Even though we’re haven’t experienced a heat wave in weeks, water temps on the West Branch continue to play spoilsport. As I write this at 12:30pm, it’s already close to 70 degrees(!) in Riverton. Not good. With the warm, damp late summer weather, it’s no surprise that flying ants have been out with trout eating them. But, as UpCountry Sportfishing’s Torrey Collins writes, “you need to be very careful about water temps in the afternoons. This means you may need to fish between Canal/Beaver Pools and the dam to stay in water temps of 68 degrees or less.” As of late, the cutoff point for safe fishing above Riverton has been around 10am.
So: my guide trips remain in limbo. Patience will be our virtue. Although, if you want to curse and mutter under your breath, I certainly won’t stop you.
Thanks also to everyone who started following me on Instagram.
This was my client Michael on the Lower River in late June, late afternoon, 100cfs, and believe it or not, the water was colder there and then than it is coming out of the dam right now!
I’m really not in a bad mood about it, but yeesh! I have been getting my butt kicked in the salt since June. Granted, it’s been a trip here, a trip there. Wednesday night I fished a top-secret mark with surfcaster extraordinaire Toby Lapinski. We both agreed that it looked fishy as hell: moon going behind a cloud bank for good, light winds making just the right amount of chop, falling barometer, moving tide, and….no bait. What?!? No legions of silversides? No juvenile menhaden? Toby managed a few courtesy bumps and a husky 8-10lb bluefish; all I could muster was a lightning fast double-blip hit that I suspect was a smaller blue. We only gave it 90 minutes, but we just weren’t feeling it.
Which brings us to the second part of this post. Dennis Zambrotta wrote that when he fishes the west side beaches of Block Island, he gives a mark 10 casts or so and then moves on. I don’t have any hard and fast rules like that, other than when I’m fishing by feeling, I get into a yeah or nay mindset. And on this night, the nays were screaming out loud. I was the one who formally called it, and Toby later confessed that he was ready to leave even before that. I guess when you reach a certain level, and have a certain familiarity with a mark and its patterns, you’re either feeling it or you’re not. Maybe if we stayed another hour, we’d have gotten into some fish. We did agree that if fellow surfcaster extraordinaire Jerry Audet was with us, he’d still be out there.
Jerry is a wonderful example of an angler with a plan. He knows who he is and how he wants to fish and he does it with consistently great results. You could learn a lot from a guy like Jerry — even if you never pick up a spinning rod — and a good place to start is last month’s Anglers Journal Podcast, Surfcasting With Jerry Audet. Give it a listen. Take notes. Appreciate his knowledge and passion.
Even if you’re inclined to get the hell off the reef and get to bed before 2am.
It seems never-ending, this stuck-inside-of-Riverton-with-the-New Hartford-blues-again feeling. But a glance at the current temperatures coming out of the dam offers some positive traction for the glass-half full crowd.
This weekend saw the coldest temps out of the gate since August 3rd. If we continue to have cool nights in the 50s, that bodes well for a reduction of a few precious degrees. Of course, sunlight and hot air can quickly defeat those few precious degrees. But better times and lower water temps are coming.
In the meantime, I am continuing to put all my Farmington River lessons and guide trips on hold. Like trout, the Farmington’s aquatic insects are shocked as well. My spies tell me hatch activity has been minimal at best. If you must fish the Farmington, please do it from Riverton northward, and do it from first light to mid-morning. Please carry a thermometer and do not fish in water above 67 degrees. Right now is great time to visit the bluegill pond with for 6-foot glass rod and some poppers or a size 18 Elk Hair Caddis. Panfish fight way outside their weight class (ask me how I know!).
The flows have come down on the West Branch (about 325cfs from the dam and about 450cfs in the PTMA). But all’s not well. As predicted, the ridiculous volume released by the MDC burned through the colder stores at the bottom of the reservoir, and those won’t be replaced for months. Right now, the dam release is about 64 degrees, which is barely trout friendly. The problem is, the farther you go downstream, and the warmer the air temp and the more intense the sunshine, the warmer the water gets.
This is from Torrey Collins on this morning’s UpCountry Sportfishing river report: “(water temperature) rises varying amounts depending upon the day, time of day, and distance from the dam (it reached a peak of 67 degrees in Riverton in the late afternoon yesterday). With a much cooler forecast this week and cooler nights, I’d say you can safely fish downriver as far as New Hartford in the mornings, but by noonish I’d be up at People’s Forest/Mathie’s Grove/Campground & upstream in Riverton where the water temps will be a little cooler as the day progresses and water temps rise a bit. Bring a thermometer with you and actually use it.”
So if you choose to fish for trout on the Farmington, please consult this infographic from ColoradoTU.org:
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.
currentseams.com 