Two shad. Not bad.

The tide had reached its highest rise

Beneath the starry late spring skies

And so the time had come to pass

To maybe catch a stripe-ed bass.

~

Absent hearing a loud pop,

Into the water flies did drop

A drift, a mend, and then a tug

A shrimp fly ate by silver thug.

~

A small bass was caught next to me,

“I’m the Shad King!” was my decree.

A second one on deer hair shrimp

on whose materials I did scrimp.

~

On the dangle, another spot

I felt the bump, but hooked ’twas not

Then, while standing in a slog

I lost my fly rig on a log

~

And so it goes, this striper funk

More trips than not I get the skunk

It makes me want to scream and shout

Instead I think I’ll fish for trout.

~

I fought the log and log won. A stupidly simple grass shrimp pattern: sparse fine bucktail tail, silver body braid under criss-crossed white thread, deer hair wing, head trimmed caddis style.

Deer Hair Grass Shrimp

Farmington River Report 6/9/15: Lessons learned (and re-learned)

Learned: If you lose your Cocoons on Sunday night in two feet of water because you were stupid enough to try to wedge them over your cap on top of your headlamp, you can return on Tuesday morning to the scene of the bumbling and recover them. (This might have been the highlight of my day.)

Re-Learned: You can follow a nymphing session where you drop nearly every fish with one where you land nearly every fish.

Learned: When caddis are hatching and you’re dedicated to the nymphing cause, a Squirrel and Ginger makes a damn good top dropper on a two-fly drop-shot rig. (Every trout I took today while nymphing came on that top dropper. First time I used that fur-hackled wet in that position, and it won’t be the last.)

Re-Learned: If you want to fish alone, stay outside the permanent TMA.

Re-Learned: When fish start taking emergers, it’s almost never a bad idea to swing a team of wet flies.

Water was medium height, clear, and cold. Midges and a few creamy mayflies (size 12), but mostly caddis (size 14-16).

Off you go. Didn’t think that caddis emerger was going to bite back, didja?

Farmington River Mini Report 6/7/15: Let the dry games begin

A quick 90-minute session on the river last night from 7:30-9:00. Walked a riffle-pocketed run swinging wets. A couple bumps, but no firm hook sets. I was a little disappointed by the lack of surface feeding activity — there were plenty of bugs (caddis, midges, light Cahills), but nothing on them. That changed once I moved down to some smoother dry fly-type water. Three anglers were just leaving, so I moved in. I witnessed three different rise forms: the showy slash/splash, the subsurface boil, and the spinner sip. Unfortunately, it was one of those evenings where very few of the fish were showing any consistent feeding pattern. Still, I managed to stick a half-dozen browns ranging from nine to about fifteen inches. They liked the Pale Watery wingless (Magic Fly) size 18 and a size 20 Catskills Light Cahill. There was one good fish feeding (spinner sip) in about a foot of frog water on the edge of a impossible-to-mend-across current seam. I had at him repeatedly over the course of an hour. He did not come to net, but getting him to take was the highlight of the evening.

Time to warm up the cane pole for sulphurs.

Farmington River Mini Report 6/4/15: Butterhook

Those of you with more than a passing familiarity with Roger Moore’s first turn as James Bond will recognize the reference. For my purposes, it was simply one of those days. Sharp hooks, but some decidedly obtuse hook setting.

Tee Hee does his thing. Now, if only I could do mine.

live-and-let-die-271

I dropped so many trout it was comical. OK, so most of what I lost was moments away from being netted, so I got my money’s worth of play time — like that rainbow that twice erupted from the depths like a Polaris missile — but this was ridiculous. Bad hook sets, bad luck, or a combination of both, but I suspect mostly the former. Well. Now we have something to aspire to next outing.

I’ve been on a nymphing kick, and I started in Spot A somewhere below the permanent TMA. Three fish, and one unidentified monster. The indicator dipped, I set the hook, and felt the bottom. Then the bottom started vibrating. And moving upstream. With the sensation of substantial mass. Suddenly, the hook pulled free. This came in some water I had never fished before, so I consoled myself with the knowledge that now I know where it lives. Till next time.

After I lost my nymph rig, I tied on a Hi-Liter streamer. Yes, you can catch a nice low teens wild brown on a day-glow streamer in the middle of the day in June in water three feet deep. This guy whacked it once, missed, then charged after the fly like a striper on a Gurgler. Funny to watch, and even more fun to catch.

Spot B was above the permanent TMA. Blanked.

Spot C was within the permanent TMA. What a dork I am. Not only did I drop a nice some-teen inch brown, I did it twice. The first time I was just about to slip him into the net when he popped. Male, big black spots, paddle tail. I could taste that fish. Fifteen minutes later, I hooked him again. Same spot, same fly, only he came undone after he thrashed about on the surface ten seconds into the fight. Like the beastie from earlier in the day, I know where he lives. As I was leaving, I muttered, “The fighting is in rounds. This is round one.” (Anyone get that movie reference?)

