Monthly Archives: September 2025

Farmington last week and now, back to the book

I did two lessons last week on the Farmington. On Tuesday, I took Joe on a wet fly excursion. We stuck to the lower river; at 140cfs, it had the most water, and the weather was cool enough that the water temp never got higher than 66 (3pm). The fishing was predictably slow; we found success by moving around (we fished three different marks) and targeting the deepest, fastest-moving water we could get into. Joe was a strong wader, and sometimes that’s the difference between fishing and catching. Trout love to hang out in places that are difficult for land animals like humans to navigate. Joe stuck four and we put three in the hoop. In difficult low-water conditions, that was pretty darned good.

Joe having at it. As you can see, the clarity of the water was excellent, and when the flows are low, that usually works in favor of the fish. But Joe kept at it, was enthusiastic, and figured out where he needed to put his flies to catch fish. Great job, Joe!

Friday was a different story. We had rain Thursday night, which had me all fired up because it would mean higher flows and a little color in the water. While those conditions manifested, the fishing stunk out loud, which depressed me no end. I guided Dan and Sean, and we spent the bulk of our time nymphing. We stuck to water just below the PTMA; our reward was not another angler in sight. Although we bounced around — we fished four different marks — we could only manage two touches. Bah-phooey on those trout. The good news was that both Dan and Sean showed tremendous improvement over the course of four hours. When you actually see clients getting it, and making better casts, presentations, and mends, it’s very gratifying. Both deserved better than what the river gave them, but they’ll hit right in the future and reap the rewards of their lesson.

~

I’m back on the book, so this will be my only currentseams post this week. The publisher has sent me the galley copy, which is all of their edits in a document, paged format. My job is to read and review and comment. That’s over 300 pages of reading, so I need to hop to it. I’ve only made it through 20 pages, but it’s a happy feeling when you still like what you’ve written so many months ago, and the edits are generally light. AFAIK, The Fly Fishing Guide to the Farmington River is still on track for a June 1 2026 release. Natch’ , I’ll keep you updated with any news as it comes in.

Meanwhile, please do your best rain dance…

Albie and Bonito fishing with Alan Caolo

I’ve known who Alan Caolo was for years. But it wasn’t until I started doing the Fly Fishing Show circuit that I got to meet him and get to know him a little. (He’s a swell guy, pleasant company, and he knows his stuff.) For those of you who don’t know who he is, Alan Caolo (pronounced KAY-lo) is an author and instructor and all-round master of many things salt. He’d been wanting me to go shore fishing with him for False Alabacore and Bonito for a few years now. Last year we missed our connection (and I suspect I was hyper-focused on the book). About ten days ago, the planets aligned, and we were able to meet up.

I’d been fishing for these critters once before, a long time ago, when I was just getting into fly fishing, and had no idea what I was doing in the salt. It wasn’t really my bag; I couldn’t quite yet cast well, and the hit-or-miss nature of the fishing didn’t appeal to me (honestly, it still doesn’t). But now I can cast, and I’ve never caught one of these fish. Plus, I’ve got an expert instructor who wants to get me into fish. Giddyup!

Great minds and all that. I was delighted to see that Alan uses the same reel I do, an old Scientific Anglers System 2 8/9. The shooting basket is mine. Note the electrical tape on my rod; it was my backup safety plan due to a bent flange on my reel and a resulting odd fit into the reel seat. The System 2 makes a delightful, distinctive zinging sound when line peels off the drag. Unfortunately, it was not our lot to hear it on that day.

We arrived at the jetty and secured our spot by 7:30am, with fishing commencing around 15 minutes later. If you’ve never fished for these speedsters from shore, there’s a lot of waiting and, if you choose, blind casting. The blind casting isn’t as crazy as it sounds. Twice, I had albies suddenly materialize near my fly where moments before, there was only a vast expanse of water. I had three shots at fish over the course of an about 6 1/2 hours. The first one I blew. I’m stripping my fly, and then in a blink there was a pod of predators hunting it down. I saw the eat, and that was my downfall, as I jerked the hook right out of the fish’s mouth before the transaction could be completed. The albie was on for perhaps one second, and then it was woulda, shoulda, coulda time.

