Rain is good — in more ways than one

Let’s clarify: too much rain is harmful, even dangerous. But that’s not what we’re talking about today. We’re talking about a parched state that was experiencing some form of drought for several weeks. Then the rains came. From the July 4th weather brawl through yesterday, the skies were open for a much-needed watering.

At first, even though the rainfall could be measured in inches, there was no visible impact to our two major fly fishing rivers, the Farmington and the Housatonic. Two factors were in play: the ground was a dry sponge, and the trees and vegetation were in full leaf, meaning you had millions of thirsty plants. But eventually, the rivers got their share. The Hous has yet to spike, rising more than double its 350cfs pre-rain mark. The Farmington experience was more of an exercise in moderation. The Unionville gauge merely doubled from 250. The Still River, which meets the Farmington below Riverton, experienced a huge percentile flow boost. However, it was only coming in at a paltry 15cfs, and its spike didn’t even reach 200cfs.

We desperately needed this rain, and I’m thankful for it. But not just from a systemic ecological point-of-view.

Not that dramatic. Nonetheless, much needed and appreciated.

You see, I’m a total weather and stream flow nerd. I watch the River Data app like a hawk. (If you don’t have this app, get it. River Data provides on-demand access to cfs in select rivers throughout the US, and you can bookmark your favorite watersheds for fast reference.) Throughout the season, I eagerly anticipate rain events that will spike rivers — not too high, not too low. I’m looking for elevated river flows that introduce some amount of color to the water — not chocolate milk, but more like tea. This is when you can experience some of the best nymphing, and especially streamer action of the season. What’s more, water spikes shuffle the deck, move fish around, and provide a respite from warmer water temperatures.

You don’t need to wade very far from the shore. (In extreme cases, that may not be possible. Rules of thumb: never wade in water where you can’t see the bottom; never wade in water that you’re not very familiar with; never wade without a staff and spiked boots; never wade alone.) The fish, like you, aren’t interested in battling swift or raging currents. They’re close to shore, in pockets, behind structure, seeking the most moderate flows that will provide cover and food. In particular, I like to fish streamers in these conditions because the news gets even better: cfs and color spikes are when the big boys come out to play. These are often your best periods to up your chances of catching big fish, and sometimes multiple big fish. I like bigger flies, flies that create a commotion, and I will use both bright and dark colors, usually with equal success.

Use common sense. And enjoy!

Let’s keep the heat on poachers — and what to do when you have no cell signal to call the TIP line

I think we can all agree that poaching is a problem on our precious state waters. Likewise, that the lack of action we so often encounter when we call the TIP (Turn-In-Poachers) line is frustrating as hell.

I know. I’ve encountered poachers many times, and called the TIP line every time. I’ve never had an experience where EnCon roars up and nabs the perps. Still, I keep calling incidents in.

Like Wednesday night. I witnessed two people spin fishing in a Fly Fishing Only area, one of them dragging a loaded garbage bag behind them in the water. My blood was boiling. You’re not supposed to confront poachers, but I did. They looked extremely guilty and hightailed it out of there. I managed to take good descriptions of them and their vehicle make/model/license plate. It’s really too bad I zero cell reception. Still, I called the incident in the next day. Even if nothing happens immediately, calls are recorded, and EnCon has a record of poaching activity to add to their database. Squeaky wheels get the grease. While nothing could be done after the fact, they now have a perp and vehicle description.

All this got me to thinking: this system is broken if you actually can’t turn-in-poachers in real time. So I called EnCon to discuss. They gave me what I think is the best possible solution: head to the nearest state facility with a land line and make your call from there. In the upper Housatonic, this would be Housatonic Meadows campground in Cornwall and Kent Falls park in Kent. On the Farmington, it would be Austin Hawes campground in Pleasant Valley. If the staff won’t let you use the phone, explain the situation and inform them that EnCon has asked you to call the TIP line. Or have them make the call. But make the call. It’s worth it.

Oh. yes: the TIP line number. It’s 800-842-4357. Save it in your phone. And use it.

Back in the saddle, a Farmington first, and other Tuesday Tidbits

I just finished a yummy egg-and-cheese omelet with a side of bacon and a glass of my spicy tomato juice. And, I’m drinking a lovely cup of Columbian coffee with a tiny splash of milk as I write this. That’s right, folks, the colonoscopy is over and we’re eating with a vengeance for the rest of the day. I think perhaps pizza for lunch. Dinner is going to be leftover pulled pork and other trad BBQ sides. What?!? No beer after anesthesia? I’ll have to suffer through. Speaking of which, those of you who have suffered through the 24-hour pre-procedure prep know of which I speak. I mean, I eat five meals a day. For me, no solid food for 36 hours is a Greek tragedy. It’s hydration day, too, and then tomorrow we’re back on the program.

