Warm Weather Can = Early Hatches
I almost got caught with my pants down fishing a spring creek the other day.
Without even giving it a second thought, I had left the cabin without one of my dry fly boxes, that’s loaded with all my favorite Sulphur and Light Cahill patterns. It was after all late March, and those two species of Mayflies usually don’t even begin making an appearance on my home waters until late April and May. Furthermore, in my defense, I wasn’t even planning on doing much dry fly fishing that day. Generally, March has our tributaries running really high from heavy rainfall, and dredging big nymphs almost always guarantees you good numbers of fish, sometimes even lunkers. This day wasn’t your average March day though. It was 80 plus degrees and sunny, which was well above the norm for this time of year.
Before I knew it, I was completely blind sided by an early afternoon Light Cahill hatch in progress. As I stood there in total amazement with my jaw wide open, my inner voice began chattering loudly, “This hatch shouldn’t be happening for at least another month”. Sure enough though, as the hatch gained momentum, fish began steadily rising to the freshly hatched duns. I immediately snipped off my nymphs and began frantically digging through my pack for my dry fly box, but as I mentioned earlier, it wasn’t there. Lucky for me though, my pack has a giant fly drying patch, and it’s always loaded up year round with random fly patterns. As I scanned the unorganized collage of flies, I managed to spot a lone Light Cahill parachute hiding in the clutter from last season. With a sigh of relieve, feeling like I had just found a needle in a hay stack, I quickly snatched it from the foam patch and tied it on.
For the next two hours, with a grin from ear to ear, I soaked up the intoxicating atmosphere of bliss, as I picked off risers one by one, with my freshly silicone basted parachute dry fly. Somehow by the grace of God that day I managed to avoid a catastrophe of ignorance and poor planning. I’ll never again wrongly judge the importance of
Read More »Lowcountry Winter Redfish
By Owen Plair
What makes the winter fishing for redfish so special?
There are not many fisheries that have a winter time season, due to migratory fish, cold temps, snow, and ice. One of the many great things about the Lowcountry is that it is a year round fishery for Redfish. When the bright green spartina grass starts to fade to brown and the water temperature dips below 65 degrees; you know winter fishing has arrived here on the coast of South Carolina.
One thing that’s special about the winter is the low tide fishery, which is mainly what we are fishing. The fiddlers go down in the winter which takes away the opportunity for tailing fish on the flood tides. During the low tides from mid December until the end of March, fishing can be some of the most visual of the year as large schools of 20-200 Redfish cruise the shallow water mud flats.
In the winter, water clarity is the best it gets all year. Colder water and less rain provides gin clear water on the mud flats, and small creeks. Clear winter skies make it easier to see these large schools as far as 50-100 yards from the boat, as they cruise down the mud flats in 8-10 inches of water. It’s as close to bone fishing that you can get and an absolute blast watching 5 or 6 different fish chase the fly.
Redfish school up in high numbers during the winter time to stay safe from dolphin, which are their number one predator. The dolphin also take advantage of the clear water and large schools during low tide, since there are not as many mullet or other bait fish for them to feed on. The redfish naturally feel more comfortable cruising the flats in numbers, when threatened by feeding dolphin.
Like I mentioned above, there are not a lot of baitfish and shrimp around during the winter months. One good thing about this is that the redfish
Read More »In Our Fly We Trust
By Jesse Lowry
Fishing is as much of a mental game as any sport.
Whether it’s having confidence in your gear, the conditions, your technique, hell, even in the fish, the psychological factors play a role in how we perform on the water.
While a multitude of factors can be considered when deciding where, when, how, and with what we fish, having too much focus. or a focusing only on the negative factors, can be what stands between us and a successful day on the water. For instance, worrying that you can’t make a cast, or the weather is going to put the fish down, or these currents are going to make it tough to get a good drift, or the tide might not be ideal for this spot, or maybe I don’t have on the right fly.
While these are all valid factors to consider, they are all directed at the negative aspects of the proverbial hand we are dealt. This train of thought is tough to change. It is in our hard wiring. We are inherently risk averse as a species and thus try to avoid negative outcomes by using past experience as a guide. This leads to a bias where we focus on how we can fail as opposed to how we can succeed. Changing this type of thinking takes time and has to be done in baby steps. In my opinion a good place to start changing this biased way of thinking is with the fly we tie on.
