Tag Archives: Farmington River report

A few courtesy bumps. Thank you for playing.

The t-shirt would read, “I slogged all over the Farmington River for three hours in the dark, and all I got was a handful of small hits.”

Maybe it was the weather change. Maybe it was the slight stain in the water from the rains. Maybe the DEEP pulled all the big fish out for breeding. Maybe it just wasn’t my night.

After outings like this, I tell myself this is the price you pay for those off-the-charts nights where you get two dozen bumps and three or four quality fish.

Truthfully, it was worth it alone for starting off in the rain and finishing under starlight, watching my smoke rings drift off into the cool blackness of the night.

Wherefore art thou?

Big wild brown hen 8-2015

Why I love the Survivor Strain program

Not every big fish in the Farmington is wild. Here is a Survivor Strain brown from a recent outing. Large, well-developed fins, clipped adipose, and some distinctive haloing around the lower spots. I wonder what else is in that belly? The fish’s attack was textbook big brown: hit, hit, then the take. You read so many reports of people catching 18″ trout on the Farmington that I suspect a good percentage of those fish are actually short of 18, what with it being such a nice, round default number. But I can tell you with certainty that this fish was at least 18″, measured against my landing net, which I’m pleased to report had some difficulty accommodating the catch.

Farmington Survivor Strain brown

Tag Team Nymphing

I’ve been teaching Rob how to fly fish, and Friday afternoon we met for a quick indicator nymphing lesson. Even though Rob is completely new to the fly game, he landed a juvenile Atlantic salmon his first time out. Friday was our second session, and it was slow going. There wasn’t much (if any) visible hatch activity, and the water was slightly stained from the day’s earlier rains. Rob did great job casting, mending, and presenting.

Everyone learns differently, and after an hour Rob said he wanted to watch me fish. We were targeting a riffle that dumps into some deeper water, and as the two-fly rig completed the dead-drift phase, the flies began to swing up. The indicator went under, and I handed the rod off to Rob, who landed this fine wild brown.

Some substantial shoulders on this wild Farmington brown. You can just make out the faint parr remnants, and those haloed spots speak volumes about how lovely these fish can be. Taken on the bottom fly of a two-fly rig, a size 14 olive Iron Lotus.

wild Farmington River brown

Farmington River Report: I have 20. Do I hear 21?

Some fish are gifts. Others are earned.

I got a little of both on this one. Earned by putting in my time for the past six weeks, then slogging through woods and water for thirty minutes on a steamy water-pouring-down-your-face August night, dodging beavers and raccoons and who knows what else just to get to this bloody out-of-the-way spot. Then, gifted with a sharp tug just five minutes into the fishing.

Battle details: taken in water moving at a good walking pace. The hit came as the dead drift transitioned to the swing. Two sharp tugs, then hook set (it has been reaffirmed this summer that the big ones rarely miss if you let them finish the job). Once hooked, the fish sounded as is the habit of larger trout. The interior dimensions of my net are 17×13: It took multiple attempts to net him, including one botched swipe where aluminum rim collided with spotted flank in a manner it probably ought not. The fly was an olive over black Master Splinter foam-backed mouse.

For some reason, the walk out seemed quicker.

Fishin’, writin’, ‘n’ stuff

Busy is the word here at currentseams, although I have been able to get out a little bit. Due to my schedule it’s all been night action.

I fished the Farmington twice this week with mixed results. The first night was painfully slow; two or three bumps in two hours, all small fish. Last night was far more active with over a dozen bumps. One standard-issue brown to net, and one big mysterious hit that failed to hold. I did do something stupid last night: I walked down a side stem I hadn’t fished in two years to discover it was basically unfishable, then decided to walk back up a different stem that was fast, deep, and should have been the one I fished. What a workout! It wasn’t a total waste of time as I did find some very fishy hide holes that I will investigate on a future outing.

On the writing front, I just submitted a steelhead piece to Mid Atlantic Fly Fishing Guide, and I’m putting the finishing touches on a soft-hackled flies for stripers article for American Angler. There are a few other things in the pipeline at some other pubs; I’ll let you know if they are accepted.

Finally, currentseams has reached 300 followers. Hooray! That means a fly giveaway. Details on that coming soon.

As always, thank you for your loyal readership. Writers aren’t much without readers, so I truly appreciate it.

Come say hello to currentseams. I know it’s my site, but really, most of it doesn’t suck. While you’re here, sign up to follow. You’ll get fishing reports, how-to articles, essays, fly tying, photos, videos, random stuff like this, and the occasional chance to win some flies tied by yours truly. 

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Farmington River Report: The rewards of putting in your time

After more blanks and (relatively speaking) dinks than I’d care to mention, finally a really good night. Hit four spots and found hungry fish in three of them. I had more bumps than I could count. Four fish to net, three in the upper teens, and the fourth just in at 20″.

This buck was hiding under a tree, waiting to ambush. Taken on the dead drift.

Brown Buck 8-15

~

A substantial hen that crushed the fly on the swing.

Brown Hen 8-2015

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Saving the best for last. She whacked the fly on the swing, then followed up, but no hook set. Two casts later, I started to strip at the end of the swing. Ker-POW! I had a little trouble fitting her in the net.

Big wild brown hen 8-2015

Why I like foam-backed mouse patterns

Because if the gator brown photos come out lousy, you still have a record of a good night.

Evidence from a recent outing. This fly is called the Master Splinter (not my design). You can find the pattern recipe if you do an online search.

Chewed Mouse

Farmington River Mini Report 7/29/15: If only the fishing were this hot

You know it’s hot when you’re standing up to your waist in sixty-degree water and there’s sweat streaming down your face — and it’s only 10am.