Last week, I guided Sheila and Nikki on the Farmington for a wet fly lesson. We fished the mid-to-lower PTMA. Hatches were light — this was mid afternoon. They both did very well with the method, and Nikki scored a gorgeous mid-teens wild brown on a Partridge and Orange (you can see the fish on my Instagram account @stevecultonflyfishing). This was her first Farmington River trout, and her first on a wet fly. We put one more in the hoop and called it a very successful outing. Great job, ladies! My spies tell me that the PTMA has been fishing well from evening into dark. It’s cornucopia bug season with Sulphurs, Isos, caddis, BWOs, midges, and more. Get on it while it’s hot.

I just finished an article for Surfcasters Journal on the importance — or not — of striper fly color. In addition to my perspective, you’ll glean insights from both surfcaster extraordinaire Toby Lapinski and sight fishing guru Alan Caolo. It’s called “Color Me Curious,” and I’ll let you know when it’s out.

I bought some new shake-and-dry product from UpCountry and will be testing it soon. I have been using Loon’s Top Ride, which I liked. This product is from TMC.

The finger is healing up nicely, as is the ankle. If you are ever in a slice-off-the-tip of your finger and the skin is hanging by a flap, the medical advice is to keep the flap on to cover the wound. Of course, you need to thoroughly clean the wound. While dead or soon to be dead, that skin is a fantastic natural bandage, and I couldn’t be more pleased with the way it healed.

Finally, with this heat dome setting up, please carry a thermometer, use it, and fish responsibly. Carry on. 🙂

Today’s lesson: Don’t be an unprepared idiot when you’re deep in the woods.

I fished the Rose River in Shenandoah National Park on Saturday, and I was a very bad Scout. You know, with the motto “Be Prepared.” I was not. I slipped on a wet rock — the substrate there, while looking very much like the substrate in CT, is far smoother, ergo less purchase — and fell hard. My first reaction in this situation is to protect my rod, which I held in my left hand. I landed hard on my right side, specifically my right outer thigh (where I’m sporting a ~most excellent~ bruise today). I clawed at something to latch onto with my right hand. (You’ll want to skip this part if you’re squeamish.) I got up, feeling the pain in my thigh, and numbness on the ring finger of my right hand. My hand was covered in blood. Great! I ripped off the tip of the finger skin, a good dime size, which was now hanging by a flap.

So, Idiot 1: I left my wading staff in the car. Idiot 2: I had no first aid kit with me. All had was a length of TP that I had had the foresight to bring along. I washed the wound in the creek, then applied some hand sanitizer to it, which was so staggeringly painful I’m getting skeeved just recalling it. I used the TP and pressure to stop the bleeding. But now what? I needed some kind of makeshift bandage. I rummaged through my back pack and was stoked to find a container of band-aids. Having them was sheer luck. This was my steelhead pack, and normally I wouldn’t have them.

Trust me: you don’t even want to see this.

Then, on the way out, as I was stepping out of the river, my right ankle bent at an odd angle. I felt a snap/crackle/pop on the inside of my ankle. This also really hurt, and I feared the worse. How the hell am I going to walk over a mile back to the car with no support (see Idiot#1). Fortunately, it was only some kind of sprain/strain. I was able, after a few minutes, to put weight on my foot. I hobbled back to the parking area. Today, I’m walking only with a slight limp.

I’m still mad at myself for not having some basics for the backcountry: staff, first aid kit, even bug spray, and some kind of signaling device. I’m working on fixing of all of this as you read this. I’ll be posting about what I find and buy in the future. Fishing trips are supposed to be fun, but there are always risks in the wild. There’s no excuse to be so unprepared. Thus chagrinned and self-admonished, here endeth the lesson.

Ticks and Irving

I think we can all agree the late spring though summer is a swell time to be on the water. However, depending on where you fish and how much bushwhacking you’re doing, there are the downsides of ticks and Irving.

