Tag Archives: Farmington River report

The summer pattern settles in

Here we are, already at the mid-point of July. Blink, and you might miss summer. We really don’t have much to complain about weather-wise — it’s standard-issue hot and humid, there have been rains (but nothing catastrophic [he said, knocking on wood]), and the reservoirs are full. The Farmington is running clear and cold — in the 50s coming out of the dam — and at a terrific summer height. Please be sure to carry and use a thermometer, and make your cutoff 67 degrees. You should be able to find ample cold water from the PTMA and points north. Tip of the week: ants, beetles, crickets, and small hoppers, fished in faster water and languid currents under trees and shade. Oh. And small nymphs. You can thank me next time you see me.

Try Stewart’s Black Spider fished as a dropper. Size 16-20, please.

I owe you a Block Island report, and spoiler alert: it’s not good. Locally, I know a few surfcasters who are doing OK. Things may pick up in another 30 days or so.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to play catch-up with my fishing. The yard work is settling down a bit, the garden’s in good shape, and the book is off with others. I think I’ll smoke a few cigars while I’m at it.

Stay cool and have fun.

Farmington River Report 7/8/25: Dodging thunderstorms, swinging wets, catching trout

John and Chris took a wet fly lesson with me on Tuesday, and we were having grand old time — a little streamside classroom action, a leader tying clinic, lots of fantastic Q&A (very inquisitive minds, these two, which I loved). When we finally got into the water, darkness fell across the land, and the thunder rumbles began.

This is good time to say this: get out of the water and seek shelter if there’s a threat of electrical storms. I am routinely astonished that some people still don’t do that. End of public service announcement.

We drove along the river trying in vain to find sunshine, which took about an hour. By then, the storm was over, and we had blue skies and hot weather. We headed north to fish above the PTMA. Finally able to wet a line, we got into some fish, although in the bright sunshine they didn’t come easy. It wasn’t until after the session ended that John and Chris were able to test their new wet fly skills. Both took multiple trout during the evening rise. Tremendous job, gentlemen. Your instructor couldn’t be prouder!

This brown fell for my Partridge and Light Cahill soft hackle. So simple and so effective! John Ryan photo

Sorry, sorry, sorry, or: Book duties keep calling

By now, I’d hoped to be back to my normal routine on these pages. But every time I think I’m in the clear, the book comes a callin’. So that’s why posts have been so spotty. All I can tell you is that when things do return to normal, you’ll be the first to know.

I just finished an article for Surcasters’ Journal. I’ll letcha know when it comes out.

It’s getting steamy out there. Time for the summer under-waders kit.

Fishing in brief: Block Island stunk again this year: slow, slower, slowest. Then there was last week on the Farmington. I gave Andrew a wet fly lesson, and it was likewise a non-action fest. We fished three marks, and it wasn’t until the last one that we found some fish. But Andrew was enthusiastic and persistent, and we ended up with two in the hoop for the win. Great job Andrew! I stayed to fish the evening rise. The location was above the PTMA, and the hatch and rise activity was one of the worst I’ve experienced in a decade. Very little hatching (mostly dorothea) and, almost impossibly, nothing on it except for a few small fish. Highly disappointing. I managed two small wild browns on wet flies and one stocker rainbow on the way out after I could no longer see my fly. Blech!

Of course, we hav the blank canvas of this week, upon which we may paint spectacular fishing images. Yeah. Let’s go with that.

And, we’re back

TGIF! Sorry for the 1-week hiatus, but I was re-called to emergency book duties. I believe — fingers crossed — that I’m all set on that front for a while. I hope. Now I can take some time to do all the things I haven’t done in the last few months, like go fishing. And resume regular posts here. The yard work list is also impressive. And just in time for the heat wave.

This warm weather coupled with cold water should kick-start the hatches on the Farmington, which have generally been lagging. Please be aware of temperature spikes in the afternoon. Carry a thermometer, and if you get 67 degrees or higher, go fish farther upstream. There will be plenty of colder water near the dam –it’s releasing at 52 degrees. You can also fish first light to mid-morning, when water temps will be lowest. Catch ’em up, and have fun.

No. Not this week.

And just like that, I’m back on the book

No rest for the weary. The publisher has asked for more photos (that’s a good thing!) and captions for the Fly Fishing Guide to the Farmington River. So, instead of a report on my small stream outing this week, you get this update. Regular reports will be somewhat on hold until I get this book business finished.

The Farmington River continues to run high out of the gate. Hopefully they’ll reduce it by the weekend. I’m on the river giving a lesson tomorrow. Even the Hous is well over 1K cfs. I suppose a little too much water is better than the D-word.

Have fun, go fishing, and a pre-Happy Father’s Day to all you dads out there!

And I still haven’t gone striper fishing this year! I’m also working on a new piece for Surfcaster’s Journal. Details on that to come.

