Years ago, when I first heard of the Kootenai River, my brain assumed that it was in Alaska. I mean, it sounds like it belongs in the 49th state, doesn’t it? Well, it’s in Montana, and the locals pronounce it “KOOT-en-ee,” not “nye.” So I was wrong on both counts.
Located in the extreme northwest corner of Montana, a ‘way up by Canada, the Kootenai is Montana’s largest tailwater fishery. This is a big, deep river with crystal clear waters that mask its depth; if you’re going to fish it effectively, you really need to be in a drift boat. When we first arrived at our cabin — located just a cast away from the back porch — I thought, “Maybe later I’ll just wade out to that deeper stretch along the opposite bank.” Wrong. The water would have been chest high just 20 feet from shore. Over the next tow days, we floated over pools that were well overhead deep, and you could still easily see the bottom.
This was just a few paces from the back porch of our cabin. Libby, MT, is so far north that on August 1, this is the light at 9:30pm. You can see that the immediate shoreline is wadeable, but then it drops off in a hurry. The Koonetai is wider than the Housatonic in many places, and consistently far deeper. When you’re fishing the Kootenai, you focus on the transition areas between depth and shallow — the “change of color,” as my guide Jeff put it. I did some wet fly fishing, but mostly dry-dropper, with the dropper being another dry or small nymph.We stayed at the Kootenai Angler, run by Dave and Tammy Blackburn. There’s a fly shop on site, and full guide service available, which you’ll need. We rented their Betts Cabin, which was spacious and rustically elegant and wonderful. More than enough room for my me, my wife, and two sons. You can imagine how wide and deep the river must be for it to be flowing at 6,900cfs and still be low and clear!There’s also a restaurant on site. We ate there two nights, and I think my favorite part (besides the good food and incredibly reasonable prices) was being able to buy a bottle of wine, drink half of it, then bring it back the next night to polish it off. I’ll also go on record with this: Tammy Blackburn makes the best sandwiches I’ve ever had on a guided trip. They bring plenty of water, and with my stash of snacks (I’m a growing boy) I was well-fueled both days. The town of Libby is just a 15-20 minute drive, so you can get a breakfast sandwich or sit-down breakfast at a number of locations.The first day, we floated as a family in two boats; Karen and myself in one, the boys in the other. Neither Karen nor Gordon have done any real fly fishing, and both of them did a fantastic job with the learning curve — and yes, they both caught a good number of fish. The Kootenai is primarily a rainbow trout fishery, and they have the state’s only native strain on rainbows, the inland red band. While being out with the family and seeing everyone catch fish was a positive, I wasn’t thrilled with the water we floated over on the first day. Much of it was unremarkable, with flows that were in no rush to get to the ocean. But, I understand that is was good water for the beginners. I was also disappointed with the size of the fish on the first day. What you see here was typical of what we were getting into. Jeff explained that the feeder creeks had gotten too warm, and so much of the resident smaller fish had made their way into the bigger river in search of cold water relief.Then, there were the whitefish. Some consider them to be a trash fish, but they are part of the salmonid family. And it’s a new species for the fly-fishing tally sheet.Jeff Kalwara was my guide for two days. He did an excellent job teaching Karen, managing her rigs, releasing fish, and just being an all-around swell guy. Jeff and I went out solo the next day, but you’ll have to wait to read about that adventure…and more fish…and bigger fish.A guide’s work is never done. This is Jay, who guided Cam and Gordo. When we left Libby at 9am, he was busy in the shop replenishing his stock of guide flies. He also did a commendable job with Gordo, who really hasn’t fly fished proper before this. Well done, gentlemen!
Long-time currentseamsers already know this, but for the newer folks — or for the procrastinators among us (of which I’m one!) — it bears repeating. I have an Instagram account, and on it you’ll find unique material that you won’t see here. For example, in the last couple weeks I’ve posted two how-to videos, one wet fly, and one nymphing, for smallmouth bass. (Now that the book is “done,” I’m hoping to be doing more videos.) Hop to it. You can find and follow me on Instagram at stevecultonflyfishing.
Come see what you’ve been missing on Instagram at stevecultonflyfishing.
It was about this time every year that Ken Abrames would post a reminder on his Striper Moon forum. The forum is long gone, but the sentiment and action statement lives on! Ken’s September Night is by far my favorite finger mullet fly, and you can tie it longer as the mullet get bigger and fatter. I’ve tied this with a ginger marabou collar, and the bass said yes. Here’s a good link with tying instruction from yours truly so you too can tie the September Night.
This might be the sexiest baitfish fly-without-eyes around.
Holy mixed metaphors, Batman! Or would that be idioms? Either way, I wanted to talk about terrestrials today, specifically wet or sunken flies.
