George and Michele took a wet fly lesson with me on Tuesday, and deserved much better than what they put into it. We started out in the lower end of the PTMA. The water was perfect for wet flies, but there was no hatch activity and virtually no visible feeding. We had a good, long streamside classroom session, but we had to scrap for the few touches we received. George and Michele both did an excellent job of getting their flies where they needed to be, but you can’t catch what doesn’t want to eat.
So we zipped down below the PTMA and were greeted by: more of the same. The fish were a little more active, but still no real hatch, nor feeding. Although both George and Michele put trout in the hoop, they didn’t get rewarded for the fine level they wet fly fished at. Our fishing window was 1pm-5pm, and to prove it wasn’t them, I swung wets for 90 minutes, 6pm-7:30pm, above the PTMA, and managed only two trout. Not good. At 7:30 I switched to dry, and proceeded to….wait. Nothing happened. 8pm. Still no rises. Finally, I moved downstream 200 feet, where I found a couple risers and landed them both. From 8:30-9:15pm, all hell broke loose, and it was a trout on every cast, even after I could no longer see the fly. Caddis 16-18, little Sulphurs 16-18, and midges filled the air and littered the surface of the water.
This is typical for this time of year when the hatch is delayed. If you want to catch fish, my best advice is to wait it out, then take advantage of the dusk feeding frenzy.
This was the scene on the walk out. The photo really doesn’t do it justice; there were thousands of bugs in the air and on the water, and the trout were eagerly gulping them down. Fly selection was irrelevant; I took them on 16 The Magic Fly, 12 and 16 The Usual, and 12 and 16 Catskills Light Cahill.
I fished the lower river Monday evening. The weather was vastly different than today’s; it was overcast and downright chilly for June. I swung wets for a couple hours, and the action was disappointing. Three trout on wets late afternoon this time of year ain’t exactly lighting it up. Part of that had to do with a sub-par hatch and very little visible feeding activity. Then, there was the cursing incident. Another angler thought I was bogarting his water; instead of talking to me about it, I was treated to a torrent of f-bombs and called various other unpleasant names that use slang to describe parts of the human body. Even though I thought he was being unreasonable (given the size and popularity of the pool) I apologized and backed away — and still, the venom and vitriol rain down upon me. Here’s the punch line: before I entered the water, I’d spent a few minutes asking where he was going to be fishing (he had been sitting on a log, taking a break), talking about flies, and I’d even gave him one of my favorite patterns. No good deed, etc.
To top it off, the fishing mostly stunk. I fooled a good number of fish on dries, and came away with no purchase on the hook set. I did eventually catch fish, but it wasn’t the lights out feeding orgy I had hoped for. Observed: midges, small caddis, a few sulphurs, a couple bigger Light Cahills.
But, every day is different, and Tuesday serves as the proof. I guided Brian from 1pm to 5pm, and he basically slayed them. We did our streamside classroom — this was a wet fly lesson — then we got into the water and began catching trout. The run we fished in the PTMA had a few risers, but nothing really consistent. Still, he got two in the hoop before we moved on to the lower river.
The pool we fished was a dream scenario for a wet fly lesson. You instruct the client; the client listens and executes, and the trout reward his efforts by jumping on with gusto. I don’t know how many trout we caught, but they smashed every fly on our team of three (sz 14 Squirrel and Ginger, sz 14 tan LF Diving Caddis, sz 12 BHSHPT multiple times. The rainbows offered tremendous sport; several of them performed cartwheels and aerials that would do any steelhead proud. Brian did a fantastic job of casting, mending, presenting, and covering water. Yet another Dangerous Wet Fly Machine has been created!
Hook. Play. Land. Repeat. Brian crushed them, and I was particularly impressed with how fast he landed his fish. Get ’em in, get ’em off — that’s the way to do it when you’re playing the catch-and-release game. Well done, Brian!
After our lesson, I was feeling ambivalent about fishing, but I had plans to meet “Summer on the Farmington” film director Matthew Vinick, so I headed up to the PTMA. I found him in a snotty boulder field, and while my plan was to start by swinging wets, there was no one(!) in one of the most popular dry fly pools on the river. So I jumped on that.
Within 15 minutes, there were five other anglers in the run. Funny thing! We all managed to share the water (and we were all significantly closer together than I was to the Monday Night Curser) without anyone getting upset.
