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!
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.
On Thursday I guided Michael and Al from 2pm-6pm. My original plan was to explore some of the faster water in the PTMA, but an accident closed part of Rt. 44. So we decided to seek our pleasure downriver.
The stretch of water between Collinsville and Unionville is starting to warm up, but it’s still within an acceptable temperature range for trout (at least it was on Thursday). Depending on where you fish — i.e. below a long, pond-like stretch — you may find warmer water temperatures than in faster, deeper runs. Unless we get rain and a flow bump, the first real heat wave will torch this stretch. (Thanks, MDC, for your outstanding stewardship of the river, and genuine concern for preserving the resource…he said, dripping with sarcasm.)
We started in a run where I’d had some recent success, and while the action wasn’t hot and heavy, there were a few active fish to play with. We got into a mix of rainbows and juvenile Atlantic salmon, and it was gratifying to see two new wet fly anglers experience the thrill of the tug on a soft-hackled fly.
Al struck first, connecting with this lovely rainbow. How wonderful it is when theory is put into practice, and the trout do the rest of the heavy lifting. Both anglers did a great job, and enthusiastically embraced fishing under the hatch with wet flies.Same fish, heading for home. Most of our action came on creamy sulphury mayfly soft hackles and wingless wets.Does this guy look like he’s having fun? Al had to leave, so Michael and I walked a boulder field, picking pockets with wet flies. Today’s lesson is: When the water is low, look for the fastest, deepest water you can find, and cover every pocket, slot, and seam. By using this method, Michael found multiple trout willing to jump on. I loved his enthusiasm.
I finished the day fishing upriver. I swung wets from 7pm to around 7:30, and I managed three hookups in faster water, sadly losing a pig of wild brown when he wrapped the leader around a boulder. I’m still stinging from that loss, as it would have been my biggest Farmington fish this year. The good news was that he took a new Isonychia soft hackle prototype…and I know where he lives. I spent the next hour stubbornly swinging wets amidst a sulphur hatch that really never got going. I had two half-hearted touches, so I wasn’t sorry when I made the decision to switch to dry. I got three more fish in the next half hour, the first on a size 20 Magic Fly, the last two on Classic Catskills Light Cahill dries, sz 14-12. Even though the water was low, I used 5x tippet as part of a long leader, about 14 feet total length.
Looks like some much-needed rain over the next few days.
Moriel took a wet fly lesson with me yesterday from 2pm-6pm, and we were faced with the lowest flows I’ve encountered this year (thanks, MDC!) We started off in the PTMA, running just under 100cfs. By covering some fast water, we were able to conjure up a few hits, putting one juvenile Atlantic salmon in the hoop. Off to mark number two, below the PTMA. That was a major disappointment: zero-point-zero touches, no bugs, maybe 3-4 total rises in an hour. All the while, I was telling Moriel that he was producing many, many fish-worthy drifts, and that if he kept it up, he would some day-some time have one of those sessions we all dream about.
Two outs, bottom of the ninth found us way downstream. And just like that, trout began to materialize on our three fly team. We took them on a prototype Squirrel-Ginger-Sparkle diving caddis and our creamy mayflies. A gorgeous wild brown, stocked brook trout, grievously bird-wounded rainbow, and all of a sudden, our slow day turns into the grand salami. Today’s lesson: when the bite is slow, move around, cover water, and find the fish. Great job Moriel, and you excelled at letting the fish set the hook.
Tight lines and bent rods are a beautiful thing. A fine way to baptize a new stick. Well done, Moriel!
I decided to stay and fish the evening rise. When I arrived at 7pm, precious little was happening. I saw the first sulphur emerge at 7:10pm, but things really didn’t get going until 8:30pm. This mark had some faster water that held trout feeding on emergers and spinners; below me was a quasi-frog water stretch with very little current, and there the trout were smutting. The fish in the faster water were maddening; they’d go on a feed in one section, then stop. It would pick up in a completely different section, then stop. I never really got a handle on those fish, sticking two and dropping one in 90 minutes. I hooked and landed three more in the last half hour on classic Catskills-style Light Cahills, size 12-14. The last one came when I could no longersee the fly, so I used the bucket method of strike detection. It was my best fish of the evening, a 15″ rainbow who’s been eating well.
I fished for pleasure Wednesday evening, timing it so that I arrived at the mark on the lower river just as the thunderstorms were ending. There were a few small branches littering the roadway, but the water was surprisingly clear and free of debris. As I’d guessed would happen, I beat everyone else to the water and was able to secure some prime real estate. The river was quiet as I entered at 6pm, but the surface soon became dimpled by the tells of feeding fish.
