Many casts later, the fish ate solidly. Surprisingly, I had already got this fish to eat twice but had not stung it yet. The gorgeous fish soon came to hand and posed for a brief picture before it swam away.


That wrapped up the first day in the park but we had only begun...


Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Back To School

That time of year has rolled around again when fishing must be pushed to the back burner and I crack down and focus on school. At least, that's the story I'm telling. Needless to say, one must have some stress relief on occasion and when that time comes, I'll probably be knee deep in a trout stream somewhere in East Tennessee. Unfortunately, school will cut into my time to think up stuff to put on here so my posts will be running shorter, although I do hope to keep them coming often. I still have several posts to make about West Trip 2007 including the PIG rainbow in Yellowstone among other exciting moments. Check back often and soon for those details...

Also, for those that haven't noticed, we have another poll to the right. Let me know what your favorite season for fishing is...

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

The Orderly Fly Box

The routine has not failed me yet. I will get out my vest, go through all the pockets, and eliminate the extras and make a note to pick up something if I'm running low. The worst is always the fly boxes. I always carry several, specifically a box for dries, one for dries, nymphs and midges, and one strictly for nymphs and a few streamers. Occasionally I'll add a streamer box to this depending on where I'm fishing. After I overhaul the contents of my boxes and reorganize, they look much better than when I started. Apparently I still have a long ways to go though.

We recently received this photo from Trout Zone reader Phil Brandt. He was preparing to embark on a trip out west and his fly box is, well, immaculate to say the least. At least we now have a higher standard to strive for...

Stream Ethics

Much thanks to those that noticed and voted in our poll on whether or not people should be fishing in the Smokies. The end results where interesting but probably approximately what I would have expected. The final tally had 60% of voters saying that people shouldn't be fishing, 15% said it was fine to go fishing, and 25% said it depended on the water temperatures.

Honestly, I believe any of these answers is fine because it is a personal decision. Everyone that fishes should develop some type of ethic because the thought process is important. Too me, it all revolves around respecting your quarry.

Personally, it bothers me to fish under these conditions but it also occurs to me that there are places around the country where the streams cease to flow part of the year with the remaining fish stuck in isolated pools. These fish do just fine and actually thrive, having adapted over the years to the inconsistencies of nature. A prime example would be some of the streams in the desert southwest.

Regardless of whether we fish during the low water or not, it will be extremely interesting to see how the fish populations are doing once the flows improve. Hopefully it won't be too long!!!

Monday, August 27, 2007

Rocky Mountain High...


The opportunity to go to Rocky Mountain National Park during West Trip 2007 was one that I couldn't miss. Until recently, Rocky Mountain was on the list of parks that I had not visited. Not now...I can officially check it off the list. Trail Ridge Road was everything I expected and then some. The sweeping vistas that can be taken in on this high-elevation road are enough in themselves.

Fishing in the Park was only a bonus...


I wet a line in a couple different streams and came up with a couple brookies and several browns. I missed way more fish than I caught, mainly because I was so caught up in the scenery.


The local wildlife was too bold, I can only assume this little guy was looking for a handout. Probably because too many tourists were feeding it, illegally I might add.


The sunset was spectacular, I'll let the picture tell the rest...

Thursday, August 23, 2007

The Frying Pan


After the spectacle that was the Taylor River, the rest of the trip somehow seemed anticlimactic. Yet, with each new place we found something to match or even surpass the quality fishing we had found on the Taylor. Between the Pan and the Taylor, there were some small streams visited but those are better left for another time. I'm a small stream addict and telling about them could become a lengthy endeavor which I don't feel up to right now.

The Pan, ah the Frying Pan...where do I begin? This was my first trip to the river and I really didn't have any idea what to expect. A quick stop at Taylor Creek Fly Shop in Basalt, CO fixed that problem and I came away poorer by several dollars but much richer in my knowledge of the river, not to mention being armed with the best local flies.

The drive up the river had me drooling but also frustrated. All the best water, or nearly all was clearly marked as private. This is the biggest complaint I have against Colorado. The state has a ton of incredible water which could easily rival anything else in the country. However, they don't have the angler-friendly stream access laws found in places such as Montana. Fortunately, despite the large amount of closed water, there was still plenty available and we were after some hogs which meant heading to just below the dam.

The Toilet Bowl is THE place to be on the Frying Pan and after finding it crowded several times, we finally managed to get a spot to cast over the monsters that live there. Despite all we had heard about how technical it was, it actually seemed easier than the Taylor and the fish were every bit as large. Once again the way to catch the fish was by sight fishing. The takes were so soft and quick that by the time an indicator moved it was too late.