About an hour later, while retrieving my fly (at a very nice pace, my teacher observed) across the breachway mouth, three fish came racing past us, heading out to sea. Collision course. I felt a bump as one swiped at my fly, but there was no hook purchase. Oh-for-two. My final shot came around 11:30am. We’d seen a boil off the jetty tip. I put my fly out there, and as I brought it in, a telltale bulge appeared in the water behind it. “Almost there…stay on target…almost there….stay on target” (from what movie?). And then, the wake was gone. (Sighs heavily.)

This kind of fishing is not for the impatient or the easily distracted. As with steelheading, or bonefish, or tarpon, you may only get one shot at a fish (Alan didn’t get a single touch all day. But to be fair, he was constantly setting me up in the sweet spots, which I thank him for.) It was a fairly slow day. Two spin anglers below us each hooked up — the only ones we saw all day — but they were covering 5 times as much water, and the sporadic nature of their hookups suggested that they’d lucked into rogue fish. The wind was a challenge, and it’s not for the faint-of-heart caster.

But I’m going to go back, with steely resolve to not to let my coach down again. Thanks again, Alan, for a most enjoyable morning.

Mark your calendars: the International Fly Tying Symposium is Nov. 15 & 16 in Somerset, NJ

The International Fly Tying Symposium is the world’s largest show dedicated to fly tying. And what a show it is! Vendors with all kinds of good stuff (bring a shopping list — I always come away with some nifty items); some of the best-known fly tyers in the world (like Tim Cammissa, Tim Flagler, Barry Clarke, Cheech Pierce, and Son Tao, just to name a few) all ready to meet and greet and answer your questions; live tying demos (free with admission, and I’m doing one of them); seminars (ditto free and me); and tying classes led by experts (you must pre-register here).

My wet fly seminar on Saturday the 15th is unique to the Symposium, so there’s your reason to come. I’ll talk about materials, tying, wet fly styles, and when, where , and how to fish them. It’s the next best thing to a private lesson.
My Sunday 11/16 demo will do two things: show you how to tie four proven, high confidence patterns for this highly technical river, and get you home in time for Sunday afternoon football.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: events like this are a tremendous opportunity learn new techniques, improve your skills, and catch more fish. Please stop by my tying table, or come see me talk, and be sure to say hello.

The Last Blast, Largemouth Style

A few weeks ago, I had one of my more meaningful fishing outings in recent memory. It was a reunion with one of my church youth group leaders, Mark Bieber, who, after my high school years, became a fishing buddy. At that point in my life, I was a spin-only angler, as was Mark. We’d sometimes fish from land, but most of the time it was from Mark’s rowboat or canoe. Our quarry ranged from carp to largemouth bass to pike to channel cats, and we fished in places like the coves of the Connecticut River and the old claypit ponds in Berlin. Life happened, and we eventually stopped fishing together. But we always kept in touch; Mark and his wife Sharyn came to our wedding. Both were strong influences on me.

I think we can all agree that forty years is quite a long time to not fish together. So, dammit, we fixed that. Our happy fishing reunion/outing took place on a cool, sunny, breezy August afternoon, not the best conditions for largemouth bass fishing, but then again, catching fish was not the prime directive. We fished Dunning Lake at Winding Trails in Farmington, Mark with his spin rod and rubber worms, me with my fly rod and bass bugs. The conversation flowed, just like it did 40 years ago, from Bob Dylan to women to fishing to my book to retirement to getting older to more fishing, all while we both savored a wonderful cigar.

Mark got on the board first. Not a giant, but I have yet to meet a largemouth bass of any size that won’t eat a rubber worm.
Even if I held this critter out at arm’s length, it would still be small. I admired this guy’s spirit: he hunted down my crayfish, nipped at it twice, then ate it, cartwheeling out of the water when I set the hook. Old friends, smiles, cigars, and fishing. Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about. We declared the outing to have been most excellent, and agreed to do it again in the spring. I already have the cigars picked out.

