Author Archives: Steve Culton

Block Island Report July 2023: The downward spiral continues

It’s a warm, humid Block Island night, the kind you get in early summer when the mainland is baking. Dark of the moon. Surf on the low side of moderate, but enough to create a wash zone and necessitate mends over the tops of incoming waves. I’ve scoured the trough of this beach for over an hour with a Big Eelie, and made the decision that it’s not happening. I glance at my watch. 11:25pm. Normally, I’d be all fired up, knowing that if there are no bass here, they’ll be somewhere else, and — best of all — I have another two hours to fish. Maybe three, if the bite is good. But I’m about to do something extraordinary. I catch the fly in the hook holder, reel up, and head back to the Jeep. I’m done. Heading back to the cottage.

What’s extraordinary about this is that in all my decades of fishing Block Island, I’ve never quit a night session before midnight.

This makes three consecutive years of disappointing fishing from the shore on Block Island, and this was the worst by far. The story is one I could tell you in numbers: Seven nights. Five striped bass. Four skunks (six if you count my two daytime sight fishing blanks). No fish over 22″. And the third straight year I’ve failed to land a bass of 10 pounds of better.

What’s behind all this? I can give you my best guesses. A burgeoning grey seal population. Warming inshore waters. Bass that never showed up inshore in numbers in June, so why would they show up now? An abundance of food and cooler water offshore. Dwindling striper stocks. I can tell tell you with fierce conviction that the patterns from ten years ago are a distant, bittersweet memory. Fish are aren’t where they were a decade ago (and don’t get me started on 15-20 years ago). It’s enough to make me heave a rueful sigh.

It’s not for lack of bait. Crabs everywhere. More sand eels than I’ve seen in recent summers, although they were much smaller (1″-2″) than usual. Squid galore. In fact, four nights into the trip, I’d landed as many squid as bass. To amuse myself, I turned on my light and watched the squid attack my sand eel fly. Squid generally muddle along, but their closing speed is impressive.
And the bite is not. I sight fished two days on Crescent Beach and blanked on both. The first day I only saw a total of six cruising targets, and some of those may have been the same fish. The second day, in 90 minutes, I didn’t see a single bass(!). Really? Then there was plain old bad luck. I had confirmed reports of smaller bass blitzing sand eels at dusk on two consecutive nights. The first night, I’d gotten a late start, and I caught the last remaining bass of that feed. The next night, I missed it entirely. Not to be denied, I showed up at the mark the third night ready to fish at 8:30pm. Same tide window, same wind direction, same barometer, and…nothing. No bass, no blitz. You really can’t make this garbage up.
A rocky point, structure, and wash over a sandy bottom holding bait. Scouting mission complete, I headed back after dark to fish the same tide. 15 years ago, I’d be posting pictures of one of the 20-pounders I released. This year, you get a nice seascape. That’s all there is to see here, folks.
Mr. Dour out for an evening stroll. By the end of the week, I was rationalizing my existence by viewing my time as enjoying a good cigar, and oh, by the way, I’ll also be doing this casting and mending thing, too. Mid-week, there was a Steve Culton sighting. An angler was coming out as I was going in, and exclaimed, “I know you! You’re the Block Island fly fishing guy. Steve.” Turns out he’d never fished the Island before, and came across some of the articles I’d written while doing a search. As always, if you see me out and about, please come say hello.
I highly recommend ‘Gansett tall boys, fresh steamers, and Ballard’s famous lobster as a consolation prize. And don’t forget Aldo’s ice cream!

Farmington River update: flows and land and maybe some non-sucky news for a change

Happy Monday. This morning, Hogback dam is still pumping out nearly 1.2K. According to Torrey Collins, 50cfs is coming from the bottom and the bulk from the over-the-top-spillway. The upshot is a lot of water leaving the reservoir, and not much of it cold. If you choose to fish, please be vigilant about water temperature — and of course, be careful!

As far as the flows getting back to normal: this water dump will continue until the reservoir reaches a level deemed safe by the Army Corps of Engineers. Meanwhile, the CT DPH has ruled that the MDC can be released from their drinking water obligation. This is encouraging as it means the MDC gets their way, and should no longer have a reason to be a dick about releasing a minimal amount of water. But “should” doesn’t mean “can,” or even “will.” Once the ACE determines the reservoir as at a proper level, we’ll see what the MDC does with the bottom release flows. For now, I like that the MDC is releasing only a minimal amount from the bottom, as this will help with restratification. Stay tuned on this one.

So, how about some confirmed good news? The MDC has agreed to a conservation easement that will assure 5,500 acres of land around the watershed will remain undeveloped. You can read more about that here and here.

Up next: the Block Island report.

Let’s try to keep it that way!

Mark your calendars for The Fly Fishing Show in January 2024!

I know, I know, it’s July. It’s hot and the sun is shining and even though your favorite river may be blown out, we’re all still thinking about — if not actually doing — fly fishing. Since it’s never too early to plan, mark your calendars for the 2024 Fly Fishing Show in Marlborough and Edison. Note the new time frame for Marlborough — it’s earlier in the month than usual. I don’t have a schedule yet, but assume I’ll be doing talks and classes and demos as usual. I’ll likely be in Marlborough all three days and in Edison Friday & Saturday. Hope to see you there!