Water was ever-so-slightly stained, 350cfs, 52 degrees.

Small stream report 6/3/15: Alive and well and living in Connecticut

The original plan was to throw streamers in the murky waters of the Farmington. But the river wasn’t high or dirty enough for my liking. Still, needs must fish. What better option than the outgoing tide on a small stream? None, as it turns out.

Conditions were perfect: 68 degree air temperature, water at a medium-high level after the rains and running clear and cool (58 degrees). Oh, the bugs! Yes, indeed. There were the usual suspects, like caddis and midges and mosquitoes. But how about size 16 sulphurs? Size 14-16 golden stones? Heck, let’s throw in some mongo golden stones (size 4-6?) into the mix — I’ve never seen those on this stream. And some egg-laden mahogany dun spinners, size 16.

The brook fished very well. I pricked dozens of fish, many of them in pools where I haven’t caught anything in years. Mostly brookies, but three wild browns in the mix. All on the upstream dry (elk hair caddis and Stimulators).

After the draconian winter of 2014-2015, how comforting it is to have nature reaffirm that she will always find a way.

Intriguing markings on this hen.

Brookie 6-2015

Another hen, this one of the Salmo trutta persuasion. Best hit of the day. She all but slaughtered the fly. You’ll have to bear with me on the substandard photography. I lost my good camera, and my backup had issues today. I hope to have the situation rectified in a few weeks.

Brown 6-2015

A few odds and ends on a rainy Monday

Happy June. Although today feels more like early April. But we desperately needed this rain. Nature finds a way.

I have the cover story in the current issue of American Angler. The article is called The Little Things, and it’s about seemingly small adjustments, strategies, and practices that can have a significant impact on your fishing. When I get my copy, I’ll post some pictures and devote a post to it.

Come say hi. “Are you Steve Culton?” This has been happening more and more when I’m fishing, and I’m glad for it. People often follow it with something about not wanting to bother me, which is very polite, but unnecessary. You’re not bothering me. If we’re sharing the same water, please say hello. It’s always a treat to put faces to names.

Help me help you. I get a lot of requests like this: “Can you give me the recipe for (fly pattern name)?” I am always happy to help, but many of the flies I mention in my posts are already archived on this site. You can find them by using the currentseams search function on the right side of the page. It looks like this:

Screen Shot 2015-06-01 at 4.28.58 PM Just type what you’re looking for in the box, then hit enter or return. If it’s on currentseams, you’ll get a list of links.

Use email or phone to contact me. Many people try to contact me through the comments section of various posts. I respond, then often never hear from them again. If you’re interested in purchasing flies or booking a guide trip, please call me or send an email. You can find that information here.

Speaking of guiding, my schedule should start to open up some in June. June and July are great times to fish the Farmington. As always, I highly recommend weekdays over weekends for a more pleasant, less crowded angling experience.

Closing in on 300 followers. That means another fly giveaway. Of course, we need to hit the magic mark first. In the meantime, this is a good time to thank you for following, thank you for reading, thank you for your positive energy, and thank you for all your kind words. I truly appreciate them.

Farmington River Mini Report 5/31/15: Love that Emergency Bag

The Emergency Bag is probably over-named. Perhaps it should be the “Boy Scout” Bag (Be prepared). Or maybe call it what it truly is, which would be the “Spare Clothes In Case I Fall In and Other Miscellaneous Outerwear I Might Need” Bag. But, I’ve always called it the Emergency Bag, and so it is.

The cool thing about the Emergency Bag is that if you go to the river on the one day of the month when they’re calling for the deluge, and it hits, and you’ve forgotten your Gore-Tex rain jacket, that old rubber one you keep inside its blue confines comes in right handy.

So, to the fishing. I had to run a quick errand at UpCountry Sportfishing, and of course rest stops were an imperative on the drive home. The lower river was low (295cfs) cold, and was largely devoid of hatch activity. I managed to hit two spots before the heavens opened, and took one trout on a size 12 SHPHPT. My final stop produced one more take in a good old-fashioned Noah’s Ark downpour, but as I was bringing the fish in, lightning hit close enough to make me rethink the wisdom of holding an aluminum-tipped pole while standing in a river. So I disengaged and sprinted for the safety of the truck. A little shaken, but quite dry. And I owed it all to the Emergency Bag.

Come to papa. Playing tug-of-war with a standard-issue rainbow.

DCIM100GOPROG0010813.