I’ve had the same conversation with numerous fly fishermen in different parts of the world, regarding different species of fish and the consensus has been the same. A fly
Read More »DRIFTING
By Marcus Saunders
That gentle morning light seems to push back all those fears that hound our minds at 3am. Glancing sideways out of the ute window, I see vague outlines race by as the human world slowly comes into focus; the radio is silent, and only the occasional rattle of the trailer reminds me that the boat is in tow. Early mornings belong to no one. Fishermen seem to love them more than most, the enveloping quiet, indifference from most wildlife and only the occasional raspy bird call. The put-in at Cressy is quiet, not another soul as you watch the sun creeping closer until finally that ribbon of fire burns across the landscape. The boat slides gently from the cradle, the teflon doing its job as quickly the boat is tugging on the rope. Sometimes it feels a little strange, like a dog pulling on the leash, then final checks and a gentle push, and your other life is left behind. The first dip of the oar as you correct then find your line, followed by the inevitable arse shifting as the rope seat softens and you push to find your sacred position. You swing the bow into the current, one more quick check, and finally it feels right.
Despite the graft, it just feels right. Everything seems to be as it should be, and a little on-the-spot research confirms that these boats were designed for hard labour. I’ve never considered myself an oarsman, but when I sit in a boat that has been shaped by my own hands a different kind of connection seems to exist. It may sound a little fauxmantic, yet it is possibly like any other love in that it helps make us whole. The slow start is comforting, low volume on the chatter as eyes search, those extra few minutes in the seat settle you quickly as mental adjustments are made and reading the water takes on its true meaning, searching casts arc out toward the bank as perception and reality clash. Thankfully, rhythm takes hold as cast after cast seems to be hitting the zone, the first slashy take drags us back as the mad scramble ensues, all that initial organisation goes to shit as the net gets dragged out from under what appears to be a floating fishing store and takeaway food shop. Gently you ease back on the oars as the struggle quickly fades and the net is dipped beneath a pretty little hen with spots that makes you take a second look. It feels good to be on the board early and, after easing her gently back, some quick reorganising shuffles the positions and it’s my turn to cast.
The day rolls with the pace of the river. Continual mends are thrown as you attempt to use the current to your advantage, still no hatch yet enough fish sitting just off the edge that the nymph dropper can still bring some activity. The air temperature has climbed enough that we can now strip down to waders and a tee, we need no reminders of how cold and long winter is, and any chance to lighten up is taken. Along with the warmth come the hatches. All of a sudden the back eddies are filling with lilting mayflies, they lift and fall under the now patchy sky, leaders are lightened and size 16 black spinners are tied on and ginked. We float along until
Read More »All That Glitters
By Louis Cahill
About once a year I get an email from the editor of a fishing magazine saying, “I heard you have photos of golden trout.”
The answer is yes, but better than half the time the question is completely wrong. There seems to be a lot of confusion over exactly what is a golden trout, and the media has done it’s part to foster that confusion. In reality, the jury is not, in any way, out on the subject but more than half the time what they are referring to is actually a palomino trout, not a golden.
I say this meme on Instagram the other day and it made me think this was a good subject to help clarify. A palomino trout is actually an albino rainbow trout. though they do accuse in small numbers in the wild, they are most commonly raised and stocked as a novelty in pay-to-play private waters. Feelings are widely split on these fish, who never asked to be called into existence. They are at once kind of cool and the highest level of bullshit. I’ll let you decide where you land in that debate. You can read more about palomino trout here.
Golden trout on the other hand, are something truly special.
Native to the Kern River drainage in California, this unique and rare subspecies of rainbow trout is one of the most beautiful fish you will ever see. They exist a few places outside their native range, notably in the Wind River Range of Wyoming and are known to be extremely elusive. The golden trout likely tops the list of
Read More »Lionfish – Tasty on Pizza, Hell on the Ecosystem
Lionfish may be the mother of all invasive species.
Take a moment to think about this: a lionfish (native to the Indo-Pacific) has no natural predators in the Atlantic ocean. It can live up to fifteen years, reaching sexual maturity in less than a year. Once mature, a pair can spawn as often as every four days. A single mature female can produce up to two million eggs per year and they will tolerate a population density of two hundred adults per acre. Just the math involved scares me, but you don’t even have to get out the calculator to see where this is going.
Introduced in several locations in Florida as a result of aquarium damage during hurricane Andrew, lionfish have been making their way around the Caribbean and east coast of the US for the past twelve years, but in the last three years the population has exploded. They are now found as far north as North Carolina and south into South America. They are rampant in the Bahamas as well as the Florida Keys and are now common in the Florida panhandle.
Why am I so worried about this beautiful tropical fish? Here are a few more fun lionfish facts.Lionfish prey on almost every other species of fish. They also eat their spawn. They decimate populations of juvenile tropical fish including sport fish. They exhibit site fidelity and once established, reduce populations of other fish by as much as ninety-five percent. They grow to twenty inches and will eat fish over half their size. What they don’t eat, they out compete. Oh yeah, and they’re poisonous! Nice neighbors, huh?
So what do we do about all this?
