Category Archives: Fishing Reports

Meanwhile, up north in Pulaski…

…my spies tell me it’s good news/not-so-good news. The good: after a couple very down years, the 2016 salmon run has been strong. Here’s a quote from a local guide: “I thought that it would be a good run this year but it has far exceeded expectations.” More good: the watershed received several inches of much needed rain last week. The river jacked up to 2K; current level at Pineville is just over 700cfs. Everyone’s different, but I like higher water for this fishery. A strong salmon run means more eggs and rotting carcasses in the system, so right now is a good time to be tying up some egg and flesh patterns (and of course your favorite nymphs).

Now to the not-so-good: where are the steelhead? Those of us who remember the cruel disaster than was last year’s “run” are eager to return to the halcyon days of prodigious numbers of pre-spawn chrome. So far, that has not happened. Hopefully the next few weeks will see a big push of fish. Otherwise, we may be in for another long, cold, lonely winter.

Come back, baby!

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Midnight on the Water in Rhode Island

No sightings of the ocean’s daughter. But I did spend some time watching a small pod of stripers move and feed on the tide change. We’ll get to that in a minute.

In the space of three hours, I managed to fish: skinny water on the incoming and outgoing; under a bridge (I love shadow lines at night); the inside of a salt pond; an estuary on a ripping incoming tide; and a snotty beachfront from a jetty. I fished hard and I fished well, and I dearly wish I could tell you that I slayed ’em, but all I could manage was one dink and a few courtesy bumps.

The outside beach continues to vex me. Conditions off the jetty last night were just about perfect:  a good SSW breeze, substantial breakers, surging whitewater wash. But no predators. This particular spot is a serial disappointment; it used to be an I-need-to-catch-a-striper-so-I’ll-fish-here destination. 2016 makes it 4 consecutive years I’ve blanked at it.

The bridge, the estuary, and the salt pond were good places to fish if you wanted to hook weeds. I did not want to, but managed a prodigious haul of vegetal flotsam.

My only bass came on my second cast of the evening on the incoming. After, I drove around to explore the other places, then spent the last hour alternately casting to and watching a small pod of school bass drift into position at the turn of the tide (it was easy to see them in the bright moonlight). But the bait wasn’t there in any volume, and the stripers didn’t bother to stick around.

And once the clock hit the wee small hours, neither did I.

There. That’s what I’m talking about. Failed experiment in night photography aside, that whitewater wash bottom center is prime real estate for casting your fly. The jetty allows you to fish into the pocket formed by the rocks and sand, not to mention a good parallel shot to the trough just off the beach. When the bass are in there, you find yourself in tight line territory pretty fast.

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Farmington River Report: Nature finds a way

In the interest of some informal field research for the DEEP — not to mention my own curiosity — I did a little recon yesterday on a part of the river where the fish would have faced significant stress in the last 50 days. I purposefully went in the afternoon, when the water temperatures would be highest. I wanted to know if, on an unseasonably warm September day, the water temps would be below 70. If they weren’t, I would not fish. Most of all, I wanted to know if anyone made it through the long, hot summer. I visited three locations, staggered downstream at varying distances. Spot A was 67 degrees; Spots B & C were a hard 68.

I found active, healthy fish in all three places. I nymphed up a nice, fat brown, over a foot long, in the first location. He was in the net before he knew what hit him. One quick digital shot and back he went. There were two trout actively feeding on emergers in the second spot; I gave them a few quasi-wet presentations with un unweighted nymph rig, had a bump, and left them to their feeding. Ironically, the spot farthest downstream had the most action: three active feeders. Wanting to err on the side of caution, I didn’t bother trying to catch them.

To be safe, I would wait another week before venturing below the permanent TMA. We’re supposed to have some cooler temps, both day and night, after today. Most of all, a week will give the trout a chance to restore their vigor.

Looks like we made it! This guy was hanging out in about 18″ of whitewater right below a boulder. He took a size 18 soft-hackled Pheasant Tail.

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Farmington River sampling, stocking, and spawning, or: we really, really need rain

Yesterday’s rain was nice for the garden, but it was statistically insignificant for the Farmington River. Our favorite trout water continues to be battered by low flows (60cfs out of the dam as of this morning) and unseasonably warm temperatures. If you decide to fish, please use common sense.

To the trout: DEEP crews sampled the river last week. They extracted 99 browns from the permanent TMA for Farmington River Survivor Strain broodstock. These aren’t all necessarily big, wild fish — the goal is genetic elasticity, so there is a mix of sizes covering both wild and holdover fish. I spoke with Fisheries Biologist Neal Hagstrom today, who said there were “a fair number of wild fish. The holdover Survivors didn’t look as plump as I would have liked, but not as bad as I had feared.”