Even though I was the first in the pool, I made the wrong choice of real estate. Has this ever happened to you? You pick your water and the trout are rising above you, and below you, but not in front of you. I did catch a few fish on The Usual sz 16 and the Magic Fly size 16, but when the gentleman below me left around 7:45 pm, I eagerly moved into his slot. And that was the right call, because there were far more active feeders in that area. The trout were taking sulphur emergers and the occasional straggling sulphur dun, and on this night it was just like the early June Farmington River dry fly playbook said it would be: match the hatch in size and color, make a good drift over a feeding lane, and the trout will eat the fly. I have no idea how many eats I had, but it was a lot.
At 8:15 I switched over to a sz 16 Light Cahill Catskills style dry, and it took about 10 minutes of fading light for the trout to want to eat that fly. By 8:40 I had upped to a size 12, same fly, and it was a fish on every cast until I could no longer see the fly and the frenzy began to wane. I went 10 casts without a take, then called it.
I couldn’t remember the last time I left the river so happy.
My deepest apologies for being so late with this report. On Monday I spent a lovely afternoon on the river with Farmington River guide extraordinaire Steve Hogan and Delaware River guide/photographer par excellence Bob Lindquist. Steve and I were fishing and Bob was shooting, both for an article he’s writing and for my book. We started off in the PTMA, me swinging wets and Steve with a dry/dropper combo. There were a few caddis about, but not a lot. We both took several trout.
We moved operations to the lower river where I focused on some snotty whitewater in a boulder field to swing wets. Steve went to Euronymph the dum- in to a pool and took trout after trout on his rig, mostly fat, stocked rainbows. I had less action, but did take a gorgeous wild brown with brilliant orange spots. Witnessed: caddis, Light Cahill, Isonychia, and sulphur, albeit in statistically insignificant numbers.
At this point, you may be wondering, “Steve, you were on a photoshoot. Where the heck are all the amazing photos?” Sadly, what Bob shot — and he got some wonderful pictures of fish and anglers and action and bent rods and splashing trout — is for his article and the book only. What’s more, I forgot to bring my camera along, so I have no secondary shots to share. All I can tell you is: it will be worth the wait.
Not from Monday. But there was a lot of this going on!
At this point Steve left and Bob and I ventured off to another boulder field. Even though the sun was still high and there was virtually no hatch activity, I had a banner 60 minutes bailing trout on wet flies. We called it just before 6pm, as Bob had a long drive home, but I have no doubt that if I had stayed, I would have done some significant damage as the evening hatch ramped up.
Later, I did some thinking about why I didn’t get as many fish on wet flies as I thought I should have. My best guess is that in the bright sunlight, the trout were congregating in the deepest water they could find. The last mark I fished was mostly in shade. The evening hatches were probably starting to ramp up. So there’s your most likely answer.
This is a great time to be fishing the river. I hope you get the chance to get out.
As I suspected, writing the book is has become a major time sink. Not that I’m necessarily complaining — I really enjoy writing about fly fishing — but I’d rather be doing it than writing about it.
So, the fishing has suffered a bit, and my mid-to-late spring grass shrimp outings are a perfect case study. Normally by this time of year I’ve been out multiple times. Last night was my first, and I may not get out for it again until next year. I picked a meh night for it. The swarm was probably a 3 out of 10, and there wasn’t much on it. I fished my usual three-fly team (last night’s lineup: Grass Shrimp Solution top dropper, Orange Ruthless clam worm middle dropper, Micro Gurgler on point). I fished a modified swing and dangle. I had to work over the course of 90 minutes to hook one shad and two bass, and those fish came in a bite window of 30 minutes. But I was happy to be there, the cigar was swell, and I felt like I spent part of an evening with a dear old friend.
Some nights, you get fish on all three flies. Other nights, they want one thing only, and last night it was the Micro Gurgler.
I’ve been having a tough time with lessons this year. Not the clients! All have been enthusiastic learners and a treat to coach and teach. Rather, the bite windows have generally stunk (and they really shouldn’t be stinking). Yesterday’s lesson was a case in point. Craig did an outstanding job casting and mending and presenting and hunting and covering water. The last couple hours in particular, you could really see him taking to the wet fly. He never got discouraged, and he deserved a lot better than four touches and two in the hoop. But I’m happy to declare that Craig is going to be a certified Wet Fly Dangerous Machine if he keeps on keeping on! Great job, Craig.