Within minutes of fishing the Toilet Bowl, I hooked my first Frying Pan brown and it was a nice fish. Not as nice as the monsters that occasionally drifted out of the depths but still a good fish.


Later on we fished further down river where PMDs were pouring off and the fish were looking up. The hatch didn't last too long but it was great while it lasted. That evening it was back to the Toilet Bowl in search of hogs. I soon had my buddy fishing the best spot and was acting as spotter. He was casting over a nice brown which he couldn't see too well since the light was getting dim. It was still light enough for me to see from my better vantage point though and I saw the fish turn and the white mouth show for a brief second. I made a loud whoop and my buddy set the hook to find a 23 inch brown pulling back. I've never seen anyone so focused on landing a fish. At first I didn't know why but then asked about the tippet. The response was some muttering about 7X and I knew that he was in for quite a ride. Amazingly, the tippet held through several scorching runs and he was able to keep the fish from getting in the heaviest current, a minor miracle in itself. Finally, the fish began to tire and I waited expectantly with the net. An opportunity presented itself and I lunged at the fish, just corralling it before it went crazy again. After a quick picture, we watched the fish swim back out into the current to be caught yet again someday.


Not to be outdone, I caught another fish but not as large as the beast my buddy landed. "Another day," I told myself. The next day was dedicated to the Roaring Fork, another great river I had never got to fish. We met up with a local named Tony that had offered to show us around. He turned out to be a great fisherman and put us on some great fish. The theme of our stay in the Basalt area turned out being the One That Got Away and it started on the Fork.


We were fishing up the river through some of the most beautiful pocket water I've ever fished. I was wading slowly upstream watching for fish when I saw a large brown finning behind a boulder. The fish was actively feeding and I figured I could catch him from where I was at. I carefully lobbed my nymphs upstream from his position and watched as he turned on my fly, pulling it away before he actually ate. "That will spook him for sure," I muttered to myself. Strangely, the fish turned around and returned to his feeding lie and I got another shot. After several more drifts, I saw the fishes mouth open when my flies were in the area and soon found that it was one of my nymphs he had taken. The fish absolutely took off. I mean, he motored upstream through a short rapids and was gone with my fly recoiling with the line back in my face as he shook it free. This was just the beginning.

The next morning was our last one before we took off for Rocky Mountain National Park. We were determined to get another shot at the Toilet Bowl and accordingly got there well before sunrise. Thankfully, we didn't get up early in vane and found the spot unoccupied. We began fishing and I hooked a decent brown right off and figured it was going to be crazy. Strangely though, the fishing wasn't that good and we were starting to think about leaving. Then the Monster showed up. It appeared to be the big brown we had been watching the past few days that would silently appear out of the depths and then slide back like a ghost as quickly as he had appeared. Today however, the fish seemed to be in full feeding mode and stayed out where we could see it for awhile before disappearing, only to reappear again shortly after. After probably an hour of this nonsense, the fish came up within about 8 feet of me and and I shakily made a careful cast....behind him. I was almost to pull it out when the fish slowly turned and then darted back towards my flies. I saw his mouth open and then his head turn as my line came tight and it was off to the races.

The day before over on the Fork, Tony had asked if any fish had taken us to the cleaners. I had replied in the negative but found out quickly what he meant. This fish looked to be somewhere in the 25-30 inch range and perhaps larger. I do know it was much larger than the 23 inch fish caught previously. As soon as I set the hook, the fish took me to the cleaners. It roared straight out through the current heading towards the large eddy in the backside of the Toilet Bowl. I was nervously watching my line approach the backing and then the fish tore through the eddy heading for the farthest corner of the pool. My reel was screaming and I was shaking like a leaf. I'm sure you know what happened next... The line suddenly went limp and I was pretty sure the fish was gone. Reeling line in, I was positive I would find my flies gone but to my shock, they were still intact. I didn't know what to think, could I have done something different? Of course, I had probably done everything I could do and on 6X, this fish would have been extremely difficult to land in the first place. Then I realized, I HAD tricked this monster. The only thing I didn't do was land it and I knew that next time, the fish would probably not be quite as lucky.

I left after that. I just didn't want to fish any more. I had reached the pinnacle and was ready to let the rest of the fish be. Of course, I would be back someday. The experience was something I wanted to have again, and next time, that fish will be caught...

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

The Journey

Some of my favorite moments while travelling occur when I least expect them. Probably this is largely the allure of the highway, at least for me. Enjoyment comes simply from seeing what is around the next bend or over the next hill. I suppose it is the explorer in me begging to be turned loose.

