To the punch line – probably the best day in terms of numbers, size, surface orientation and length of hatch on a certain inland river yesterday. Period.
On the water at 11:30 to cool, overcast skies and a breeze that failed to muster up much of anything, only hinting at its presence as night came on and departure time was at hand. The blue winged olives emerge all day. One of the days where the hatch seems to wax and wane once or twice, with the “slow downs” being probably the best catching because fewer bugs on the water. Interestingly, there was never really a magic carpet of bugs on the water and few could be seen in the air, but I was focused on heads nosing out of the water rather than counting flying bugs. Seemed like most fish in the river were looking up and much of those stationed up in the broad tailout of calf-deep water that made for easy wading, spotting and working. I’m still trying to figure out how much these surface feeders actually move. It seems they slowly work upstream at a pace commensurate with the density of bugs emerging. Lots of bugs and the fish work upriver meticulously slow – giving the appearance of feeding on station. Fewer bugs and they seem to rise one place and are never seen again unless that’s the same fish 15 feet up and to the right.
Classic dry fly fishing where time gets lost in the mix and before you know it, 11:30 turns to 4:30 and the sun is dipping to the horizon. What happened?
Afternoon light as the temperature begins to plummet ... out of practice for cooler weather!
Yeah, what was I thinking… Rain forecast for the weekend probably wouldn’t budge the rivers until Saturday night, leaving me all of Friday and Saturday to swing flies in favorite November steelhead runs. But I was consumed with bugs, rising trout and flat water. The rain would probably lead to some decent overcast conditions, if not cold, over on the Fall River… The PRD (precision rowing device) is paired up with some electrical assistance and loaded up Thursday night for an early morning departure. Weather forecast for Fall River: partly sunny with a high near 40 and, most importantly, light winds. I’ve never fished it this late in the season, but saw no reason it shouldn’t just be an all around decent day.
Snow the night before dusted the Fall River valley and a thick fog burned off as I dropped into the valley, leaving, you got it, partly sunny skies. The light breeze seemed manageable and the cold wasn’t the arctic chill I was expecting, though the forecast temps seemed right on the mark.
The baetis were coming off sporadically once on the water around 10:30. I made a few casts to a pod of fish just up from the launch – more to warm up than anything. Then off I went through a dazzlingly busy river chock full of coots splashing, feeding and cooching at every turn. Flocks of geese were caught unawares at some turns in the river, taking flight in a slow, lifting honking parade. Finally, way up near the top of the reach at Spring Creek Bridge, a lone angler sat quiet in a boat, bundled and apparently watching a pod of feeding fish. The baetis were becoming more numerous.
I settled into the wide stretch I was hoping to set up shop on – all alone except for the hundred of coots that just swam to the other side of the river, leaving me to my business. The fish were starting to show pretty good to a steady parade of emerging baetis, the occasional mahagony and a few PMDs, which I hadn’t expected. By noon, the breeze rippled the open water making things a bit more challenging, so I opted to shuttle into the lee of the bankside willows and work fish in the calm water. The PMDs become more numerous, and at some point probably outnumbered the baetis. I had a few fish to hand on both patterns until I spotted a decent fish working tight back in the sticks, right on the seam where a cast would be tough, but manageable. So, as the day went, I spent most of the hatch casting spot-on casts to this fish, finally raising it after maybe thirty casts, missing the hook and finally settling for a nearby partner that went an easy 18″.
Probably one of my best days on Fall River… that afternoon of steady baetis and PMDs. It was nice to find many fish rising on station rather than moving around as they seem apt to do here. Fishing the seams along the bank probably helped. I especially enjoyed working a decent fish for what seemed most of the afternoon – for me, that’s what I really came for even if I didn’t bring it to hand. I can’t say it was a best day in terms of fish numbers or size, just quality fishing on an, er, empty river in late Fall. Duly noted for future years.
I spent the afternoon working a decent fish back in the corner here – right on the seam where a good cast had to hold the fly for as long as possible back in there … managed to raise the fish after a long while and finally duped the fish shown here.
Caught in the act of sipping in passing baetis – or was it PMDs????
A very busy river today!!!!
Spent the better part of the afternoon right here doing the same thing over and over again and loving every bit of it. The big fish was below the fence post seen on the bank, back in the pocket – fun challenge!
Baetis and PMDs shared the water today for a few precious afternoon hours.
Afternoon light as the temperature begins to plummet … out of practice for cooler weather!
Objectives of the day were to find some of the uppermost waters listed by Van Fleet, namely Wallace and Stanishaw. According to him, these were fairly popular places to visit during the 1930s and 40s. Today, all this seems to be a ghost of its former self – with both the fish and early autumn angling pilgrims in greatly reduced numbers. There are stories to be told here of festive mornings and evenings, but they seem to have been washed downstream, or are buried deep in the riverbed. Part of this is just to catch a little of the spirit that might still linger along this lonely stretch of river.