This particular mark appeals to me because it’s a mix of moving runs and seams, eddying pockets, and a glassy pool bordering frog water. All of these places hold trout, and you’ve got to tailor your presentation, leader & tippet, and fly selection to meet the needs of each. Oh, and it all shifts and changes as daylight fades. It’s a difficult mark to get right, but when you figure it out, the rewards are great.
A healthy mid-teens Farmington brown taken on Mike Lawson’s Mayfly Cripple.
Wednesday night’s hatch window was textbook early summer. I had trout sipping spinners until dark, and I had trout slashing at emergers from 7:30pm until 8:45pm. I took fish on five different flies: Usual size 20, Magic Fly size 16 &18, Sulphur spinner size 20, classic Catskills Light Cahill size 12 & 14; and a new pattern I’d never fished before, Mike Lawson’s Mayfly Cripple in sulphur colors, size 16. I’ve never really gotten into the whole cripple thing, and the two times I’d fished this fly this year, the trout have largely ignored it. Not on this night. I stuck three good fish on it, and now it’s in my top rotation. The pattern is basically a Pheasant Tail bottom half with a sulphur dry top half that includes a thorax, hackle, and synthetic wing. (I’ll give you a pic and recipe soon.)
Say howdy to Mister White-Gloved. Iso time is a good time for all. This time of year, if you hear a take that sounds like someone threw a bowling ball into the river, chance are it was a trout feeding on Isonychia. Try a Hackled March Brown wet on point.
On Thursday I gave Brett a wet fly lesson. What a difference a day makes! We got a late start, so our window was 3:45-7:45, which should have meant a ton of bugs and visibly feeding fish. The bugs barely materialized; we saw a few sulphur, some tan caddis, and a couple Isos. Rises were few and far between, and none of the fish was in a regular feeding rhythm. Nonetheless, Brett slayed ’em. We stuck four at the first mark and I don’t know how many at the second — we easily put a double digits in the hoop. They ate every fly on the team (top dropper, Magic Fly size 14; middle dropper, new Squirrel and Ginger diving caddis prototype size 14; point fly tailed Partridge and Light Cahill size 14). We experienced a sequence where four consecutive fish took the diving caddis. More and more, I’m seeing evidence that this is a critical component of the three fly team. Brett did a fantastic job with his presentations and hook sets. If I were the trout, I’d be concerned.
I often hear apocryphal, unsubstantiated reports of wild rainbows on the Farmington River. So when Brett landed this fish, my curiosity was off the charts. Vivid coloration, unique spotting, minimal scale damage, parr marks…could it be?Could be…but isn’t. A closer look at the tail reveals a structure far too short and stubby for a wild fish. The anal fin also reveals the kind of shredding you’d find from repeated scraping against the bottom of a tank. Still, a striking creature.
You haven’t heard from me this week because I’ve been busy. Some family stuff, some business stuff, and, oh, by the way, fly fishing the Farmington River. I fished Monday late afternoon into dark; Tuesday 7pm-dark; and yesterday I guided Max in the afternoon, then finished off the day all by myself till dark. Rather than divy the days up, I’ll give you some hard data to digest. But first, yesterday’s session with Max.
Max wanted to learn the ancient and traditional art of wet flies, and after several years of missed connections, we finally made it happen. It was worth the wait, as conditions were nearly ideal for wet fly: 165cfs in the PTMA and 247cfs downriver, water running clear and cold and plenty of bugs. We started off in the PTMA, and sulphurs were the story. We spent the first hour doing a streamside classroom, then entered the water around 3pm. In the space of an hour we stuck six fish. Like many anglers new to swinging wets, Max found the hook-setting process a challenge — you’ve got to wait before you set and let the fish do most of the work. We moved downstream below the PTMA and once Max found his “are-you-still-there?” equilibrium it was lights out. We stuck a bunch more, and Max did a great job of getting his flies over feeding fish and managing his drifts. Well done!
Not the river’s prettiest rainbow, but a good fish nonetheless. She actually went 15″ and gave us a proper display of mykiss obstreperousness. She was feeding in about 18″ of moving water; we saw the rise, and Max delivered a perfect strike over her lie. Three of the last four fish we connected with, including this one, took a size 14 tan LaFontaine Diving Caddis. (Droppers are the fastest way to find out what the fish want.) Be advised, trout, there’s another wet fly flinging fish-catching machine in the making.
Now to my observations. This is a wonderful time to be fishing the Farmington. You’ve got actively feeding fish and bugs from daylight to dark. Witnessed: sulphurs, tan caddis, dark grey caddis, March Browns, Isonychia (well below the PTMA) midges, BWOs. All three days saw a prodigious number of sulphurs on the water and in the air from late afternoon to about 8pm.