“Irving” was the childhood name we gave to poison ivy, AKA poison Irving, or, for those closest to him, Irving. A bad case of Irving was nothing to laugh about. (It still isn’t. I’ve had to get medical treatment twice as an adult for severe Irving outbreaks). But calling it Irving took a little of the edge off the itchy reality. I mention Irving because I will have an Irving rash on my body from now through most of the fall. I seem to contract it just by looking at it. As I write this, it’s on my torso, both legs, and both arms. At least it’s not on any nether parts, which is a kind of discomfort that can only be described as exquisitely cruel. I do my best to avoid it, but it’s become an unfortunate certainty. A good lather up with quality soap on water is the best defense once you’ve been exposed. I’ve used special “poison ivy soap,” but found I get the same results with Lever 2000. YMMV.

Then, there are ticks. I acquired five of these loathsome creatures last week in my garden. They weren’t nearly on me long enough to do any harm, but their ubiquity and disgusting nature makes even brushing them off a skeevy adventure. I’ve gotten in the habit of doing a tick check everywhere on my body when I come in from the river/field/woods. Another practice I started last year was treating my fishing shirts, pants, and hats with permethrin. You spray it on your clothes, let it dry, and it bonds to the fabric for six weeks or six washings.

This is the stuff. Available at Amazon.

Let’s all enjoy the great outdoors. But let’s be careful out there. Maybe next time, I’ll talk about sunscreen and bug spray.

My bizarro Farmington season continues

This is a late report from last week, but it’s a report that I think is worthy of your attention. I fished the evening (virtually non-existent) rise with surfcaster extraordinaire Toby Lapinski at popular dry fly mark within the PTMA. We fished from 4:30pm-9pm. When we arrived, I was delighted to see that there were no other cars in the small dirt parting area; in hindsight, I wonder if it was because everyone else knew something I didn’t.

Here’s the bottom line: the sulphur hatch stunk like a salt marsh at low tide. I’d give it a 1 out of 10. So, that was disappointing. What was even more disappointing was the lack of fish over 8″ long. What was rising was, by and large, small wild fish, mostly brookies, with a few browns in the mix. Now, this could also be considered good news. In fact, I’ve never run into such a substantial pod of wild brook trout on the Farmington. Between us, we easily landed a dozen of them. Once, at dusk, I hooked one, and as it sped into the shallows in a desperate attempt to get free, a larger brown charged out of its hole in hot pursuit. I could see the bulge in the water as the predator neared its target; unfortunately at the last moment, the hunt was aborted. But that was cool to witness, and I wish you could have been there to see it, too!

We only put one decent fish in the hoop, this some-teen wild brown by Toby. It had three bird wounds; you can see one of them on the midway point of the fish’s flank.

I’ve been so busy in the yard this spring that I haven’t been able to get out to the Farmington as much as I’d like. But the rest of the summer is still ahead, in all its lazy, hazy, crazy glory.

Tuesday tidbits: Farmington River, Hatches, Articles, Book

I had a really weird session on the Farmington last Thursday. Despite a robust sulphur emergence — 8.5/10 — the wet fly bite stunk. Turns out it was due to a lack of fish. By my best estimate, this long time favorite pool was holding about 1/4 of the normal trout biomass. I had duns in the air, on the water, cripples galore, then mats of spinners. Instead of a boiling surface, I had….a rise here….and there… and then nothing…and then a lonely rise. It was incredibly discouraging. The feeding was over by 8:45pm, unheard of in these parts. I’m usually picking my way out of the river well after 9pm, crouched over, casting to trout sipping spinners. Not on this night.

On the plus side, I met some very nice anglers, and we shared the water with a most civil energy. Joe was trying to fool this wild brown, but just wasn’t able to connect. When he left, he offered me his spot. Second cast, bang! About 16″. Taken on a size 14 classic Catskills Light Cahill dry.

We are in prime sulphur time, which means you should have some soft hackles in your box. Here’s why:

Sulfurs take a good, long time to emerge from their shucks — and then sometimes, not at all. The trout get a good, long look at the food source as it drifts near the film. I fished this invaria cripple out of the water, and it was one of hundreds that never made it out of its nymphal case. Wet flies and soft hackles are a perfect match and method for this situation, as are dry fly cripple patterns.

I’m going to be writing an article for an upcoming issue of Surfcasters’ Journal. The subject will be the importance (or unimportance) of color in fly patterns. To the keyboard I go!

Finally, I hope to get on my horse and get some info out to everyone who requested a signed copy of the book. I’d like to do that by the end of the month. So stay tuned!