The river was up from the rains, but in the 400s of cfs it was not too high for the wet fly. Weather was perfect, save for some breezy moments. No, I think the main culprit was the almost total lack of hatch activity, and zero visible feeding. I think I saw a half dozen(!) caddis in four hours. This was Craig’s first fish. I thought at first it might be a salmon/trout half-breed, but after closer inspection the maxillary is all brown trout. What threw me off was the tail, but I believe the fork is created by rending of the tissue. Whatever it is, it smacked the fly with gusto, and is a beautiful creature worthy of the wet fly.
I had a window of opportunity, so I decided to try my luck with the evening rise, although, between you and me, I didn’t think there would be much of one. Turns out I was right. Kindof. I wanted to fish the lower river, which was running much higher at 730cfs. It was, to say the least, a tricky wade. I was in the water fishing at 6:15, and for quite a while, absolutely nothing was happening. I started debating the merits of fishing vs. having a couch date with my wife, but decided to stick it out, if for no other reason than scientific curiosity. Then I got into a fish. And another. It wasn’t gangbusters, and still nothing was happening bug- or hatch- or rise-wise, but I was catching trout and having fun. I stuck it out to 8:30. Moments before, I had declared that it was over, when a big wild brown slammed by fly. I don’t usually put fish on the reel, but this hefty brown told me I really should. Final tally was 15 hooked and 12 in the hoop. Not bad for high water and nothing going on.
Of the dozen to net, 9 were stocked rainbows, a few of which thought they were steelhead, with multiple gravity-defying aerials. Three were wild browns: the big guy, a little guy, and this mid-range guy. This is significant because I was fishing in an area that would have been torched last summer in the heat and low flows. Nature finds a way. For those keeping score at home, the big one took LaFontaine’s Diving Caddis winged wet, middle dropper, which you should be fishing right now late afternoons into dusk.
I guided Doug on Monday and Tuesday, and the results were fascinating. (At least they were to me.) Doug, who’s from northern Michigan, drove all the way to Connecticut for a wet fly lesson after hearing me talk about wet flies with Tom Rosenbauer on the Orvis podcast. We fished within the PTMA on Monday, and conditions were pretty spiffy: 330cfs, clear, cold, and a good caddis hatch, mostly tan, sz 16-20. The problem was uncooperative fish. We had a few risers to target, but nothing was coming up consistently. It was a struggle to put a couple in the hoop. Like many anglers new to the way of the wet fly, Doug needed some time to adjust to the casting, the mending and presentation, and waiting for the fish to do the hook setting.
Day one: Doug scores a lovely Farmington wild brown, taken on a BHSH Hendrickson, sz 12. He went out after our lesson and stuck a few more fish. Little did we know he was just warming up for Tuesday.
We fished the same time frame on Tuesday, 11am-3pm, only this time we headed to the lower river. 565cfs, clear, 55 degree water and glorious 80 degree sunshine. We focused on dialing in his presentation, covering water, and targeting fishy areas in some classic pocket water. What a difference a day makes! Doug stuck nine and landed eight. It was really cool to see him gaining confidence and making so many eat-worthy drifts. Fantastic job, Doug, and he scored a Farmington Hat Trick with browns, rainbows, and a brookie to hand.
About three hours into our session, I told Alan that of all the lessons I’d given over the years, if you asked me to pick the absolute worst days for catching, this would easily be in the top three. Or would that be bottom three?
It didn’t start that way: reduced flow (425cfs in the PTMA), warm air, bright sunshine, and bugs everywhere, bugs being caddis and midges. (Also witnessed: crane flies.) The midges floated by in mats and clusters, the caddis emerged and danced on the water and flitted through the air…and nothing was on them. I saw two rises in four hours. And so it turned out that it was a terrible day for catching fish on wet flies.
I leave the why to those who are wiser than I, but among my guesses were high pressure, a sudden change in flow, and (most likely) trout eating the caddis larva and emergent pupa near the bottom and at the mid depths. This last scenario manifested when we took our only fish of the day on a tungsten bead head Hendrickson soft hackle fished on point.