During West Trip 2007, there were many exciting moments that revolved around fishing. Seeing huge fish, casting to huge fish, hooking, fighting and landing huge (for me) fish. Then there were other moments, ones that still involved fishing but for different reasons. Perfect light for an awesome picture on the upper Gibbon, the huge buffalo I almost walked up on at the Lamar, the elk skull with large antlers still intact, and even the little fish I caught, all these hold a special memory. Finally there are those moments that happen on every fishing trip that occur away from fishing, an interesting stop on the road for example. Or maybe the coyote that wasted my bumper and radiator.

Early in the trip, several interesting moments presented themselves. One of my favorites was a small falls we found roadside in Colorado. It was pouring out of a tiny canyon, more of a slot canyon really. It reminded me of my days roaming around the arid wasteland also known as Utah where the raw beauty of the earth is put on display front and center. The little trickle was in shadows and didn't provide a particularly great photo opportunity, especially considering that I forgot to get out the tripod. It was special though, in part because of the past memories it brought back.


It is these moments that keep me cruising down the roads of America, always searching for something new and yet apparently searching for remembrance also. Already I look forward to my next road trip and hope it will come sooner as opposed to later. There's something I must find around the next bend...

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Update to East Tennessee Drought

For those interested, here is a link to several pictures of the Little River drainage from Byron Begley over at Little River Outfitters. Once again, we would encourage everyone to avoid fishing under these extreme conditions. The fish deserve to be left in peace in this tough drought year. If you must go fishing please stick to the higher elevation streams where the water is cooler and more oxygenated due to the higher gradient.

Please see our poll on the right about this subject and let us know your opinion!!!

Home Water


After a long fishing trip, it would be easy to have one of two problems. The first problem that could develop would be an addiction to fishing every day as much as you wanted. The second potential problem is that you could get so tired of fishing that you wouldn't go for a few weeks.

I probably am as close to being right between these two problems (and hopefully this means normal) as you can get. The shakes haven't taken over yet but I don't have to stay away from fishing either. Curiosity took over yesterday and I made the short drive down to my "home" tailwater, the Caney Fork. I had to do some research to see how the fish were doing.

Wow! Talk about being a bit rusty. As much as it sounds ridiculous, the west had spoiled me with hard to spook, easy to catch fish. I started out using standard indicators and quickly had to go back to my dry dropper to get into fish. Once I started the old routine I remembered so well, things started to improve. Another problem soon became apparent however. Caney Fork fish are perhaps some of the fastest in the world at taking a fly and spitting it back out. I had grown accustomed to big stupid Cutts on the Yellowstone that would grab my fly and dart upstream with the indicator dragging behind. Reaction time wasn't all that important and so my reflexes were a bit off.


I stuck some nice fish and missed a bunch, but somehow managed to bring a few to hand as well. The good news I discovered is that the fish are in great shape heading towards fall. If we can avoid any late summer dissolved oxygen issues, this fall should bring some of the best fishing we've seen in awhile on the Caney Fork including some excellent sight fishing opportunities for larger fish. There are lots of healthy holdovers and all the fish seemed fat and full of fight. Of course, I can't make too many judgements off of just one fishing trip so expect to see me on the river again soon doing more "research."

Monday, August 20, 2007

First Stop, Taylor River

The morning sun lights up Taylor Canyon

If someone were asked to design the perfect trophy trout river, it probably would be the Taylor we were fortunate enough to fish. When Colorado was added to the trip itinerary, I got quite excited. Having spent my whole summer in the Gunnison/Montrose vicinity last year, I was already very familiar with the wide range of quality fishing options that existed in that area. The Taylor was one of those streams that I left knowing that I would return, probably as often as possible. There just aren't that many rivers where you can walk up and see 40 brown trout laying on the bottom of one small part of one hole, all of which are in the 4-6 pound and larger range. Of course, catching these fish is another story.

We got into the Gunnison area fairly late Friday evening due to the previous troubles with the coyote. Thankfully, at this point the car seemed to be doing fine and gave little indication of the troubles we would encounter much further down the road. Considering that late hour, I was visibly nervous about our prospects of finding a camp site. As we travelled up Taylor Canyon, my fears seemed well warranted. Every campground was either full or the extra sites had "Reserved" cards on them. Finally, we found what had to have been the last available site in the entire canyon and after a very quick setup, we were soon in our tents sleeping soundly.

The next morning, I awoke refreshed and excited to be embarking on the first leg of this grand adventure I now fondly recall as West Trip 2007. The canyon was cool and surprisingly humid with condensation showing up on my rain fly. This did little to dampen my spirits however as I saw my first view in the daylight of the magnificent Taylor Canyon since last summer. The early morning sun was lighting up the canyon walls with an explosion of colors and the bright blue sky providing the perfect backdrop with the white clouds floating through it

After a nice easy breakfast, we eventually headed up the canyon towards the short public stretch known as the Trophy section. Upon arrival we were greeted with a ton of other fisherman. I always know I can expect this on the Taylor but it is always a bit of a surprise each time I go there. Despite the crowds, we were soon rigged up and began our quest for some trophy fish.