Farmington River Mini Report 6/1/26: June is bustin’ out all over!

It was cold on Monday for June 1, but today we are firmly in a warming trend with great flows (275cfs). I’m anticipating stronger hatches and better fishing.

It wasn’t that way on Monday. I guided Matt and John for the purpose of teaching them the art of wet fly fishing. They’d seen me talk at the Edison Fly Fishing Show, and we’d had this date on the calendar for months. Sadly, we had unseasonably cool weather and a gusty day that held hatch activity to a minimum. We only got two in the hoop, but on another day both anglers would have easily been into double-digits. Strong casting, good mends, hundreds of fish-worthy presentations — I’m really excited for them to experience wet fly fishing at its productive best in the future. Well done, gentlemen!

Not a sulphur, but a Cream Cahill, size 12-14. They’ve been out in decent numbers on the lower river.

After our session I ventured downstream. Very weird evening. I stuck eight trout on wets but had only two hooksets, and landed neither. It was as if the fish couldn’t make up their mind about eating. At 7pm, I switched over to dry flies, and while there were plenty of fish rising, none of them seemed to be in a steady rhythm. I had my best action from 8pm into dark, using creamy colored dries and one big, honking Iso dry.

I’m back to heavy-duty yard work mode, so this will be my only post this week. I’ll try to get back to normal posting next week. In the meantime, fish on. It’s the most wonderful time of the year….

Farmington River Report 5/26 & 5/28/26: Finally, some wet fly action worth writing about!

I guided Jeff, Andrew, and Angelo on Tuesday, and we couldn’t have asked for nicer weather. While Angelo was off exploring parts north solo, Jeff and Andrew headed downriver with me to learn the ways of the wet fly. We began in a snotty boulder field, and right away, Jeff was into a fat, stocked brown. There were caddis and some Cream Cahills in the air, but all of the four trout we put in the hoop took the size 12 SHBHPT. The second mark we hit featured similar water, but we only had one bump in 20 minutes, so we headed north, still in the mid-river, to see if we could find open water. Score! This is a superb run for fishing wet flies, and while the action wasn’t gangbusters, Jeff scored an 18.5″ (taped) wild brown. At this point, Angelo joined us to do some indicator nymphing, sticking one fish. It’s always gratifying to give a wet fly lesson and see your clients rewarded with multiple hits, and having everyone land a trout made it even sweeter. Fantastic job, gentlemen, and it was a pleasure guiding you.

I was downstream with Andrew when Jeff stuck this quality wild brown. Once I saw it was a decent fish, I hustled up with the net so we could enjoy this photo op. Even when you’re in the STMA, you can still find places where wild browns like to hang out.

Last night I fished with surfcaster extraordinaire Toby Lapinski from about 4:45pm into dark, 9pm. We hit the same initial run I took Jeff and Andrew to, and the fish were cooperative. We stuck 8 between us, but I wanted to investigate some favorite water a little bit upstream. We had the entire run to ourselves, and were in position at 5:45pm. The water was significantly lower than Tuesday, 325cfs and dropping, and with the sparse release from the dam, the water reached 64 degrees on the thermometer. The trout seemed to love those conditions. I stuck fish after fish on wet flies, with the runaway favorite being the SHBHPT. I have no idea how many trout I landed — the fishing was that good. The rainbows, in particular, seemed to all believe that they were steelhead. I’ve never had so many fish leap so many times, some of them even after they’d spit the hook. Tremendous sport!

Meanwhile, Toby wasn’t having the same results. But it turns out that he was saving his chips for the dry fly action. At 7pm, while I was still poking around with wets in some faster water, Toby was fishing dries in some more languid pools, and seemingly hooking trout at will. His secret weapon was an Iso dry, and Isonychia were among the bugs we saw (caddis, midges, a few sulphurs, a couple BWOs). I made the switch to dry around 8pm, and once I found some risers, I too got in on the dry fly action. Usuals and Light Cahill dries were my producers.

Thus begins (almost here!) my favorite month on the Farmington.

Stocked brown, but he ate well at the hatchery, and gave me quite the battle. All of last night’s trout were full of piss and vinegar.

From the archives: Partridge and Light Cahill soft hackle

Another super simple tie that can be rendered with common materials. You can add a tail if you like. With creamy mayflies just around the corner, the Partridge and Light Cahill soft hackle is a must-have in your box!

When my roses bloom, creamy mayflies are here soon.