Back from Block, water woes, and a lost season

I feel like my current fishing world can be best summed up by Ray Davies, who wrote, “The news was so bad that I fell out of bed.”

The fishing on Block was soul-crushingly bad. This is the third straight down year, and I felt lucky to have landed five stripers in seven nights. (Yes, you read that correctly.) Four skunks in the mix. (Really?) My biggest fish was 22″, bringing my streak of not landing a keeper or better to three years. How far that shore fishery has fallen!

Back on the home front, Mother Nature and the MDC are wreaking havoc upon the Farmington River. A couple days from now is my traditional date to go fish the dorothea at a favorite mark, but that’s obviously not going to happen. To add insult to injury, I’ve had to cancel both wet fly lessons scheduled for this week.

Normally, I’d console myself by heading to the Housatonic, but that river is also experiencing catastrophic water levels. No smallmouth for you! And no smallmouth for me, either. The white fly hatch will come and go, and none of us will be able to enjoy fishing it. Maybe the Hous will come down to a dry/wet fly fishable level in 2-3 weeks. That’s assuming we don’t get pounded by rain…again. This is now four consecutive alternating years of flood, then drought. It’s the new normal, and it sucks for all of us. What’s worse, it can’t be good for the ecosystem. Would a happy medium be too much to ask? Perhaps the silver lining will be more trout holding over to this fall. We shall see.

Bloody hell! 5,500cfs is a long way from being even remotely fishable.

Finally, good reader, I must apologize for all this doom and gloom. I try to be a positive force, but I also feel compelled to tell it like it is. I suppose I could use this time to prep my fall striper box, or my winter nymph box, or even get a head start on some steelhead flies. Maybe some bluegills down at the pond on Elk Hair Caddis and a six-foot glass rod would cheer me up? Now there’s a thought…

Eventually, I got off my butt and filled my summer striper boxes

Everything was a little late this year, including me. Striper fly-wise, I’m all set for summer. Now I just gotta find the time to get out there!

I don’t hold my box this way — it’s a 180-degree swing — so this is a little bass ackwards. On the left, top row, are my larger squid and some surface action flies. Beneath them, unseen, are medium to small squid, baitfish, and then much smaller forage. On the right side , top, my Big Eelies in descending dark-to-lighter. Unseen, underneath, smaller sparser sand eels, and then grass shrimp, clamwoms, and truly tiny stuff like The Tick.
I don’t do a lot of daytime beach sight fishing, but I want a few staples at the ready in case I do. These are all weighted — one of the few times I’ll consider using weighted flies for stripers — from bead chain to dumbbells. Left side, second from right is Mark Giacobba’s Blue Claw. I caught my first snook on that pattern. Guess what? It works on New England stripers, too.

Revisiting a summer classic wet fly: the Drowned Ant Soft Hackle

It’s been a few years since I first published the Steve Culton’s Drowned Ant tying video, and with so many new subscribers — particularly those of you who have a keen interest in wet flies — this seemed like a good time to revisit the pattern. I like this as my middle dropper on summer team of three wets. To the vise!

You can read my original post on the Drowned Ant Soft Hackle here.

Steve Culton at the International Fly Tying Symposium, Somerset, NJ, Nov 11-12, 2023

Once again, I’ll be appearing as a celebrity tier at the 32nd International Fly Tying Symposium. That means in addition to having a tying table on the main floor, I’ll potentially be leading classes, teaching seminars, and appearing as a featured tier. I don’t have any details yet, other than to tell you that my contract is signed and in the mail. Once I find out more, I’ll let you know here.

Here’s what I do know: the IFTS is at the Doubletree by Hilton Somerset Hotel and Conference Center. The dates are Saturday, November 11 and Sunday, November 12, 2023. Last year’s show was a blast; you get vendors, tiers, and the chance to see some of the most talented people in fly tying do their thing. Classes are $80; seminars are included in the price of your ticket. Pen those dates in your calendar now!

Of high water, lemonade, and filthy lucre

Yeah, I thought that headline would suck you in.

If you woke up this morning and checked the Riverton gauge, you were greeted to the incredible sight of 1070cfs (now 1240cfs). This, of course, is due to the MDC, under the direction of the Army Corps of Engineers, needing to bleed water from an overfilled reservoir. We’ve been pounded with excessive rain in the last week, which is a good thing. Or is it?

It’s tricky. On the lemonade side, we have water volume just at the right time. 68cfs and an oppressive heat wave do not make a good mix for the survival of trout. From that perspective, this is a good thing. On the lemon side, we have an unusually high water dump that cannot be sustained. Those of us familiar with the total disregard the water gatekeepers have for the natural resource can easily imagine a sudden, catastrophic drop in water levels that will no doubt do damage to trout and invertebrates. The question must be asked: Could you not have released a steady 250cfs, the average release, for the entire month of June, with your already near-full reservoir, thereby avoiding this wasteful dump? (We’ll get to that answer in a moment.)