After a short while, a good spot opened up and we quickly moved over and began sight casting over some very nice fish. About this time, a few bugs started popping off the water and I was pleased to see what appeared to be PMDs. I quickly reached for the nearest match I had at the moment which was a sulphur sparkle dun left over from some of my South Holston trips. The fly was lighter than the naturals but I didn't care. After a few casts, I noticed a fish rising steadily just upstream and carefully cast my fly in its direction. First cast, just a bit short and off its right shoulder, strip, strip, pick up line, cast again, perfect. The fish rose confidently as I tensed then gently lifted my rod tip and the battle was joined. The fish quickly ran downstream into the big pool just below and started the bulldogging that we became so familiar with. I hadn't seen a fish that could rip line for quite awhile so this moment was one to be savored. Of course, the 6X I had on slowed down the process but eventually, a nice brown came to the net. After a quick pose with my first fish of the trip, he darted back off into the river in search of more trouble.

First fish of the trip

It was somewhat ironic that I caught my first fish on a dry. Don't get me wrong, I love fishing dries and fish them whenever opportunity beckons, its just that between me and my buddy fishing with me, I was the nymph guy and he was the dry fly guy. It got crazier soon after my first fish when he hooked a very nice fish and after another solid fight, I netted it for him. When he began to remove the hook, I asked what he caught it on. "A nymph" was his reply. So both of us got our first fish doing the exact opposite of what we usually do.

The Release

After this revelation, I quickly changed to a nymph rig. My buddy Trevor had brought to my attention the fact that there were some fairly large stonefly shucks hanging around on the banks. This brought out my favorite Tennessee fly (most of you should be able to figure this one out easily) which was soon employed in hauling in large Taylor river fish. I was in heaven. Sight casting to large trout with a double nymph rig was just about as good as watching a fish rise to the dry and I soon was catching enough to let me know that the nymph was no fluke. Shortly after, the Green Drakes started hatching but I stuck with what was working and the fish rewarded me. I caught fish on several different flies that first day on the Taylor and none of them was smaller than a #14. Sometimes, the fish just want to see something different. Almost everyone else there was fishing small stuff except for those that had figured out the hatch that was in progress.


Brilliantly colored Taylor Brown

As time moved on, I was enjoying myself but realized that I hadn't caught any rainbows. This is not that surprising as the browns are dominant in the Taylor but I still wanted my 'bow. After spending a bit of time sight casting over a few smallish rainbows, I found a better one feeding just behind the lip where a nice run fed into a large pool. It was feeding in 4-5 feet of water and was quite active so I knew I had a very good shot at hooking this fish. A quick check of all my knots reassured me that everything was in good shape and I began casting and trying to ascertain the proper drift to get my flies into the strike zone. After a few drifts that were off, I finally found the proper line for my flies and was soon drifting them reasonably close to the fish every cast. I knew that eventually my flies would either interest the fish or chase it off. Fortunately, the former happened and I soon had several pounds of rainbow ripping line off my reel. "This is one fish you don't want to lose," I breathed softly to myself. After several hard runs and what seemed like an eternity, the fish began tiring slightly. However, every time I got it anywhere near shallow water, it made another hard bulldogging run back into the current. Finally the fish seemed ready and I guided it in to Trevor who was waiting with the net. Once again, a quick shot of the fish and it swam strongly away leaving me with a memory of thick shoulders and brilliant sides.

Nice Taylor Rainbow

Finally, we began to get a bit tired and hungry and decided to leave the fish in peace for the rest of the day. We made our way up above Taylor Reservoir to find some smaller fish in the upper Taylor. It just wasn't the same though, we had been spoiled on our first day of the trip. This would ultimately bring us to spend some extra time at the Taylor when we discovered that the Gunnison in the Black Canyon was blown out (read excessively muddy) due to the recent rain.

Collegiate Peaks as viewed from Taylor Park

Our return to the Taylor proved just as much fun although the fish were slightly more picky the second time around. I actually had to use the small stuff I had so carefully avoided our first time through and caught fish on various midges in addition to the dries that imitated the currently hatching PMDs and Green Drakes.

Taylor Brown on a dry

Once again, I left the Taylor with a desire to return. Some rivers just have a gravitational pull, or perhaps its as simple as good fishing. Regardless, the Taylor is one river I will be back to again over the upcoming years.