Tag Archives: Farmington River report

Farmington River Mini-Report 9/10/14: Getting there

The DEEP did their broodstock gathering/census on Tuesday, and this morning the flows were nearly back to normal. I fished four spots from 9am-1pm with varying degrees of success: a) one JV Atlantic Salmon, b) a nice assortment of wild browns in the 12″-14″ class, c) blank, d) a brown trout LDR. I stuck with the indicator nymphing thing, and I learned after my fifth (I was a little slow today) weight tag break off that one BB shot played nicer than two. The water was lower than it has been, albeit cool for early September, and it had a light stain. A bit of a funky pond smell in the air. All the takes today were nearly imperceptible; a subtle stall or shudder of the indicator, rather than its wholesale disappearance. Lift your rod, hook point finds insertion, and the dance begins. They liked the size 12 BH Squirrel and Ginger. Forgot my camera, so no photos. Sorry, Ansel.

I hope I enjoyed it, because tomorrow I shall be chained to a desk.

Farmington River Mini-Report 8/22/14: Wet and wild

I had two hours to fish on Friday afternoon, so I jumped on it. I bounced around the lower river, visiting a few spots that I hadn’t fished all year. The air had a fall-like feel; it was overcast, and the river was running at 417cfs and 66 degrees. Bug activity was sparse and sporadic: a few small caddis, midges, and BWOs. 

This was a dedicated-to-the-wet-fly-cause outing. I swung a team of a sz 12 hackled March Brown on top, a sz 14 Drowned Ant in the middle, and the old reliable sz 12 soft-hackled BHPT on point. (I like a tungsten bead head fly on point when the water is running higher than normal. With a few strategic mends, it sinks the team faster, and also expedites deeper short line dead drift presentations.)

The PT was the runaway favorite fly. I hooked a nice assortment of wild browns with a few JV salmon in the mix. I had some hideous luck as well: not once, but twice I lost a good fish when he went deep and one of the flies on my team got entangled on rocks or vegetation. I lost two-thrids of my rig on the last one and called it a day.

Fat, healthy, and ready to rumble, these wild Farmington River browns are a treat to catch. Many of the takes today were subtle; more of a building of pressure on the mended swing than a clobbering hit. Good stuff.

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Farmington River Report 8/12/14: Before the rains came

It’s been a slow summer for me swinging wets on the Farmington. Until today.

They dropped the flow from the dam to 340cfs, placing the upper river at a near-ideal 375cfs, and the lower river at 400cfs. Water temp on the lower river at 2pm was 66 degrees, darn good for mid-August, and no doubt cooler still at the bottom.

I visited several locations today on both ends of the river and found plenty of trout willing to jump on the wet fly. I fished my usual three-fly team; today it was a size 12 Squirrel and Ginger top dropper, a size 14 Drowned Ant in the middle, and a size 12 soft-hackle BHPT on point. I caught trout on all three flies, and even had a Farmington River Grand Slam with at least one brown, brookie, rainbow, and Atlantic salmon in the mix. One of today’s salmon was approaching the double-digit inches mark. Salar the Leaper indeed.

A staggeringly beautiful wild Farmington brookie who took a Drowned Ant on a mended swing. This is one of the best fish I’ve ever landed on this river, a tremendous fighter worthy of your applause. Also note the classic contrasting colors of the fontinalis fin.

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With the lower flows, my focus was on exploring some treacherous snotty water that had been previously out of reach. I almost went swimming a few times, and I even breached my waders when I stepped into a chest-high hole. (Please use a wading staff when you’re wading swift or difficult sections.)

Very little in the way of hatch activity today, although the Cedar Waxwings were busy.

The big one — 20+ inches —  on a wet fly still eludes me this year. But with a bounty of wild browns like this one, I’m not complaining.

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Farmington River Report 8/6/14: Follow the Heinie Trail

It seemed stupid to spend close to two hours driving to fish for only seventy-five minutes. But I did it anyway.

I turned my attentions to a snotty section of the lower river. At 510 cfs it was a challenging wade. I didn’t bring my thermometer, but it felt about 65 degrees at index finger depth. Not bad for early afternoon on a sunny day in August.