The lower water and cooler temps aren’t hurting the wet fly fishing; but you’ve got to pick and choose your locations. Any wet fly success I witnessed and experienced came in broken water 1-3 feet deep that was moving at a brisk walking pace. Slower, languid water, even when loaded with active feeders, proved unproductive. The trout in the slower water seemed to be be keyed on spinners (present even in the late afternoon) and I had only a few half-hearted tugs to show for my wet fly efforts. Faster water was money, even when there were no visibly feeding fish.
Surfcaster Extraordinaire Toby Lapinski scored this 20+” wild brown on a Light Cahill soft hackle in — you guessed it — faster water. A lovely fish, and nice pecs! It was one of two large browns he picked up on Tuesday swinging wet flies.
Finally, the evening dry fly bite was been vexing me (says the guy who was featured in a movie about dry fly fishing on the Farmington). We all put our waders on one leg at a time, folks, and I’m your proof. Monday, it was a lot of bad luck: I had about a dozen swings and misses by the trout, connecting with and landing only three. Tuesday, I hooked and landed a trout on my first dry fly cast; it was all downhill after that. The slot I was fishing was far less populated with rising fish than the night before; there were more swings and misses, and I only stuck one more fish into dark. Then a wind and rain squall blew in and stopped the feeding dead in its tracks.
And for dessert, we have…
Last night, I had the place all to myself…and about 400,000 size 16 Sulphur duns and spinners that littered the surface of the run I was fishing. My target drift lane bordered frog water and classic glassy dry water. The fish seemed to move at will from sipping spinners to slashing at emergers, and sometimes doing both. Duns were everywhere on the water and were largely ignored. With so much food in the water, I again had trouble buying a strike, let alone trying to figure out what they wanted. In 90 minutes I was able to hook and land two trout, one on a size 16 Magic Fly fished dry and the other on a size 14 Light Cahill. At 8:45pm, the feed went from an 11 to 1-and-done. I think the cold weather has changed the usual pattern of feeding long after you can see your fly.
Get out there, folks. It’s really, really good, even when it seems like it isn’t.
On Thursday I had the pleasure of fishing with Andrew. Andrew had asked for a wet fly lesson, and he couldn’t have picked a better day: water on the low side of medium and clear & cold, hot, sunny weather…well, maybe it could have been a little bit better on the hatch intensity scale, as we really didn’t see much aerial bug activity, nor actively feeding fish. Nonetheless, the subsurface bite was tremendous. We started off in the PTMA with a stream-side Wet Flies 101 lesson, then headed to the water. In one hour we stuck six fish (while the anglers above and below us blanked). We finished up below the PTMA and were faced with the same situation: very little bug activity and virtually no active feeders. But the bite was off the charts! I have no idea how many trout we stuck. Like many new wet fly anglers, Andrew found it challenging to let the fish set the hook. But he did a great job of casting and presentation. Awwwright, Andrew!
The first of many for Andrew. We fished a three fly team consisting of a sz 16 Magic Fly top dropper, sz 14 tan Diving Caddis middle dropper, and sz 14 tailed Partridge and Light Cahill on point. Unlike my experience Tuesday night, all Andrew’s fish came on the creamy mayflies.A historical — and hysterical — moment. Andrew took a spunky rainbow, and as we were admiring it in the net, he haphazardly let his leader dangle in the current a rod’s length away. Bang! Another rainbow took the point fly with fierce conviction. I’ve experienced many wet fly doubles, but none like this one!
After our session ended, I headed downstream to meet surfcaster extraordinaire Toby Lapinski for the evening rise. The mark was basically dead at 7pm, which did not bode well — it should have been simmering with rises and the air should have been dotted with creamy mayflies. Absent any action, I headed upriver to swing a team through a snotty run, and was rewarded with 8 fish in a half hour. As with Andrew, all of the action came on the creamy mayflies. The dry fly bite finally happened at 8pm, but it was probably a 3-out-of 10 on the scale, and there was no real dusk feeding frenzy. I’d ended up in the some frog water where the majority of risers were smutting on tiny flies and spinners. Since I was feeling lazy, I didn’t bother tailoring my leader and flies to that situation; as a result, I rose only 7 trout on my size 16 Magic Fly, Usual, and sz 12 Catskills Light Cahill, sticking 2 and landing 1. But that was fine with me. Toby had similar results. This weekend cold front won’t help matters, but I expect the Sulphur hatch to build over the next week. Hopefully, before long, we’ll be in that early summer dry fly nirvana.