Striper Report: A little grass shrimp goes a long way

And then there was Plan B. Fished an estuary over the past two nights with mixed results. The first night I missed the tide and most of the fish, although I did get a courtesy tap. There were grass shrimp and a surprising number of small (inch, inch-and-a-half?) clam worms milling about. How nice to see some actual bait and receive the suggestion that there might be something about with stripes other than the skunk.

Last night I was able to negotiate a more favorable tide window. No worms, but a few more shrimp, some silversides, and — what was that? That old familiar pock! echoing across the water. The rise ring was easy to see, and although it took several drifts and dangles over his position, I saw the take and heard the splash before I felt the tug. Lost the next one to a lousy trout hook set, and then all was quiet.

I reconnoitered upstream and sat in the dark, listening for mischief. There it was, though well out of casting range. Then more mischief from the opposite direction. I scrambled into position, but by the time I got set the fish had departed for parts unknown. I gave it another half hour, then decided that I did not want to test the will of the mosquitoes over my fading vitola.

Yeah mon, I caught a striped bass on a bonefish fly. A Crazy Charlie (tan, not the pink you see here) was the middle dropper above an Orange Ruthless clam worm and below a deer hair grass shrimp.

Pink Crazy Charlie

My three fly team looked like this one from last year.

StriperShrimpDropperRig

Striper Report 5/26/15: Won’t get fooled again

And so we close the books on what was easily the worst spring for fly fishing for stripers from the shore in Connecticut I’ve experienced since 2007.

How bad was it? By this time in an average year, I’ve already passed the century mark in stripers landed. A good year? Tally it in hundreds. I think I caught ten this year over the course of fifteen trips, and only three of those outings produced fish. Legal bass? Hah! I think I managed one striper over 20″. (Last year was lousy for big bass, too, with only one legal fish for me all spring. Granted, it was a thirty pounder, but oh, how far the mighty have fallen.)

Blame it on a long winter and a cold spring. Blame it on lack of bait. Blame it low flows in the rivers. Blame it on crashing striper stocks. Blame it on shifting channels. Blame it on every year is different. Blame it on plain old bad luck. One thing is certain: If I’m going to spend four hours in a river in the middle of the night, I gotta feel like there’s a reasonable chance I might find some fish. Folks, I ain’t feeling it.

So, time for Striper Plan B. I’ll let you know how that goes.

In another year, this might represent the number of stripers I’ve caught so far. Instead, it’s a painful reminder of yet another long, fishless night.IMG_1858

Farmington River Report 5/23/15: The Light Cahills are here.

On Saturday my son had a soccer tournament in Avon, and I had a two hour fishing window between the afternoon and evening games. So I hightailed it to the lower river for a highly productive and entertaining two hours of fishing between 4:30 and 6:30. Caddis were out (mostly smaller, size 16). But the real story was my first sighting of Light Cahills. (Call them what you will — Vitreous, PEDs, whatever — if they are creamy-colored size 12 mayflies that hatch in the late afternoon in May, I go with Light Cahills.) it was a proper hatch — I’d rate it a 7 on a 1-10 scale — and there were plenty of trout having at them, slashing and splashing and making a general spectacle with their showy takes.

The wet fly is a fine default method for covering water when there’s nothing much happening. But when a hatch is underway and the trout are actively feeding, it can be highly productive. And besides, fishing under the hatch is just plain fun.

There was a lot of this going on. I can’t ever remember two hours of fishing time passing so quickly. DCIM100GOPROG0020581.

I fished two kinds of water. The first was a snotty, boulder-strewn run with seams and pockets, about 75 yards long. I walked its length, covering the fishy looking areas with my team of three wets, and connected with a half dozen trout and a JV Atlantic salmon. The runaway favorite fly was the size 12 soft-hackled bead head Pheasant Tail.

Next, I focused on a run with a mottled surface that was moving at a moderate walking pace. The hatch began to pick up in intensity, but I still had no takes. So I swapped out the bottom and middle flies (SHBHPT and Dark Hendrickson, respectively) for a size 12 Light Cahill winged wet and a size 14 Pale Watery wingless (Magic Fly). That made all the difference. I caught trout after trout for the better part of 75 minutes. They took all three flies (Squirrel and Ginger was the top dropper), but the Cahill and the PWW were the focal points.

What was interesting about yesterday’s hatch was that even though I got into double-digit numbers, I had to work for most of them. Sometimes when you’re fishing under the hatch, the trout are so keen on gorging themselves that you just need to swing the right fly in front of their noses. Not so yesterday. I specifically targeting actively feeding trout, and only two of them took on the first presentation. Most took a dozen or so casts, often with a break between presentations, and several wouldn’t give the flies a sniff. Also, I typically like to fish wets across and/or down. Yesterday I had a lot of success targeting active feeders that were upstream of me.

I had to drag myself away to get back to the last game. Cam’s team won.

So did mine.