In past years, the post-spawn Survivor Strain broodstock have been reconditioned, then returned to the river. But Neal told me there is some discussion about keeping those fish in-house for genetic insurance until flows become more stable. (If I may editorialize, that sounds like a damn good idea.) There is also concern that the current low flows will inhibit natural spawning this fall. Likewise, a spike in flows would be bad, as it might cause the fish to create redds in unsustainable locations. How this all will play out, only Mother Nature knows.

Once water temperatures enter more trout-friendly strata, the DEEP will restock the lower river with yearling trout (7″-9″). “Hopefully, this will help rebuild the lower river trout population,” says Neal.

Kudos to the DEEP for everything they do for the trout and the river. 

Likewise to the MDC, who have done everything they can to maintain flows. Let’s not forget that the MDC’s first priority is to supply potable water to the community. That we still have cold water and healthy trout in an officially severe drought is a blessing.

So, go out and do a rain dance when no one’s looking, and remember — it’s only stupid if it doesn’t work.

Hang in there, dude. Help is on the way.

Brown release

 

 

Shocking news from the DEEP (2016)

The DEEP will be conducting its annual electroshocking/brood stock collection tomorrow, Tuesday, September 13. The following, in italics, is from an email I received from Fisheries Biologist Neal Hagstrom:

Housy Smallmouth Report: And then there were none

That inflammatory title doesn’t refer to the fish — plenty of Micropterus dolomieu to go around — but rather to the number of big, classic Connecticut fly fishing rivers currently with flows in the triple digits of cfs.

While neither extreme is preferable, I really don’t enjoy fishing in low water. Like the Farmington, the Hous (96cfs, 75 degrees) is rapidly becoming a featureless rock garden. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like Hermine is going to give us even a temporary respite (I understand that going back to 2015, our state is at a 14-inch rain deficit). And so we carry on.

But enough of the negative waves.

Yesterday was a good day for a little father-sons wet-wading fly fishing for smallies expedition. Here are a few shots from Dad’s brag book.

Cam’s on! Cam says: “These things fight like little steelhead.”

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Gordo’s on! Gordo says: “Why do they keep jumping out of the water?” This smallie gave us two spectacular aerials.

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Today’s special: Crayfish. Half-off.

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Housy smallmouth: The hits just keep on coming

The Farmington continues to struggle with low flows. I spoke with an angler today who fished it recently, and he said he was so discouraged by the water levels that he left after 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, in another part of the state, the upper TMA section of the Hous was flowing at just over 200cfs, and 74 degrees. Fine conditions for an evening of wading and casting for smallmouth bass. Things started off slow — I began at 6:45pm in a section I’ve hit repeatedly, but has not produced numbers or size. I’m at a loss to explain why. It’s deep, it’s got moving water, and lots of boulders. All that’s really missing is a sign that says “Get Your Smallies Here!” Nontheless, two unremarkable bumps were all I could manage.

However, Honey Hole 1 (my name for it) continues to impress. It’s a fairly nondescript run, but it has held a good number of decent sized bass every time I’ve fished it. By 8pm I was working my way downriver to Honey Hole 2 (see parens above). HH2 fished a little differently in the higher water — the fish were more widely spread out than in previous trips. Here are a few notes from last night:

Unlike trout, smallies rising to flies will crush a big streamer thrown in their general direction. I caught countless bass last night at dusk by simply aiming for rise rings.

A larger fly doesn’t necessarily cull the smaller fish. I’m still trying to understand how some of the little guys I landed got a 4x long size 2 streamer hook entirely into their mouth.

Like with trout, the action seems to taper off at dark. Hatch over, time for a feeding break? I’d like to stay well past dark one of these nights and see if the action picks up.

Housy smallies love sunken streamers as well as waking surface flies.

I’m continuing to test a prototype of a floating version of the Deep Threat. (Once semi-perfected, I’ll post it.) So far, so good. Wait. Make that very good.

“Is that the foot-long?” “And then some.” (Bonus points if you can name the cheesy 80s comedy those lines come from. Hint: it stars a future Oscar winner.) This was my best bass of the night, coming in at 13 inches, a very respectable size for this river. He threw acrobatic leaps and generally obstreperous behavior into the bargain.

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Farmington River thermal refuge establishment/closures

I like how the DEEP’s email was worded, so I won’t change it: “The warm summer weather and long-term lack of meaningful rainfall have produced conditions that are not favorable for trout within parts of the West Branch Farmington River.”

Below is a link to a pdf of the new regs.

2016 FarmingtonR refuge closures declaration 08-18-2016

Or, you could just do what I’m doing right now, which is: give the trout a break and seek your angling pleasures elsewhere.

We could all use a little water right about now.

A little water, please

 

Housy Smallmouth Report: Gluttons for punishment

It would be safe to say that smallmouth on the fly is a current addiction. Back for more last night, a shorter session at three hours (6pm-9pm), and quite different from Monday’s.