I fished from 9am to 1pm today. My focus was on prospecting for bigger trout by nymphing the fast water. No bigguns’, but I did get into an assortment of lovely wild browns, one in the mid teens. I used the drop shot rig under a yarn indicator, with a size 14 olive Iron Lotus on the bottom and a size 16 soft-hackled Pheasant Tail as the top dropper. I adjusted between one and two BB shot, depending on the depth of the water and the speed of the current.

Now that is one impressive tail. Full adipose, nice little kype — this buck is a surely a wild thang. Taken on the SHPT. Why I like indicator nymphing: the indicator never went under with this guy. It was the slightest of takes, almost imperceptible. The indicator just suddenly slowed and twitched. Remember, it doesn’t cost anything to set the hook.

Wild Farmy Brown 7/29/15

Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the full sun. Maybe it was the lack of hatch activity. But I blanked in three runs today that I was certain held fish. The other three I hit all produced. Go figure — I did better outside of the permanent TMA. The river was surprisingly busy for a mid-weekday.

If you are heading out in this heat, please don’t forget to hydrate. And while the water is still plenty cold, let’s do our best to get those fish in and released quickly.

A jewel of a mid-summer Farmington brown. I can’t decide what I like better: the halos around the spots, the golden belly, or the parr mark remnants.

Wild Farmy Brown 2 7/29/15

Farmington River Tip of the Week

Yesterday, I went fishing. Sunny, middle of July, and windy. The perfect day for a grasshopper to get blown off its perch and into the water.

I fished some fast water — a mix of riffles and pockets that ranged from shin high to waist deep — with a team of three wets. The top dropper was a just-about-too-small-for-a-hopper-and-way-too-big-for-a-caddis fly I call The Monstrosity. Size 8-10 streamer hook, body of yellow or insect green rabbit fur, gold wire rib, palmered with webby brown hackle. Deer hair wing lashed at the junction of thorax and abdomen, same deer hair strands tied over the thorax, then a caddis-like head. Simple. Impressionistic. By mending the line I was able to keep that fly on or just below the surface.

The trout loved it.

Back you go, Tubby. Thanks for playing. Look at that sky. Ain’t summer grand?

Brown release

I whipped through the run in 45 minutes. No hatch, no active surface feeders, but the fish picked that fly out to the exclusion of all others (Drowned Ant and SHBHPT). None of the trout I brought to hand were under fifteen inches. And I regret to report that I lost a pig of a brown just as I was coaxing him into the net.

Hoppers. Wet or dry, ’tis the season.

Not the fly I was fishing — this is a Hopper Hammerdown, which is a little bigger than The Monstrosity and doesn’t have the soft hackle palmered along the whole body. But you get the idea and the energy of the design.

Culton_Hopper_Hammerdown

Farmington River Report 7/18/15: Wet, Dry, Pow!

After the Wet Flies 101 class I wandered off to investigate a snotty, treacherous boulder field with a team of wets. From top dropper to point, a size 12 Partridge and Light Cahill, a size 12 Hackled March Brown, and a size 12 BHSHPT. The sulphurs and Isos were out, as were the Cedar Waxings, who were having a regular airborne feast. I witnessed several sulphurs make it out of the river, only to be snapped up by an open beak moments after their emergence. The wet fly fishing started slowly, but as the hour hand moved past 6pm, things picked up. I ended up with over a half dozen fish, all wild browns save for one recent stockee, that ranged from eight inches to the low teens. I took them on the swing, the dangle, and short line deep. Some of them were active feeders; it’s always fun to successfully target specific fish, but I’ll take the ones that aren’t showing themselves just as readily.

The smallest trout of the day, but surely one of the hardest fighters. He hammered the BHSHPT on the swing.

Fast Water Wild Brown

Part Two of the evening was dedicated to the dry fly cause. At least in theory it was. I fished a spot that has seen declining numbers in fish in recent years, and sadly, that trend continued last night. I saw only handful of rises over the course of two hours. (I think I saw two dozen rises as I drove over the bridge at Church Pool earlier in the day.) Some olives and stenos, but not many of them. I was able to get two offers to the dry, but no hook sets.

Now well into dusk, the dry skunk would have been a bummer way to end the day. So I took the long way home and walked a pool with a nameless cone head black marabou streamer tied to the end of my leader. Plenty of bumps as darkness fell kept me entertained, but no hookups meant the fish were smaller than the foot-and-a-half-plus browns I was after. Off to Spot B where I couldn’t see squat due to the dense fog bank that had settled over the river. A bit of a disappointment with only one bump and no hook sets. (I know there are some bigger fish that live there. Where you at?)

Finished up at Spot C with an olive Zoo Cougar. The fog enveloped me with its chilly fingers, but I could now see some stars in the clearing skies. It was quiet.

Quiet enough to hear the sound of the brown as it tracked the streamer down and across the current. Bump! No return strike. A second cast to the same general area, same swing, same retrieve, same sound effects…Whack! There he is, a mid-teens brown that put a smile on my face and a skip in my wading step.

Then, a few minutes later…plop. I heard the fly hit the water. CRASH! The sound of the take came before I felt the tug or even managed to get the rod into post-cast position. Another good fish, not quite a bruiser, but aggressive enough to charge headlong at what must have looked like a most satisfying dining experience.

Speaking of food, I was famished. So I sped off to the McDonald’s in Unionville, which I discovered is closed at 11:30 on a Saturday night. Really? Closed? Saturday night? Contrary to the corporate tagline, I wasn’t lovin’ it.

That last brown must have felt the same way.