I think we struck out on getting down to Wallace – unless the road down is the gated road (open, by the way) that seems to have a private-property look to it. A steep, downhill walk/slide landed on some tough-to-fish water – and a huff-and-puff climb out. Until I can get some maps with older names on them, Wallace will remain accessible only by boat. Van Fleet describes this water as a holdover spot for early run adults – and it fits perfectly. It is neat water, classic long steelhead run, except the bottom is all one meter and larger diameter boulders – with a ledge that drops a careless wader right into the good water and over the waders. Morphologically, the run is interesting and it looks fishy as could be…. further exploration warranted…
Next up is Stanishaw and the access was easy after a false start down a rough slope (will see how bad the poison oak sets in!). Again, long, classic broad run that is perfect swinging water. I’m glad the access turned out to be relatively easy – this is a good one to put into the standard itinerary for this stretch of river.
We also found our way down to lower Rock Creek (after another poison-oak, sliding false start) – again, a relatively easy, though steep descent to classic broad fast water over coarse substrate. The half pounders were really on the grab here and more than once I was able to quickly follow-up on an initial strike with a come-back cast and get the fish. This may be Eyese to some, not to be confused with the Ice Cream riffle above the second bridge (unless I got Ice Cream’s location all mixed up twenty some odd years back).
Working through Eyese in late afternoon ... fish were on the bite...
Amazed that we did not get an adult to hand all day, though AJ thought he had one on in the Hotel run and I had a meaty tug in the tailout at the top of Green and coulda been. And some grabs at lower Rock (Eyese) that I will never know.
Towards the end of the day I handed over my two-handed Skagit set-up to AJ and rigged up another 2-hander with a more classic long belly floating line – WOW! I had to relearn my casting. The Skagit line makes it easy, though requires lots of stripping. The full belly line doesn’t need stripping, but needs timing and authority for proper casting, especially when lifting a weighted wet fly out of the water. Might have to get back to my long lines and put away the skagit crutch until winter sets in and they’re needed to lift small, wet birds out of the water.
The days are getting short! We were off the water in near darkness at 6:45 and the sun was off the water at Eyese around 3:30 or so. Yikes! All-in-all a satisfactory day for half pounders and a day of fishing textbook fly water. We joked that each run we visited was Figure 1, or Figure 3, etc… Couldn’t ask for better water to swing a fly in ….
addendum: I think Wallace could be accessed from the Stanishaw run by walking upstream – might be a bit steep and brushy, but could be very reachable after all.
Steelhead flies for overcast days in mid-October to early NovemberFlies for Autumn - small flies in rear for shallow water, clear water and cold, clear mornings for stubborn fish. Bigger flies in front for lively fish in bigger water ready to inhale
Around this week 25 years ago I first started fishing this water regularly. Memories, stories, droughts, floods and through it all this place has changed remarkably little. No stories today, just a pleasant October day on the cusp of a storm. I knew the fishing would be tough today and I had to go to another river to find biting fish. Still, though, this is the place where fly fishing for steelhead really began for me.
Upper North-South, though some might call it middle North-South.Lowermost North-South where it turns the corner and heads over to East-West. Many a day... many a fish...
So I spent a few days traveling to far off places in search of feeding fish that might take a fly and I was intent on avoiding any of the fall glamor species and the crowds that go along with it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as ardent a fan of these species as any. I’m not about to lay off. Though I find myself put off by the crowds they seem to draw at the right place at the right time. Often, it seems as if there should be a ™ symbol by Madison River Brown Trout or Skagit River Steelhead™. But I can’t argue, when it’s on for these species, things are as good as they get – powerful fish, beautiful surroundings, and often some sort of technical challenge to give it all a cerebral element. Fish the pmd hatch on the Henry’s Fork and be off by a fraction of a size, color or emergence stage and you’re most likely going to be out of the game. Get it all right, and earn the honor of being able to walk away satisfied, if not a bit smug, over your fly fishing prowess. Ha!
Meanwhile, all those lowland waters that get driven over on the way to that Notable River™ are often teeming with the oft overlooked, but supremely challenging common carp, Cyprinus carpio. They are at once victim, persecuter and abhorrence. But think it through from a fly fishing perspective:
1) Carp are widespread and where they occur are often abundant.
2) They can reach large sizes.
3) They are not native, thus no worries about hurting the last vestiges of some wild strain.
4) They frequent shallow water where they feed often and visibly. No need for trying to hit the two hour hatch window.
5) They can be ultra-spooky. Think size 12 hook hitting the water and sending them scurrying.