It’s prime terrestrial season in these parts. Hoppers, Stimulators, beetles, crickets, ants, flying ants — they’re all fair game. I believe most anglers think of terrestrials as dry flies, and that’s not surprising. Watching a trout stomp a hopper or sip an ant from the surface is one of the big bonuses of summer fishing. Terrestrials also make great floaters for dry-dropper combos, whether it’s a single wet or nymph dropped off a hook bend, or a classic three-fly rig like the hopper-copper-dropper. I like to wander the Farmington’s riffles, runs, and glides on a breezy summer afternoon and prospect with a terrestrial dry and dropper.
But sometimes, I’ll do my terrestrial fishing subsurface. Consider this: what happens to all those hapless land insects that fall into the river? They struggle, and some get eaten. I think most don’t — get eaten — at least not on the surface. All that unconsumed biomass eventually sinks, and becomes a new item on the subsurface menu. Drowned bugs are easier to eat, and require less risk for the trout to dine. Winner: you.
Was a big golden stone. Now, it’s a hapless hopper.
Here are a couple wet flies to get you started on your summer terrestrial wetstravaganza. The Drowned Ant is an old favorite, not too hard to tie, and can be completed with very easy-to get materials. It’s been one of my most consistent producers since I created it. If you’re a fan of the oddball and obscure, try the Hopper Hammerdown, which is based on a steelhead stonefly by Dave Hall. The hits are electric.
Just make sure you have plenty of 4lb. Maxima Ultragreen.
Although I’ve been fishing for over five decades, I didn’t start keeping a fishing log until the summer of 2004. At this point in my life, I was seriously devoted to fly fishing. Being an autodidact, I reckoned that I’d learn more, quicker, and retain more if I could journal and reference my outings. I wasn’t wrong.
Since then, I have logged every fishing trip and every lesson I’ve given. I’ve filled six 192-page books with all kinds of data: place, time, date, water and air conditions, and then a journal-style description of the outing: what worked, what didn’t, what I think I could have done better, etc. What were the hatches/bait, and how strong were they? How were other people doing? What did I do well?
My O.G. log entry about a Farmington River outing with old pal Paul Kingsford. I didn’t even know some of the proper names of the pools; that’s Hawes, aka Bikini Rock, that I called “the big rock boulders/cliffs.” I haven’t changed the format all that much in the last 20+ years.
About 10 years ago, when life seemed to get exponentially busier, I got into a good/bad habit: voice recording my outings, then transcribing them into the journal. It was good because I didn’t have to write it all down immediately; the recording was made minutes after getting off the water, so everything was fresh in my memory. Later, during transcription, I might remember additional details. The bad habit part began when I would get lazy and not fill the pages with reports for weeks. I beg to report that my sloth has gotten so profound that I am now two years — you read that right — behind on my transcriptions. I’ll be getting to that shortly after I post this.
Some of you may wonder why, with today’s e-tech, I even bother handwriting it. Fair point. But I’m an analog guy at heart, and there’s something about my own script that adds humanity to what would otherwise be a cold, antiseptic printed document. Besides, I like my leather-bound hardcover books.
These books are more than a nostalgic preservation of memories. They’re a detailed roadmap to success. I can watch my progression as a fly fisher. I can observe how my best practices evolve. Not everyone’s a writer, but my journals were an invaluable resource when I was writing my Farmington River book. And these journals serve as a bittersweet reminder of what we’ve lost: the epic blitzes on Block Island, the prodigious power of the W/S Caddis hatch, the 50 smallmouth nights on the Housatonic. I still have it all at my fingertips.
I like to say during a lesson or a presentation that I’m not right. But I’ll stand by this statement: if you want to become a better angler — and catch more fish — you should be keeping a log.
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.
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.
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
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.
I can’t remember specifically when I came up with the Grass Shrimp Solution, but it was a long time ago, maybe decades. I do remember wanting to create a fast, simple-to-tie, impressionistic soft hackle that would mimic this tiny bait in size, color, and profile. Years later, this fly continues to be a favorite of other anglers who have discovered its deadly effectiveness. It’s one of my favorites, too.
In case you’ve missed it over the years, or are new to currentseams, here’s a crash course on the pattern. The Grass Shrimp Solution was first published in 2015 in my American Angler article “Soft Hackles for Striped Bass.”It was featured in On The Water’s “Guide Flies” Column. I frequently fish this pattern in estuaries when stripers are selectively feeding on small food items. Here’s an article that covers how to do that. This piece discusses the concepts behind the pattern’s bite triggers. Those four articles ought to keep you busy for while, after which, I would guess, you’ll be heading to your tying table — and then, to the closest tidal marsh or flat.
Here we are again on the FeedSpot Top 40 Fly Tying Blogs list. This is our second time on the list, and for those of you keeping score at home, we are #17. But the ranking isn’t really what this is all about; rather, it’s the company we keep. AvidMax. Fly Tyer. MidCurrent. Gink and Gasoline. Orvis. Just to name a few. These are all quality sites, worthy of your attention, and I’m honored to be included in their company. So, yay us!
The summer striper box, from seasons past, raring to go. Those are Big Eelie variants on the right. I love the colors, although I’m not sure the stripers care all that much. Catching a big fish on fly you tied is one of the more rewarding aspects of our hobby/sport.
currentseams.com 