It wasn’t just us. We saw or encountered over a half dozen other anglers, and none of them had hooked up. Some days, the fish win. But Alan kept at it, making hundreds of fish-worthy presentations, and there will come the day when he does that and he’s hooking up on every cast. Well done, Alan!
Salvation comes to us in the form of a lovely parr-marked rainbow. She slammed the point fly on the dangle so hard, the Alan never had time to set the hook. Thanks, you beauty, for doing all the work, and to Alan for his positive perseverance.
On Monday I had the opportunity to fish a private stream, so naturally I jumped on it. This is a lovely brook that wants to be a river, and it’s not easy water. Its banks are overgrown, and there’s often a three foot drop from terra firma to water. The first beat we fished was particularly challenging; a lot of the water crawls along, creating glassy pools where any movement sends the fish into flight toward the nearest cut bank. I was instructed to stay out of the water as much as possible, but when did I ever follow directions when I wanted to do my thing? I decided that I needed to get in, summon my inner stealth ninja, and fish downstream.
Sure enough, I crept up on pool that had risers. The hatch was midges and caddis, and there were a few stray Hendrickson spinners. Some of the takes were more emergery, some gentle sips. I had two fish slam the fly the moment it hit the water, and a few more that required a little coaxing. I took six fish, which I was told was pretty darned good, a nice mix of stocked and wild brookies and some chunky rainbows. All three flies were eaten: Squirrel and Ginger (sparkle variant — more on that soon!), Hendrickson spider, and LaFontaine’s diving caddis, tan.
The second beat was not as kind. It began good enough, with my biggest fish of the day, a rainbow with a dramatic pink band (you can see it on Instagram @stevecultonflyfishing) on the second cast. But even though this mark was far better suited for wet flies, I only managed one more trout (do creek chubs count?), and even with that one, I had to wait a half hour and go back after I missed her the first time. I think the lack of activity was due to the hatches being over, and everyone with fins being well fed. Or, maybe I just stunk. Or maybe it was just fishing. No matter. It was just capital to be out fishing. Thank you. Peter G., for your most generous invitation.
It’s almost never a bad idea to swing wet flies when you see feeding fish, especially during an emergence. However, be advised: if the trout aren’t feeding regularly and rhythmically, and you don’t get hit after three good presentations, you may be in for a bit of a wait…
Meanwhile, nose to the grindstone on the book. As far guide trips go, I am not taking any more dates in May. If you see me on the river, please come say hello.
Then, of course, there’s the new house and vegetable garden, which won’t plant itself. What a wonderful collection of obligations.
It’s hard to believe, but yesterday was the first time this year I got out on the Farmington River — and most of the afternoon was dedicated not to fishing, but errands and work. Poor me, having to spend an afternoon in an office that included shirtsleeve weather, sunshine, Hendricksons, trout, and good company!
Besides fishing errands — new boots and two nets on the item list — I spent some time distributing info sheets on gathering fly patterns and photos for the book. Then I hightailed it to the river to get some shots of guide Steve Hogan with his client. Finally, I spent an hour idly swinging a team of three wets. I’d missed the earlier hatch window, but I stuck a pile of juvy Atlantic salmon and then finally a rambunctious stocker rainbow.
I’d given Steve a tungsten bead head soft-hackled Hendrickson, and later in the day he sent me this photo, taken upriver. Well done, Mark! While there were some Hendricksons in the air, the hatch has progressed to north of the PTMA. Church Pool was devoid of anglers at 3pm, so there’s your proof.(Photo by Steve Hogan)
I ventured with #3 Son Gordo to ye olde steelhead mill, AKA Pulaski, NY’s Salmon River, for two days of post-spawn steelhead fishing. Due to an unusually mild winter, the spawn was very early this year. what should have been prime time numbers was picking away and scrapping for every fish. The weather was chilly, but bright and sunny, and predictably the fish were holding in the deepest, fastest, most bubbly water they could find. I was 2-for-3 on Monday and 3-for-4 on Tuesday with a couple skippers in the mix. Gordo, who was spin fishing under a float, put one in the hoop each day. All steelhead are special, so it was a treat to have our hard work and persistence rewarded. See you in November!
This post-spawn hen slammed a size 6 olive Woolly Bugger in a fast-moving slot near the head of the run. Moments before, I’d taken a two-pound skipper on the same fly as I was stripping it in to recast. Thank you both for playing!
currentseams.com 