This year, the wet fly fishing has been slower than usual for me. I think some of it has to do with the elevated flows. I probably should be doing more nymphing. At least the trout are happy. I fished size 12 Squirrel and Ginger on top dropper, a sz 12 Drowned Ant in the middle, and a size 12 soft-hackleBHPT (tungsten bead) on point. I had several raps from those pesky JV salmon; I landed one of them. What a tub of fish flesh. Almost perch-shaped. I dropped a brown who was hiding behind a rock with a dopey reaction hook set. The one brown that came to hand was wild and in the foot-long class. He was quite exuberant in his reluctance to come to net.

That one fish was just enough to cover my lack of good judgement.

Classy litterers only leave premium cans behind. This says, “I’m not just a rude, ill-bred person; I’m a rude, ill-bred person with exceptional taste.” 

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Someone enjoying a snack in the cool shade of the tree-lined riverbank.

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Farmington River Report 7/31/14: Saving the best for last

I have to confess there are times when I am completely flummoxed by this river and its residents. Like last night.

I arrived on the upper TMA at 5:45pm, committed to the dry fly cause, cane rod and 14-foot leader ready. Here’s what I was dealing with over the next couple hours: trout feeding on caddis emergers. Trout rising delicately to something very small. Trout slashing violently on the surface, breaking the film and leaving an air bubble. Trout taking sulphur and March Brown duns off the top. All of it rather haphazard, with no consistency to the rise forms or even with specific fish feeding. In one thirty second period, five fish would rise. Then nothing for the next fifteen minutes. Random would be a good word.

So I took a kitchen sink approach to fly selection. Small Magic Fly. Big Cahills. Small Cahills. Small caddis emergers. Small ants. All I had to show for it was a bunch of refusals and a JV Salmon on the Magic Fly. So I made a plan: as darkness fell, the trout would get sloppy. A size 12 Light Cahill would do the trick.

And that’s how I managed to cross paths with this handsome fellow, a wild brown in the high teens  who gave me a thrilling battle on the click-and-pawl South Bend:

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I stuck a few more of his friends even after it was too dark to see the fly. Then celebrated with a cheeseburger from Five Guys.

River notes: upper TMA 475 cfs. Golden stones (about a size 14) came out at nightfall. Water running cool and clear.

Farmington River Report 6/18/14: Thank goodness for 7pm

Kevin and Aidan took my Wet Flies 101 class yesterday evening. The upper TMA was a perfect height, 375cfs, running crystal clear and 55 degrees. A little stream side classroom, then on the water at 5pm. The sulphurs made a showing along with some caddis, but there was nothing rising. We gave the spot 90 minutes, then decided to move. Right call. We found some river that was a good transition point between classic wet fly and classic dry fly water. It had bugs coming off and fish rising. Best of all, it was unoccupied(!?!). The hatch was strongest from 7pm to around 8:15. Plenty of size 16 sulphurs with the trout keyed on the emergers — I didn’t see a single dun taken off the surface. I rigged Kevin up with a Magic Fly for some wet-fished-as-dry action (we started off with an 18 but downsized to a 20) while Aidan stayed subsurface with the swung wet. Both guys did a great job targeting active feeders, and both connected with trout. Around 8pm I rigged Aidan for wet-fished-as-dry and he stuck several fish. Great job, gents. We won the hatch and weather lottery.

Kevin battling a wild brown who fell for a Pale Watery wingless wet.

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A good number of trout were enjoying the sulphur hatch as much as we were.

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Attentive anglers catch more fish. Aidan focusing on his drift, ready to strike.

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After the gig, I took a break and waited for the dark of night. It was not a good night for me to forget my headlamp — it’s an adventure stumbling across a boulder-strewn riffle or trying to stay on the path through the woods in total darkness. Not quite on the darkness, really. The fireflies put on a spectacular light show. I’ve never seen so many, so active.

I fished from 9:45 to midnight, throwing big streamers in hopes of connecting with a big ol’ brown. Not tonight. I did get three bumps, but no hook sets. Oh. And a beaver stalked me in one of the pools I fished. That’s always fun. I was glad I didn’t hook him. Though if I did, it would serve him right.

