The Master Splinter is an impressionistic mouse pattern I put into heavy rotation this summer. You can read all about it on the J.Stockard blog by clicking here.
Mouse flies like the Master Splinter bring out the worst in big Farmington River browns.
Once again, the Governor of the jolly old yo-ho-ho State of Connecticut has decided that a good way to save money would be to close our hatcheries. Never mind all that stuff about Connecticut and the Farmington River being a destination for anglers all over the northeast, or those bothersome guides and small businesses that would go under without a viable fishery, and never mind all the pesky retail sales and business entity taxes — who has time to count all that up, anyway?.
(The author of this post now gives out a long sigh, and searches for a word that best describes Governor Malloy’s thinking. Ah. “Obtuse.” Yes, that’s it.)
So, here’s how you can help. Sign this petition.
Thanks.
Fred here is in favor of keeping our hatcheries. But Fred can’t sign the petition. Help a brother out, will you?
Now you can meet, up-close and personal, the fly that has taken the currentseams community by storm: the Hare and Copper variant.
I first saw the Hare and Copper in the Spring 2012 issue of Fly Tyer, in a piece written by George Daniel called “Confidence Flies.” The original calls for a Knapek Nymph Hook, red wire, Dark Pardo Coq de Leon tail, black tungsten bead, and an entire body of dark brown SLF Squirrel dubbing. You can see below how I modified it to suit my tastes. This is really nothing more than a slightly souped-up cross between a Pheasant Tail and a Hare’s Ear. No wonder trout like it. A fine addition to your fuzzy nymph stash.
Hare and Copper Nymph variant
A quick session to tune up the old indicator nymphing skills. Water was 255cfs, low for this time of year, and leaves (mostly oak) were a factor. Only fished for 90 minutes, and managed a big, fat rainbow with a wide pink band that, in true steelhead fashion, refused to come quietly to net. Taken on a Hare’s Ear and SLF bead head fuzzy nymph, size 12.
Baron von Chunkenstein. The indicator goes down, the rod tip goes up, and madness ensues.
Many thanks to the HFFA for hosting me last night. The pre-game meal was both delicious and appreciated (see Culton’s Rule of Presentation, AKA “A fed presenter is a happy presenter.”) I hadn’t given the “Wet Flies 101” program in some time, so it was nice to return to an old friend. Speaking of old friends, there were many familiar faces in the audience, which is always gratifying. Thanks to everyone who took the time to come out, share their experiences, and ask so many good questions.
Winged wets like these have been fooling trout for hundreds of years, and the fish aren’t getting any smarter.
I have two more appearances in December — more on those soon.
I’m not just into fly fishing for the chicks and drugs and hotel points. I’m also in it for the freedom factor. To able to be outside on a November day when the sun is warm, the river clear, the cigar tasty, and most of the rest of the world is working does a soul incalculable good. So what if the the catching is lousy? The fishing, my friends, is downright brilliant.
This year’s Housy streamer trip came late. I hit four name pools with my Mickey Finn soft-hackled streamer. I swung, mended, stripped, and dangled. One touch with no hook set was all I could manage. The water was an easily wadeable 565cfs, cold, with just the slightest of tea stains. A short trip, two hours, and I nursed my Gispert churchill for the better part of the outing. Swarms of small stuff, mostly midges, without a single riser.
And so, with big river visions taking up residence in my brain, we turn our sights to steelhead.
No tonic like it indeed.
No scary monsters. No ghoulish goblins. Just a good group of people who share a passion for fly fishing. That’s a pretty fair way to describe Halloween at the Arts of the Angler show. If you’re one of the people who stopped by to chat, ask questions, or watch me tie, thanks for taking the time. I truly appreciate your interest and your enthusiasm. And many thanks to the people from the Catskill Fly Fishing Center and Museum for your hospitality.
Steve C. That’s me.
My next appearance is this week:
Thursday, November 5, “Wet Flies 101 — The ancient and traditional art of subsurface fly fishing” at the HFFA meeting, St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Wallingford. For more information and directions, visit https://www.facebook.com/HousatonicFlyFishermen
Even after Wednesday’s rain and a healthy bump in water levels (up to about 450 cfs, slight stain), the story yesterday was leaves. Lots and lots of leaves. A couple midges, a stray caddis, some lonely mayflies, and what seemed like the castoffs from every tree in People’s State Forest. Streamers were the plan, and if I threw enough mends to sink the fly I hooked less flora, but for the two hours I fished there was a distinct lack of fauna.
And there it is, in a nutshell.
~
And it almost didn’t happen. I opened the back of my truck to discover I’d left my waders at home. Sal to the rescue! Sal is a friend and the owner of Legends On The Farmington. Did he have a pair of waders I could snag for a couple hours? You betcha. A JR Cuban Alternate robusto for a pair of Simms. Done and done. Sal’s place is gorgeous, and it’s right on the river at Greenwoods.
So much depends on a pair of tan waders, glazed with river water beside the white door.
Doctor, ain’t there nothing I could take to relieve this fishing ache? Yup. Accept an invitation from Dean Keister to join him at the lovely Limestone Trout Club in East Canaan, CT, and you’ll be in fine fettle, Steve. As the brochure copy reads, Limestone offers fly fishing in a scenic 94-acre parcel, featuring six unique ponds (old limestone quarries).
There’s something about fishing within a gated area that makes you feel suitably impressed with yourself (even if you’re just a guest). But there’s not a whiff of snootiness at Limestone. Everyone is so kind and welcoming.
So. Fishing at Limestone is like fishing in a natural aquarium. Squadrons of trout cruise past your feet, oblivious to your offerings. Every so often the water erupts with the mighty crash of a trout chasing a caddis or whacking a bug. The fish are impressive, to say the least — not only long (over 20″ is not rare) but also fat. It’s cool and and it’s beautiful, and I want to go back.
I had a quality take at a size 16 beetle, and several delicate rises to a size 20 archival English midge pattern (Smut #1, black wool body with a white soft-hackle), but sadly, no hookups for me that day. Refusals came early and often. I tried streamers, and witnessed many follows, and felt a few bumps, but again no hook sets.
Thanks so much for the invite, Dean, and to all you Limestone trout: I know where you live.
I think this gentlemen’s name is Bill McDougall — we shared the same pond and had numerous fish interested in the small black flies we presented on the surface. This trout slammed Bill’s tiny black caddis like it was a mouse pattern. What a gorgeous fall day!
Consider the humble Pheasant Tail. Basic brown. Unpretentious. Traditional. Looks like nothing specific and a lot of things in general. Add a bead head — copper, if you please, which feels more understated than gold. But let’s not stop there. Let’s give our fly the breath of life. A soft hackle will do. Webby brown hen that pulses and moves and whispers to the fish, “I’m alive.”
If you told me I had to choose one fly to fish for trout for the rest of my life, it would be a soft-hackled bead head Pheasant Tail. You can fish it like a nymph, fish it like a wet, or do both. All on the same drift. Woo-hoo!
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