ASMFC Draft Addendum III to Amendment 7 For Dummies

About ten years ago, there was a phenomenon experienced by football fans known as “Patriots fatigue.” Always on TV, always the darling of analysts, hard to like, frequently winning in ways that defied mathematical probability or opposing coach logic (Super Bowl LI, anyone?).

I have ASMFC fatigue.

Another draft addendum, another public comment period, another chance for the rogue states of New Jersey, Maryland, and Delaware to behave stupidly, blah-blah-blah-blah-blah. (Insert heavy sigh here.)

If the bass closes its eyes, will it look like it’s yawning?

Nonetheless, we must do our duty and voice our opinion. The goal of all of this is to improve the SSB, or Spawing Stock Biomass. No SSB, no future stripers. Here are the two simple things you need to do. It’ll take you 15 minutes.

First, go to the ASGA website for the conservation-based opinion on what to comment. (Look for the heading “Proposed Management Options in Addendum III). Two, email your comments to the ASMFC. The following is from their website: “The public is encouraged to submit comments regarding the proposed management options in this document at any time during the addendum process. There are four ways to submit comments, written comments via this page or the comment@asmfc.org email below, the public comment form, mailed written comments, or attend a public hearing. The final date comments will be accepted is Friday, October 3 at 11:59 p.m. EST.“

 

Montana, Part II: The Kootenai Smudge

Unless you’re a setback player, you’re very likely puzzled by the author’s intriguing choice of a headline. For you non-card-types, a smudge is a bid where you declare that you will not only make all four points, but also win every trick (when each player reveals a card they’re holding). Smudges are rare, and if you’re lucky to make one, you get five points.

So, if catching three different species of fish is a hat trick and four is a grand slam, what’s a five different species? Pentachamacallit? So smudge it is. And on my second day of fishing the Kootenai (pronounced KOOT-en-ee by the locals), I scored a smudge.

This was a day that I fished solo, under the capable guidance of my guide Jeff from Dave Blackburn’s Kootenai Angler. We floated a different section of river, starting below the town of Libby. While the river is still wide and overhead-deep in many areas, there’s a lot more gravelly structure, pocket water, and whitewater pools. I far preferred it over the section we’d fished the day before. We did a little bit of everything: wet flies, dry-dropper, nymphing, streamers. It turned out to be a smudge-tastic day.

Let’s start with our new old buddy, the Kootenai Redband Rainbow trout. The ones I connected with — and they were plentiful — were generally under a foot long. Nonetheless, they were spunky and frantic when hooked, and I can’t even begin to describe their breathtakingly beautiful flanks adorned with delicate parr marks.
It’s a sucker! It’s a bonefish! No, wait. It’s a northern whitefish, native to these parts. Despite their appearance, whitefish are a salmonid. Every one I hooked was taken on a nymph. This was the biggest one by far, and she gave me a good tussle. Two down.
On this day, I hooked and landed my first cutthroat trout. Consider me a fan. Another native fish, these are beautifully colored and look like someone took a fine point black Sharpie to their sides as an exercise in minimalism. This fish was an epic eat. We were fishing western style, pounding the banks with a hopper-dropper, when we approached a grove of trees with overhanging branches that nearly touched the waterline. Naturally, the sweet spot of the run was beneath the branches. I made a cast, and began mending, dropping my rod tip nearly into the water so the floating line would clear the branches. Three…two…one…and whack! She ate the hopper right where we thought she’d be. That’s one take I wish I had on film.
A few minutes later, I asked Jeff what that green thing in the water was. As we got closer, we could see it was a hopper going for a swim. We fished him out of the water and put him on the oar to dry off. We were going to use him for a science experiment, but before we could send him on his way, he decided to go for another swim. I haven’t seen many hoppers in the water, but this was proof that it does happen — and the way this thing was struggling, it’s not surprising that they get eaten. My fourth species was a pikeminnow. Sadly, no photo. But before you laugh at the noun “minnow,” you should know that they grow over two feet long! Mine was about 18″. Pikeminnow are a member of the dace family.
If you look under the maxillary, you can see the reddish band that gives the cutthroat trout its name.
Ooh. Ahh. Ohh. To complete the smudge, I offer you the cutbow. As its name suggests, it’s a cross between a rainbow trout and a cutthroat trout, with characteristics of each. I was fortunate to be able to tangle with a half dozen of these gorgeous creatures. Is it time to go back to Montana yet?