For starters, the water was up a wee bit (180 cfs and rising) and perhaps had a bit more color. While not Africa hot, the air was rain forest humid. I got soaked just walking from the truck to the river. And the overall action was off, in terms of general size and numbers. But yessiree Bob, it was still good.

How to tell it’s summertime by the river. We get these along the Farmington, too.

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The surface action window was brief, about a half hour, and I didn’t even bother trying to fish with classic dry flies. I saw a few caddis and a handful of white flies (and the ever-present midges) — clearly the smallies were keyed on emerging bugs. I sat on a rock, enjoying my cigar, and as it got dark I went to work on some risers with a size 6 olive Zoo Cougar. That was fun, but for me the main event would be testing a prototype surface bug I’ve been working on, a floating/neutrally buoyant version of the Deep Threat, size 4. (More once I get it ironed out.) On it went, and….nothing. And more nothing. Finally, a respectable bass. Then another, a little bigger. I saw a splashy rise down the pool and parked the fly over it on my next cast.

KA-BLAM!!! It was one of those takes where you knew you had a good fish on from the moment the transaction went down. As soon as I came tight to the bass he went airborne. I cackled out loud, which you can do with impunity when you’re alone on a river. Thrust and parry, thrust and parry, my forearm burning with fatigue. (This is surely why God created 0x leaders.) And there he was. A smallmouth you could measure in pounds instead of inches. (Yeah, I know, low pounds, but please let me have my moment of glory unmolested.)

I’ve now landed a mid-teens Housy smallmouth and a mid-teens Farmington wild brown, and I gotta tell you, with all due respect to Salmo trutta, that it’s not even a contest when it comes to battle skills. 

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So, the new fly works.

It’s probably not a wise decision to do an impromptu victory dance while you’re wading out of a river in the dark. But I couldn’t resist.

 

Housy Smallmouth Report: Crazy 8s

Yesterday was 8/8/16, a nice bit of numerology even if you’re not mathematically inclined. (For the record, I am not. But I do love and am attuned to numbers.) Water flow was a low 178cfs, voluminous compared to the current trickle that is the Farmington. And warm. Mid-to-upper 70s warm. (I can confirm this from personal sampling as I managed to fall into the river twice. A treacherous wade, that TMA.) There is something to be said about the cooling effects of wet wading inside your breathable Simms on a hot, sunny day.

To the fishing. I am not long on smallie experience, but I am a quick study. Here’s what I can tell you.

I fished from the general area of the West Cornwall covered bridge down to the Rt. 7 bridge. Six hours, 3pm-9pm. My M.O. was fish, drive, park, repeat. While the sun was up, the bass were, without exception, in brisk, moving water. They also tended to be on the small (5″-7″) side. I found players in every run I fished.

A smallmouth that Goldilocks would have loved. I like how the surface blends with the depths. The Hous is a weird-colored river.

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Fly selection was irrelevant. Bright white and fluorescent chartreuse? Loved it. Muted earth tones? Attacked it with prejudice. Horrible, dreadful pattern (like the TeQueely)? Total annihilation. The only fly I didn’t hook up on was the Gurgler, and that’s because I fished it in daytime and the little guys couldn’t manage the wide gap size 2 hook. This is the first time I fished the Deep Threat for smallmouth, and it was met with unilateral approval.

Crayfish are an anecdotal smallmouth favorite, as are flies in browns/orange/olives/black/etc. The river is loaded with the naturals.

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Once the sun dipped behind the hills and trees, the bigger fish action turned on. I lost count of the number of smallmouth I caught long before I took this shot, an attempt at an artsy silhouette portrait. 

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The vaunted white fly hatch never materialized. From 8pm-8:30 there was a consistent surface bite, but I had to work for every fish, and quite frankly, what was rising wasn’t worth the effort I was putting in with my Light Cahill dries (12-16). As dusk deepened, I decided to bail on the dries and go surface streamer. First cast toward the bank with the Zoo Cougar and I was on — and I mean on fast and hard. For the next half hour, I was in smallmouth heaven. Pound-for-pound, these might be the hardest fighting fish I’ve ever experienced. Tremendous sport.

My biggest smallmouth came as night settled in over the water. Sadly, he slipped the net while I was getting my camera ready, so you’ll have to be content with this shot of his younger brother.

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You know how sometimes on the drive home from the river something doesn’t sit quite right with you? Sure, you caught fish, but you may have LDRed a good one. Perhaps you lost a favorite fly on the bottom. Maybe there was that one fish you just couldn’t fool. You’re glad you got out, but there’s that little negative something inside that keeps gnawing away at you — and in a way, it wrecks the whole thing?

This trip wasn’t one of those.