Neville has been following me for some time now, all the way from England. While he’s on holiday in the States this week, we had the time to meet up in Rhode Island for a lesson. We met at his rental in Point Judith, and tied a deer hair shrimp, my Grass Shrimp Solution, a Big Eelie, and then a Mutable Squid. That kept us busy for a couple of hours. Then we geared up and headed to an estuary to practice the greased line swing and its associated tactics. The tide was wrong, but we had moving water, and we even had a swing and a miss when Nev was stripping in his line to make another cast. (Teaching moment: the bass that chased his Ray’s Fly was small. Stripping a fly is a great way to attract small striped bass.) Neville is a very enthusiastic learner (he recorded much of our session on his phone) and I have only the highest amount of respect for those who dive into a subject with such eagerness and passion. Well done, Nev!
All the way from Merry Old England! Here’s Nev putting his TFO TiCr five-weight through its paces. He’s well on his way to becoming a dangerous striper-catching machine.
Fans of the movie Patton will instantly get the reference. In this case, I’m not talking about military literature, but rather LaFontaine’s fly fishing masterwork Caddisflies, which I have been studying the last couple months with renewed vigor. We’ll get to that in a moment.
I fished last night for less than two hours, but it was almost non-stop, spectacular wet fly action from start to finish. The mark was a section of the lower river, running at 328cfs and about 60 degrees. Hatch activity was at best moderate. Observed: Vitreus size 12, Sulphur size 14-16, midges, and tan caddis size 14-16. Rise activity was minimal. I fished a three fly team of a Magic Fly (heavy hook) size 14 top dropper, a LaFontaine Diving Caddis tan variant size 14 middle dropper, and a tailed Partridge and Light Cahill size 14 on point. My first three fish took one of each. From about 7:15-8:30, I have no idea how many trout I hooked. It was one of those nights where if I made three drifts without a tug, I wondered if maybe it was over. (The the answer was always no, it isn’t.) Here is the magic of the evening: this was the first time I fished the Diving Caddis, and of the over two dozen trout I landed, the vast majority came on the caddis.
Also noteworthy: there were very few visible rises, and not a ton of bugs. But clearly, there was a significant feeding event taking place subsurface — and the featured entree was egg-laying tan caddis.
The idea behind the Diving Caddis is to emulate a female egg layer, encased in a silvery bubble of air. This specific pattern is not in Caddisflies, but obviously the trout appreciated my creativity. My variant was tied with tan thread on a size 14 hook. Body was tan Lifecycle Caddis with a small gold wire rib. Underwing was brown partridge. Overwing 30 fibers of tan sparkle yarn. One turn brown rooster hackle tied hanging back to ward the bend.I had the Farmington hat trick. Most of the fish were stocked rainbows, but there was also a hefty stocked brook trout, along with a bonus 6″ wild brookie. I also had four wild browns, which was gratifying since this section of river no doubt got torched during last summer’s heat and drought. Love me some paddle pecs! Almost all of the takes came in swirling pocket water on the dead drift, although I did have a bunch on the dangle, too.
I guided Jerry and his 8 year-old son Wesley on Friday. Both are very beginning fly fishers, and neither had ever fished the Farmington River before. But, this a great time to fish the river, and we had outstanding weather: sunny, 70 degrees, flows at 270cfs in the PTMA and 435cfs downriver. On that day, 11am-3pm, the story was caddis, caddis, and caddis. Wesley hooked up first, then dad, and we ended up with five in the hoop. What a tremendous job for both anglers. Well done, gentleman and lad!
As you can see, Wesley is a little guy. After I rigged him up, I held his hand as we waded out to the spot, telling him that I had him in case he slipped. “Do you trust me?” I asked. “No,” he replied, without a moment’s hesitation. Too funny! (Photo by Jerry Ezold)Wesley’s first Farmington River trout! He did a great job of managing his drifts (we started off with indicator drop shot nymphing) and especially with looking for a reason to set the hook on every drift. I had both father and son fishing an Electric Caddis larva on point; Wesely with tan, and Jerry with bright green. Both worked. There are many versions of that fly bouncing around the web, so I’ll try to get you the recipe I use soon. It’s produced every time out.After spending the bulk of the time at one mark, we moved to a second within the PTMA to finish the session. I switched both anglers to a two-fly wet fly team. I had both fishing Mike Lawson’s Partridge Caddis Emerger in tan on top and both connected. (This was the first time I had ever fished that pattern, which was designed for Henry’s Fork but of course works very well back east.) Jerry scored this gorgeous wild brown on his point fly, my bead head Squirrel and Ginger. A great first time on the Farmington, guys, and you were both a pleasure to fish with. (Photo by Jerry Ezold)
The Farmington River is now moving into late spring/early summer mode. The hatches will begin to transition to heavier in the evenings, although caddis will still come off mornings/early afternoons, with egg layers returning later in the day. As you may have read, I am totally booked for June. Here’s hoping you get out to fish, and if you see me, please come say hello.
currentseams.com 