First roses bloom, Sulphurs here soon

My first hybrid tea rose, Peace, bloomed this week. That means that our creamy and yellow mayfly friends are beginning on the lower river. The waters are down to an excellent 465cfs in Unionville. I’d hop on it, but I am crashing my final draft deadline of June 1. Please wish me luck, and I hope you get out this weekend…or even today.

Peace, baby. It’s a good color to signify the arrival of Sulphurs.

Tip of the Week: Beware (or at least be aware of) the shadow hatch

Who knows why the trout aren’t eating your Hendrickson fly? The Shadow Hatch knows. Shadow hatches are so named because they are concurrent with — and less glamorous than — the hatch you think the trout are eating. In the case of the Hendricksons, the shadow hatches are likely to be tan caddis and BWOs, although in early afternoon, the tan caddis are the likely culprits. This phenomenon manifested last week during my lone outing. I was fishing a team of three flies: Hare’s Lug and Plover (caddis) top dropper, with two Hendricksons below. Hendricksons were in the air and there were rising trout. Yet all of my fish came on the Hare’s Lug and Plover. This is the strongest argument for fishing a team of three: droppers are always the fastest way to find out what the fish want.

This magnificent brown might not have eaten had I not given it the choice of a caddis. You can get a better view of the fish’s weight and size on my Instagram @stevecultonflyfishing — and while you’re at it, please follow me there.

Last week’s underwhelming Hendrickson outing

I managed about 3 hours of fishing last Tuesday, and it was a disappointing. True, I got my first few trout of the year on a swung wet fly. True, the weather was pretty darn nice. True, I rather enjoyed my Ashton VSG torpedo. But the bite and the Hendrickson hatch were disappointing. I’d give the hatch a 4/10 and the bite a 2/10. There just weren’t than many fish rising, and when they did, it was for an all too brief 30-minute window.

Some of the details: I fished with guide extraordinaire Steve Hogan for about an hour. He fished nymphs, I fished wets. He stuck several fish. I didn’t get a touch. We fished in the lower STMA. Water temp was low 50s, good medium-low flow. After Steve left, my action picked up, but again, only for a brief window. I then went to a mark a quarter-mile upstream and fished a 150-yard section with a team of wets, again without a touch. Normally, I would have expected at least a half-dozen fish. I heard from others who fished in the Canton area that it was similarly underwhelming.

I just wrote the section in the book about ID-ing an Atlantic salmon smolt. They’re often confused with small wild browns, but once you learn the specific markers, you won’t ever again mistake a salar for a trutta.

I’m going to try to get out again this week, then continue pounding away on my keyboard. The book is nearing the completed draft home stretch, but not quite there. Still gotta round that clubhouse turn.

Hendricksons are here!

We all could use a good Hendrickson hatch, and now we don’t have to wait. Well, you might have to get to the river early enough to secure a spot, and then wait for the bugs to pop — usually early afternoon — but the hatch is on and moving upriver. I guided James and his daughter Charlotte last Friday on the lower river, and the hatch was just getting started. With favorable air temps forecast for the entire week, now’s the time to jump on it. it should be on in the PTMA this week.

Pick an active feeder during the first phase of the Hendrickson hatch, place one of these soft-hackled Hendricksons over its lie, then hang on.

Hendricksons are one of the mayflies that will be featured in my book. They’ll be part of a general chapter on mayflies (caddisflies, stoneflies, midges, and other food sources are the other four categories) which then breaks down into some of the more popular/important specific hatches. The intent is not create an in-depth, Latin-heavy, scientific bug-biology geek white paper; rather, it’s to give you meaningful, useful information. The better you understand the hatch, the more fish you’ll catch.

Here’s this again in case you missed it: The best soft hackles and wet flies for fishing the Hendrickson hatch.

Monday Potpourri: media, book, fishing, best Hendrickson soft hackles and wet flies

Happy Monday. It’s finally not stupid cold and snowing/raining. And yet, here I am, sitting in my lonely writer’s garret, writing this, then back to writing the book. Sunshine beckons. On the other hand, writing about fishing as a job doesn’t suck.

If you read yesterday’s Courant, you saw the front-page article about the propose hatchery budget cuts. Yours truly is quoted often.

I’m getting toward the home stretch in the book writing. I alternate days when I think I’m in good shape with those when I project abject terror. Ok, that’s a little strong, but I’ll be happy when I’m finally done. I’m still loving what I’ve written so far, and that counts for something.

I will be getting out to the river this week to do a little more location scouting, and then hopefully an hour or so of fishing. Won’t that be wondrous? Can you believe that I have not caught a trout yet this year?

If you’re thinking about taking a lesson with me, please wait until June. I’m doing only one this month, which is unheard of for me, and I may be doing only one in May, also unheard of.

I’ve said it before, but I appreciate everyone’s patience as I throw my energies into the book. Since it’s almost Hendrickson time, here’s one from the archives for all you soft-hackled fly lovers: The Best Hendrickson Soft Hackles and Wet Flies.