6) Their dietary habits can range from the specific (fallen seeds) to the general (general bottom feeding), providing a range of fishing situations that must be addressed.
7) They are powerful.
With that in mind, I loaded up the truck with my pram, a couple of fly rods and a handful of what seemed like possible carp flies. I had two specific river locations in mind and a handful of lakes to check along the way. At every filling station along the way, the pram in the back would draw a comment and when I told them what I was after … the response was predictable “CARP!??” But it turns out everyone, and I mean everyone has a carp story. And this is good, because unlike a secret trout stream, or salmon hole, people will offer up any number of spots teeming with carp. This was a good thing for this out-of-towner. Talking carp also automatically puts you in “local” status. Your even with everybody else. You’re not some rich out-of-towner who got lost on the way to Such-and-Such Creek®. You’re after carp…
So the lakes I checked out were way out in the middle of the sagebrush and some old fisheries reports had listed carp as present but I found the water quality to be too poor for ideal fishing, or the fish just weren’t showing when I pulled up. I did find a spectacular new rock hounding spot, though, and that will be preserved for a future trip.
The first river I knew contained carp and lo-and-behold they were there: mudding, finning, grazing. However, the water was a bit too turbid for what I considered proper sight fishing and it was too weedy as well. Many fish were simply grubbing deep in the weeds. Sometimes, they were right on shore, their heads buried in a tangle of weeds, backs out of water. These fish weren’t really fishable. I did manage to land one and hook one more by eyeballing fish in deeper water that were mudding. The mud trails in the current gave away their location and a dozen casts later – casts that had to land on a dime – would result in a slight turn of the fish that suggested it might have inhaled the fly. Often wrong, sometimes right, it was tough fishing and not the situation I had scripted in my head. Off to clearer waters….
I made it to the big river. Nearly a mile wide, water visibility approaching ten feet and it’s shoreline bordered by a shallow fringe – sometimes cobble, sometimes sand and carp were visible at great distances. Another gas station tip landed me at some roadside path through a field of sticker bushes to the broadest expanse of sand flats I’ve ever seen in a river. The forecast that day called for light winds. The water at 9:00 am was glassy smooth and with the bright sun rising, this felt more like the bonefish flats of Christmas Island than some large river more known for its salmon runs and fish killing dams. And there was the first ripple on the water followed by the waving tail of a carp grubbing bottom. The tail disappears and the slight ripple on the water vanishes and all this could easily go unseen. The flats are a mixture of open, barren sand punctuated by a few cruising carp, with patches of aquatic vegetation that the carp seem drawn to.
They are ultra spooky in the calm, clear water and the “plink” of a weighted fly can send them off. More often, they seem to slowly amble away rather than flat out bolt. Some fish seem to feed leisurely while others are more intent about it. These are the ones that I will eventually find success on. They won’t move far for a fly, but I did have one jerk its head over about 6″ to grab my tiny rubber legged concoction as i slowly crept it along the bottom. What a sight!! Most of the time, the cast has to literally fall on a dime. Sometimes you can get away with overcasting then slowly stripping in the ‘the zone’ but that risks lining the fish, and if it sees the fly coming at them, it will most likely scurry away. Most memorable fish was one spotted tailing around a small pocket of weeds. I spent several minutes creeping up to accurate casting range. A half dozen casts later the fly sank perfectly, I saw a flick of its head, a puff of mud and I knew it was on. Into the backing it went and a long, slow lumbering run. I was under-prepared with my 7 wt rod. These fish are just too heavy to effectively manage. Next time will be an 8wt – at least.
The breeze stayed at bay until about 1:00 when the first ripples made sight fishing more difficult, and I had already had my fill. I suspect I’ll be craving this again, come next summer.
Travel to the carp waters traverses the wide open grasslands.
Tailing carp in calf-deep water on a still morning. This is what it’s all about.
Endless shallow sand flats perfect for wading and sight fishing. This is the stuff that will haunt my dreams over long, rainy winters…
Carp in more turbid water and its head in the weeds happily muching away. Not really a fishable fish, but fun to watch.