Read More »Tie The White Marabou Streamer
MY GOOD FRIEND DAN FLYNN GREW UP IN MAINE CHASING THE GIANT BROOK TROUT IN THE RANGELEY LAKES REGION.
These days you can find him high in the headwaters of the Southern Appalachians after the local brookies or tied into a big wild brown downstream. The geography may have changed but there is still a lot of Maine in his tying.
Dan ties and fishes several old school Maine flies with great success here in the Southeast. One of my favorites is this classic White Marabou Streamer. This fly is a stream vacuum anywhere you fish it. Check out the video and tie a few up. I promise they will put you on some trout.
Read More »Concentration, Relaxation and Communication Equal Better Bonefishing
By Louis Cahill
Concentration, Relaxation and Communication. I wish I could claim those words.
I’m quoting Jose Sands, bonefish guide at Andros South Bonefish Lodge. That was his answer when I asked what he thought was the key to successful bonefishing. As usual, he nailed it.
Plenty of anglers are frustrated or intimidated by bonefish. Bonefishing is a complex game with a lot of moving parts and all too often what should be a simple formula breaks down completely. When that happens it’s usually because one or more elements in Jose’s recipe are missing. It’s easier said than done but if you can accomplish these three things, the pieces start to fall into place.
COMMUNICATION
Most saltwater fishing is a team sport. Whether fishing with friends or a guide, you are generally depending on someone else to help you find fish and make a good presentation. Things happen quickly and everyone needs to be on the same page and communicating efficiently to make it work.
There are some universal ideas that everyone needs to understand in order to have good communication. Understanding the bow clock, for instance. When your guide tells you there is a fish at eleven o’clock, forty feet, moving right, it should be a simple thing to find that fish. You learn pretty quickly however, that everyone’s forty feet is not the same and even your guide will occasionally lose track of where eleven o’clock is.
It pays to take a minute at the start of the day to pick an object like a mangrove sprout and decide how far away it is. That helps you calibrate for the day. I find that guides often call out distances that seem much farther than I think is realistic. Not because they don’t know how far away the fish is, but because we are looking at it from very different perspectives. Mine on the bow, and there’s, from the platform at the back of the boat. It’s also worth the time it takes to look at the bow of the boat and confirm where twelve o’clock actually is before you waste a lot of time looking for fish in the wrong spot.
Guides will also use terms like “drop the fly” and “shoot the fly,” to indicate how it should be presented. Drop means you are already carrying enough line for a good presentation, while shoot indicates that you need to let some line go on your delivery. These kinds of directions vary from guide to guide, so take the time to ask early on. It’s impossible to over emphasize the importance of good communication.
I have about a 40% hearing loss and it’s a huge challenge for me. I remind my guide several times during the start of the day that I am deaf as a post. No guide likes to shout in the presence of bonefish but if I can’t hear their direction we both wind up frustrated.
CONCENTRATION
The thing I enjoy the most about bonefishing is the same thing that makes it so difficult.
Read More »DeGala’s Hula Damsel
By Herman deGala
It’s the time of year when the rivers and creeks around Colorado are blown out because of run-off but the weather is just gorgeous. What is a body to do? Of course, you could head to some tailwater. Until you get there and find everyone thought the same thing.
Or you could head to your nearby lake or pond. It’s all filled up. You can see dragonflies and damsels dancing in midair. You might even see a bass come up and just crush a dragonfly as it drops its eggs.
This Hula Damsel is my favorite pattern for this time of year. It is articulated to give it an extra bit of movement as you strip it through the water. It dives when you pause, which is a definite trigger.
I typically fish this along the shore along the reeds and weed line with an intermediate line. It sinks very slowly and stays in the feed zone as you strip, strip, pause.
WATCH THE VIDEO AND LEARN TO TIE DEGALA’S HULA DAMSEL.
Read More »Matt McCannel’s Neon Nightmare
By Bob Reece
When connecting a person and a fish is the foundation of your job, the fly that you use matters. The pattern design as well as the hook that it’s founded upon must both deliver. As a Sage Ambassador, Simms Ambassador, head guide for Rigs Fly Shop and Umpqua Signature Fly Designer, Matt McCannel has built a career out of successfully hooking clients into significant fish. During his journey to this point in his career, Matt has created several highly productive trout flies. One of his most recent creations is the Neon Nightmare Midge.
As a guide in Ridgeway, Colorado, Matt often works on technical tail waters. He needed a midge pattern that incorporated Pink and Orange. This motivation led to the creation of the Neon Nightmare. The incorporation of those colors into a realistic profile has proven itself at catching even the most finicky trout. Its foundation of the Tiemco 2488H hook makes it possible to land those same fish. I carry a dozen of each color in sizes 18-22 on all of my tail water trips. This simple and effective tie should be
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