Farmington River Report 6/16/14: Business (almost) as usual

Since I didn’t get to go fishing on Father’s Day, Monday was my night. I was sure with the warmer weather the bugs would be thick. I was wrong. I arrived a popular dry fly pool on the upper TMA at 5pm. (Thanks to Ed and his friend, whose name I didn’t catch, for sharing the water.) Very little action for the first hour. Even when the hatch picked up (I’d rate the sulphur hatch a four on a scale of ten points) there were few fish rising, and most of them only sporadically. Every trout I hooked over the course of the evening was an active feeder. I fished the first hour with a size 18 cream Usual and landed three browns. Then I switched over to the Magic Fly, size 18. The fly was refused three times, but after I moved down to a 20, no more refusals (the naturals were probably a 16). Once darkness enveloped me, it was the classic Catskill Light Cahill, size 12. Two more on that. On the last one, I completely missed the take. I was picking up the line to recast, and I noticed the leader moving upstream. So, while the hatch wasn’t epic, I managed about a dozen fish. Which is a darn good way to spend the day after Father’s Day.

And still: what’s with everyone leaving once the game gets going? I had the whole pool to myself from 8:15-9:00pm.

Today’s lesson: that tiny rise ring that could only have been formed by a juvey Atlantic salmon that you cast to anyway because there were no other targets? It’s really a well-fed, 14″ wild brown. Happened to me twice.

River stats: 400cfs, 53 degrees, sulphurs, lots of midges (grey and cream), a few small size 18 tan caddis and a few size 16 black caddis.

You find irises like these everywhere on the Farmington River. They’re really quite lovely.

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Farmington River Report 6/11/14: The evening rise is on

Speaking of seasons, ’tis the time to break out ye olde bamboo dry fly rod and cast to trout feeding on sulphurs.

I started out swinging wets on the lower river at 4:30pm. Several hatches were underway, including sulphurs and March Browns. Not a riser to be seen, which may explain why, to my astonishment, I blanked. I am always surprised when I don’t catch anything on wets during a hatch. This was mighty humbling.

Although I love the wet fly, and am an avid practitioner of the ancient art, I do have a soft spot for the dry. After giving the lower river a  half hour, I headed for dry fly water in the upper TMA. At 5:30pm, there were already two anglers in position. I moved to the head of the pool, not an ideal location due to several murderous current seams, eddies, and water that sped along in one place while languishing in another. This would require a series of complex tactical mends to get a good drift. That was fine with me. We like a challenge at Currentseams.

Dense fog blanketed the water (353cfs, and a chilly 52 degrees). A decent rise during the first emergence (sulphurs, March Browns) from 5:30pm-7pm. I was rusty. I dropped the first six trout I hooked. The action waned from 7pm-7:30pm, then picked up again (sulphurs, March Browns, grey caddis, BWOs). I finally got my mojo back, and landed every trout I hooked until 9pm when I called it.

Moonrise through the fog over the Farmington. When I took this shot a little after 9pm, I was the only one in the pool — besides a bazillion bugs and scores of hungry trout.

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I fished three patterns tonight, and caught trout on all of them: size 16 Pale Watery Wingless Wet (treated with Frog’s Fanny and fished on the surface), size 14-16 cream Usual, and a size 10 Light Cahill Catskill once it got dark. I am always amazed that people will leave a pool around 8pm. This time of year, the slot from 8pm-9pm is double-bonus action time. I lost count of the number of trout I landed in that hour. The last two I caught, I couldn’t even see the fly, and the last, not even the rise ring. I just lifted my rod tip and there he was.

My original leader length was 12 feet (6x tapered leader). Once I added three more feet of 6x, I found it a lot easier to get truer drifts.