I don’t know when the affliction began. I think it was the nettle-preserved lemon pizza at Regazza in San Francisco over the winter. The papery crust really hooked me and a seed was planted. My early experiments, while satisfying, were nowhere near my idea of a good pizza. In my mind, the crust would make the pizza – everything else was just a formality. My doughs were overworked and lacked good crumb structure. More research ensued. I started a yeast culture – figuring if I was gonna dive into this world of yeasted breads, I better have a culture on hand. Little did I know, the sourdough culture I was about to develop would add an added layer of complexity to the whole process. I dove into books, internet forums and the occasional pizza slice out was analyzed and critiqued. I soon realized that if I wanted a real crust to develop in my humble home gas oven, I would need a better stone. I landed on a cordierite slab after getting scared off by the sheer weight of a soapstone slab – plus, the soapstone would probably take too long to heat through for my low volume of baking. Next in line was a digital scale. Most recipes and discussions stressed the need for exact weights of ingredients for dough making. Dough was talked about in terms of percent hydration, multi-day fermentations and crumb structure. If I was going to go for it, I had better roll up my sleeves and get kneading. And knead I did until my arms were tired, the floor a mess and dirty bowls piled everywhere. What I really needed was a solid stand mixer. Again, if I was gonna go for it, I needed the right tools, and the best tools. I found a used Hobart N50 on ebay. These things are widely regarded as one of the best stand mixers on the planet – with the design essentially unchanged since they were first introduced way back in the 40s or thereabouts. They can mix concrete, winch a truck out of the mud, and knead a dough to a gluten-y goodness.
Pumpkin sauce – pear pizza. An early attempt with a lackluster dough and a sauce that got lost between sweet and savory. Ready for improvements this fall.
Starting to get better with my crusts. This one has decent over spring, a good, bubbly outer crust with toasting of some of the bubbles for added flavor. This is a three day ferment in the fridge.
Dough worked a little thinner, probably missed out on some good oven spring with a premature oven, but the local sausage was excellent.
Dough ready to get topped. Some bubbles are popping up along the edge and this one really popped in the oven.
Really happy with this crust. Good color variation, oven spring and crumb.
Another satisfactory result.
Summer utility pizza with roasted tomato sauce.
Roasted tomato-garlic sauce ready to land on its new home, and eventually find its way into my belly.
Good crumb on a thicker crust pizza.
Roasted tomato-garlic sauce – the essence of summer
Simple pizzas – no sauce, just a little cheese, garlix, mozz, parm, bell pep and onion.
Roasted tomatoes (and a head of garlic) for sauce
Crumb structure on a thinner crust summer utility pizza.
Summer utility pizzas
Preparing a couple of summer utility pizzas. Roasted tomato-garlic sauce, red onion, garlic and bell pepper marinated in olive oil and pepper, kale marinated in lemon juice and sea salt, fresh zuchini, basil, moaazarella, provolone and topped with fresh oregano and parmesan after coming out of the oven. You will not find a better pizza in town.
Yesterday, on my way back from a field trip to the south, I was toying with the lines of a poem. It was solidly late afternoon, with a dipping sun coloring the dried, grassy hills a buttery hue. The temperature was about right, with the window down and it felt like this might be one of the last real summer days.
The light moves across a life gone easy.
That was yesterday. Since a Sunday river trip was in order, and since life seemed solidly in the good zone… a routine trip would yield a few routine steelhead, thus rounding out an exceptional weekend in this life gone easy. You can see where this is leading…
The salmon have arrived BIG TIME and in the water around Little Argentina they were showing two, three or more at a time. I knew they were in when I pulled up to the water, an otherwise calm early afternoon, with gentle waves rippling the surface from fish porpoising throughout the long, slow water. A black bear scampered away down the far bank. But the sun beat down hard and warm and despite two passes through I could only manage one decent fish that parted ways on a great tarpon-like leap. It looked to be 18 inches or so, putting it in the super-pounder zone. That was all I could muster save for a few juveniles that I was able to release by throwing a loop into the line and hopefully minimizing any trauma.
I packed it up and went up to lower-most Ice Cream where the same story (minus grabbing fish) played out as the first shadows crossed the far bank. The bottom of this run, if not the top, is usually dependable for a mystery tug or two (like last year’s freight train that snapped me off before I could even put a bend in the rod). Nothing doing.
Down to Stuarts to try the semi-fishy tail water and cross over to the bridge riffle. Maybe one decent tug – maybe.
I should have left later and focused on an evening outing, but it is what it is…. One of those fish-off-the-bite days, but more importantly, I was off the bite. I had too many things whirling around my head and just wasn’t as dialed in as I could have been. Often, it seems that when things are clicking, there is a synergy of angler and river – it all seems to come together just like it was supposed to be. It just wasn’t there today. In short, I was out of synch.
Maybe I was taking it all for granted, not really wanting it enough. After all, I did leave the house thinking I should stay put, do some chores, maybe get downtown and socialize a bit. The river felt like more of an obligation – I just might miss something if I don’t go. Having said that though, I was thinking today that I hadn’t fished enough so far this year and that it was passing me by. Nothing new for me. I always do well early on, have a lull day or two, think I’ve missed it all, only to arrive at some other end, in a paradise world of fall, first rain and an entirely new place. Today felt more like getting whisked up and swept along, so then, maybe the next stop is where I arrive.
Shaken Rain 