One thing is certain: a sustained 1K+ water dump is going to hemorrhage irreplaceable stores of cold water. In just one week, we’ve gained 5 degrees of released water temperature:

That sub-50 degree water isn’t coming back until we get some very cool fall nights. The reservoir simply cannot re-stratify in the heat of summer. It’s happened in recent years: the flow from the dam is robust, but it’s coming out at temperatures that are close or at the stressful threshhold for trout.

Never was this resource so ridiculously managed, and it’s all because of money. In what has to be one of the most absurd contracts in the history of water management, the MDC actually saves money by ignoring requests from downstream stakeholders for increased flow. At a recent meeting, the MDC head stated that they currently have no mechanism for releasing more water than the legal minimum or what the Army Corps orders for flood control. That’s not entirely true. They can release water called for for power generation downstream — and pay a fee of $1 million to do so — or ignore such requests and pay a fee of $250K. So MDC has decided to keep their $750K and screw everyone else who uses the river for recreation, screw the wildlife, and screw those of us who depend on the river for income.

To that last point: I should be on my way to the river right now to give a wet fly lesson, but I’m not. I had to cancel. So, I’m out a guide fee today. It’s not that big a deal to me. Because unlike the MDC, I’m not completely beholden to profit.

Farmington River Flow Update: And then, there was water

No, you’re not seeing things. Yes, there is water again in the PTMA and even in Unionville. Last Monday, the upper Farmington River, its reservoirs, and watershed in southern MA got deluged, with some areas receiving inches of rain. Now that the Colebrook Reservoir is at 100% capacity, the Army Corps of Engineers has instructed the MDC to dump water and reduce the level. That’s why the gauge looks like this:

While this is better than the paltry 60cfs MDC was releasing, it’s a perfect illustration of how poorly this resource is managed. Instead of dumping 340 extra cfs of water en masse, why couldn’t the flows have been set to 150cfs for weeks? Better yet, how about the historical median flow? You know what’s going to happen next: the flows will go back to a trickle, and we’ll have the Farmington Rock Garden River. Again. There is no word on when those flows will be cut, but it is surely coming. So get out and enjoy the water while you can.

I’m still waiting to get you some better information on how this will all shake out, and what can be done about it. There are forces at work for better stewardship of the river. Stay tuned.

Farmington River Report 6/27 & 28: Low Flows and Project Healing Waters

I was both humbled and honored to have the opportunity to guide three groups from Project Healing Waters. Over the course of two days, we fished, learned, talked, and just plain enjoyed being out on the water. On Tuesday afternoon, I did a streamside classroom for everybody, Wet Flies 101. OK, to be technical, it was at a picnic table at their campsite, but you could hear the river, so that counts for something.

This was the day after those torrential rains, so I gave the first group the option of streamers below the Still River or wet flies above Riverton. Option B was the choice, and off we went. That section was, not surprisingly, loaded with anglers. (Many thanks to those who shared the water both days and were so giving once they learned who we were and what we were doing. True, small kindness is vastly underrated.) The water was bracingly cold, and we had between 70-80cfs of flow to work with — not great, but doable. We found a few fish willing to jump on, but as I heard from the guys multiple times, it really isn’t about putting fish in the hoop. And in this case, they’re mighty right.

Not a bad day at the office! Time flies when you’re having fun, and on both days I frequently lost track of time.

For Wednesday AM, we stuck close to home, fishing water adjacent to the campground. The river had come down a bit, and cleared some, but we still had the challenge of mid-day summer fishing. Nonetheless, by covering water as best we could, we found a few feeding fish. The warmth of the sun on our shoulders and the cool of the river at our feet reminded us that were in a really good place. I had the group fishing a two-fly wet fly team, a fine compromise when not everyone is a great caster. Hatch activity on both days was minimal, and with the recent down and then up flows, I’m sure the insects were as discombobulated as we were.

We finished up Wednesday above the Still River in some gorgeous dry fly water. So, naturally, I suggested we fish dries. I rigged everyone up with a long leader system — minimum 13 feet — and we had at it. What a fantastic job this group did in some fairly technical water. While the trout were feeding — somewhat irregularly on emergers, but mostly spinners, the hatch (sulphurs size 14-16) wasn’t going to break any records for volume. But we stuck with it, and before too long, my man Guppy connected with a nice rainbow on a size 20 Usual.

I’d just seen a trout nail a skittering sulphur on top, so when Guppy’s fly began to drag at drift’s end, I told him to let it be. Moments later, whack! How exhilarating when it all works out just like you drew it up in your mind.

I stayed to fish after our session, but the evening rise never materialized in any big way. There were far more emergers and duns in the late afternoon than in the evening, and no spinner fall to speak of. I managed to stick three trout in about two hours. When I climbed out of the river at 9pm, my legs felt like cold, semi-unresponsive lumps. I was shivering. The fishing had been disappointing. But it hadn’t rained. It hadn’t stormed. And I realized that just being there did indeed count for something.