Farmington River Report early September: a wet fly lesson, broodstock sampling, challenging conditions

I guided — we’ll call him “Bob” because he’s in incognito mode — last Thursday. We did a little dry fly and a lot of wet fly. The Farmington can be a highly technical dry fly arena, and sometimes it comes down a perfect drift and a little luck. But a good starting place is a long leader. I was happy to see that Bob was using a 13-foot minimum line-to-fly leader/tippet length. We added a couple more feet of 6x and had at it. Unfortunately, we missed the Trico spinner fall, but we did manage some practice, and by the time we made the decision to go to wets, Bobs drifts were noticeably better.

We spent the next six hours on classroom, then banging around the PTMA, as well as above and below it. Like many people who take a wet fly lesson with me, Bob had to learn to wait a few beats — “Are you still there?” — after the hit to let the trout hook itself. We missed a handful of strikes, but stuck four and landed three, which was pretty darned good under some tough conditions. Low water/seasonal hint: all of our hookup came in fast, bubbling water.

A lovely wild brown from the PTMA, taken by Bob on my Drowned Ant soft hackle. And on the first cast! At first, Bob thought he was hung up on a boulder. But boulders don’t shake their heads…

Which brings us to the conditions. We’re out of meteorological summer, and the water is running clear and low. Because of the drought, the trees are behaving like it’s fall, turning color and especially shedding leaves. On windy days from now until the trees are bare, expect organic matter to be blowing into the river. Leaves were a constant challenge for us on this gusty day. The trout and bugs are also in a transition. Most of what’s hatching is very small (there are exceptions, like Isonychia). The trout are getting into pre-spawn mode. This adds up to more frequent windows where fish are much harder to catch. Bob was the only angler I saw land a fish on Thursday, and we encountered multiple anglers who were astonished by our success. Well done, Bob!

But wait, there’s more. Normally, the slug of rain we received over the weekend would mix things up a bit. However, Tuesday through Thursday this week, the CT DEEP will be drawing down the dam release to do their annual broodstock sampling. You can still fish the river, but vast stretches will be rendered as rock gardens. If you do fish, please give the sampling crews a wide berth. Things should be back to normal by Friday.

However, that normal will still mean challenging fishing — which makes every trout you land even sweeter. Catch ’em up!

First week of September Potpourri: Speaking, Guiding, Book, Flows….

Just when you think you’re going to have more time to do writing…you don’t. I have to confess that I didn’t take into account that I would be this busy with non-fishing pursuits, but here we are. It’s mostly yard-home-garden-kitchen — ’tis the season for drying hot peppers, and making tomato and hot sauces — like the tides, ripe fruits wait for no one — and that’s the current situation. Still, I have much to talk about.

If you’re the person in charge of booking speakers for your fly fishing club, I have openings this fall and winter. You can find my presentation menu here. Be advised that when the Fly Fishing Guide to the Farmington River is published next year, I will want to come out and speak to your group about the book and the river. Something to look forward to!

I’m booked for the rest of the month with guide trips. Thanks to everyone who reached out! We are in rainfall deficit, so they’ve dropped the flow out of the Hogback gate to 165cfs. Note the release temperatures, and how they increase during the day (these readings are in Riverton, not at the gate). Be aware of water temps downstream. You should be OK through the PTMA, but carry and use your thermometer.

I’m supposed to get copy galleys for the book — this will be what the publisher has edited, in document form — mid-month. After I make comments, it goes back to them. It’s all very exciting. I’ll be locked away in my lonely writer’s garret that week, but if you see me on the river the other weeks, please say hello.

Next up will be the Montana trip, Part 2.