You haven’t eaten in hours, and now you’re standing by the counter at Five Guys, desperately wanting your burger and fries. Whoever decided to put a big box o’ peanuts (note scoop, encouraging large portions) to  ease the torture of anticipation is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

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Farmington River Mini Report 6/3/14: All for the lack of a hat

Fished the Farmington from 3pm to about 7:30pm. Today’s mission was to hit a bunch of spots I haven’t fished in a long time, swing some wets, anticipate a strong evening hatch, and hope the trout were looking up. Things started poorly when I forgot my fishing hat. I mean, I need my fishing hat. My head felt naked. Exposed. It just wasn’t right. Serves me right for wearing it to Sunday’s soccer games, then taking it into the house (the hat stays in the truck when not in use. Idiot.) Spot A was a run that dumps into a deep pool. Swarms of mating black caddis (size 16) everywhere. No hits. I was surprised. Moved down to a second run where I scored Rainbowzilla. He took a size 10 soft-hackled bead head Pheasant Tail on a dead drift. This guy went straight to the reel and peeled off twenty feet of line. Just as I was netting him, he popped off. My rig flew into a tree. Lost it trying to retrieve it. I blame the lack of a hat. Motored off to a tricky wade where I was sure I’d get into trout. Nope. Just juvenile salmon. Two of them. A hundred yards down, hard against a bank, is a deeper-than-you-think little run. Same drill: dead drift, second mend, and I’m on with Son of Rainbowzilla, another some-teen inch brute. Unlike the first rainbow, this one had been in the river for a year. Deep pink lateral band, fatter than Mama Cass, and flawless paddle fins. Netted him, then lost him when he leapt from the net as I readied the camera, snapping off the bottom two flies on my team of wets. This bad mojo is clearly what comes to those who are foolish enough to leave their hat at home. The next two runs involved a lot of walking for absolutely no catching (have I mentioned that I forgot my hat?). Ended up at a place where I was sure the late afternoon transition into evening would bring a substantial hatch of Light Cahills or Sulfurs. Instead, I got a picking-up-breeze and ominous clouds …but nonetheless, some trout willing to jump on. I took two more rainbows in a half hour. Then the heavens opened up. Just when I was saying, “OK, time to go” out loud, bam! A nice wild brown. All three fish again took the point fly, a simple bead head, plain rabbit fur fuzzy nymph — only every take was on the swing. I got totally soaked on the way back to the car.

I really wouldn’t have gotten so wet if I’d had my fishing hat on.

A bronze totem from the wild tribe. He’s the reason I took such a good soaking. Thanks, friend.

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These simple white flowers are all over the river. They have dark and light blue cousins, too.

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Swing shift

As the Farmington rages (again) at a million cfs, we fondly recall Thursday, when the flows in the upper TMA were a very wadeable 460, the water temperature was 50, and the anglers swinging wets were two.

I had the pleasure of instructing two old friends, Gary and Joe, in Wet Flies 101. I don’t use the “p” word as a throw-away adjective; both were strong casters and anglers and they made my job about as easy as it gets. We began the day under a gloomy overcast and dense fog banks. Hatch activity was nil. The fishing was only slightly better; Gary had the hot hand early, and since Joe was fishing well I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t having more action other than being, as they say in soccer, unlucky.

Gary hooks up on the swing.

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Hello, my little yellow friend.

 

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After a steady late morning rain, we agreed we had beaten the water to pieces, and decided to head upriver. Run A proved unproductive. I hemmed and hawed about where to go next; every once in a while I get lucky, and off we went to Run B. Ding-ding-ding! That was the dinner bell ringing for a good 2:30pm showing of BWOs. Once the hatch started, so did the bite. Gary got into some active feeders, then suddenly Joe was on fire, hooking up multiple times.

We often wish each other well with, “tight lines.” Joe turns our fondest hopes into reality.

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The fish, a beautiful Survivor Strain brown, bathed in reflected light and liquid elements.

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After Gary and Joe’s session ended, I decided I deserved a little wet fly time. The run I wanted to fish was occupied, so I made a few unproductive casts at its head before venturing a few hundred yards upriver. WHACK! on the dangle below me, a substantial rainbow that strenuously objected to being brought to net. A few more customers, then one last brown on the mended swing, netted as the smoke from my El Rey del Mundo curled upward into the windless sky.

A good way to end the day. Some intriguing marking on this fish, from haloed orange dots to married black splotches.

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