We’re preparing to host a big family reunion, so no fishing for me today. I hope you’ve been able to get out — I have, and the cooler weather this week has been a welcome respite from the relentless cycle of heat and humidity.
To the salt: A shout out to The Saltwater Edge for their Local Singles Program. Even if you’re not a spin angler, you can take a lesson from its energy — reducing striped bass C&R mortality — by mashing down the barbs on your flies. It really makes a difference. Earlier this month on Block Island, I deep hooked two bass on Big Eelie patterns. in both cases, the hook came out with ridiculous ease, with no blood nor visible damage, because I was fishing barbless. Come to think of it, it’s getting close to time to tie up some…nah, we’ll wait…
The Fly Fishing Guide to the Farmington River book project process continues. I’ll be out on the river a lot this week, both guiding, fishing, and shooting photos. If you see me, please come say hello.
Writing-wise, I’m working on the hatches section, and choosing flies to match. It just occurred to me that most of what gets the attention this time of year is either large or yellowish. Then I remembered, how many times have I seen tiny BWOs (20-26) in the air? How many times has a fishless outing turned because I started fishing a Tiny BWO parachute? The answer is: many. Tiny BWOs may not be the sexiest hatch in midsummer, but they are important. Now, let’s also not forget the attenuata…or the egg-laying caddis…
I recently fished 6 nights on Block Island, and this once vibrant shore fishery continues to struggle. I checked my records and found one night in 2018 when I landed 12 stripers; this year I managed 10 stripers in 6 nights with 2 skunkings, which ain’t exactly lighting it up. Once again, the key to success was finding a pattern and hammering away. I spent the first two nights trying to find a pattern, which meant bouncing around the Island, fishing different marks at different tide stages. I had a good moon in terms of darkness, but the tide heights were crappy, which didn’t help. Once I found bass, I returned to that mark at a similar tide stage the next night, although I still had to put in my time to get a couple fish. We left early this year because the fishing was lousy and we had a rain day we could fill with packing. Here’s to better days and a return to glory for this sacred fishing ground.
On the first day, I met — wow, I am so bad at remembering names, so please forgive me if I get it wrong — currentseams reader Caleb(?) sight fishing on Crescent Beach. He told me that the week before, he’d had a fantastic day surfcasting at a popular old school mark. He went back the next day, same tide, same conditions, and it was disaster bad. So goes it on Block. Fish here, fish there, then no fish anywhere. The new inshore paradigm seems to be no schools cruising through, but rather a rogue, random bass. (Insert heavy sigh here.) The sight fishing in the day was generally crappy; I had several days where I saw no bass at all, which is dreadful for early July.That’ll save me a walk, although I did do the stairs one afternoon for exercise. The weather was generally crappy, with dense fog, high humidity, and a blustery S-SSW wind in the 10-20 mph range, which all but eliminated the south and southwest sides of the Island for the fly rod. Even with my 2H surf cannon, I wasn’t into it, especially for ultra slow fishing. I did fish multiple parts of the Island, but I could only find one specific mark that consistently held the possibility of fish on a certain tide. Even then, that tide was historically the worse of the two, so it was a surprise to me that that was this year’s pattern. Some old favorite, reliable marks failed to produce fish, which was discouraging. I want my old BI back!One night, at the witching hour of midnight, I ventured out onto a top-secret flat within the Great Salt Pond. Wind was an issue, but I had a moving tide in my favor. I followed my dark-of-the-moon protocol of fan casting and moving a few steps to systematically cover water, but after a while I recognized the futility of it all and headed in. I will typically turn on the light to see what creatures are stirring, and I was treated to a swarm of baby squid, about 1/2 to an inch long, hundreds of them, buzzing around and through my headlamp light cone. Sadly, no diners had assembled. This is a still from a video I shot.One of my ten bass in six nights. The good news was two slot fish in the mix. The bad news was nothing smaller than 24″, so there were precious few stripers in the 3-5 year-old classes represented. That would fall into line with the miserable recruitment stats from 2020 and on. While the action was less than I’d like, I did get reacquainted with the truculent nature of Block Island stripers. Aside from snook and tarpon, I don’t know another fish that hits a fly harder than a Block Island striped bass. Powerful, crushing eats, and then, once they realize they’re hooked, a bullish, line-taking run. I had several fish work circles around me and/or run along the trough by the shoreline. Simply tremendous sport.
I get a lot of questions about Block Island this time of year. As always, I’m happy to answer them (unless you want to know my secret spots, which I won’t even tell my mother). For general information, here’s a piece I wrote several years ago. It still stands up today. It’s called “Block Island Stripers From The Shore.”
We had a fishing trip/photo shoot on Wednesday from 3:30-9pm. Delaware River guide extraordinaire Bob Lindquist came down to take pics for the book and an article he’s writing. We (filmmaker Matthew Vinick of “Summer on the Farmington” fame) started off at the bottom end of the PTMA and the action was slow. Little to no hatch activity, and precious few risers. Matthew and I had to work our butts off (he was nymphing then dry flying, I was swinging wets) to put a few in the hoop over 90 minutes. Both of my trout took a large Iso soft hackle.
Matthew had to skedaddle, so Bob and I moved up to a dry fly pool above the PTMA. As I was wading in, an old crusty angler (meant as a compliment) was leaving, commenting that the sulphur hatch was not good. He was right. It never really got started, even later in the evening as sunset transitioned into dark. Id like to blame it all on the hatch, but I don’t think I fished particularly well, mostly because I was being stubborn. Let me explain.
I saw that the sulphurs that were on the water were an 18-20. But I wanted to see if I could get them to take the 16. They generally wouldn’t, and when I put a 20 on I had double the action. I was also committed to fishing the water in front of me, which, due to varying currents seams and speeds, was difficult to maintain a quality drift. Sometimes I like a challenge, you know? But my fish worthy-drifts were few, and even when I did fool fish, I came away with nothing. I rose six trout and stuck none of them. Ugh! Finally, I moved down a few feet to more drift-friendly water, but by then it was too late. (Stubborn Steve pays the price.)
I should mention that I had some surprising success on wet flies in some very slow-moving water pre-7pm. Two trout, two crushing hits, both on LaFontaine’s Diving Caddis size 14. Later, the pattern that the trout seemed to like best was a size 20 sulphur comparadun. As it got darker, I switched over to a size 12 Usual. Unfortunately, the typical dusk feeding orgy never manifested, and both Bob and I commented about the lack of spinners on the water at dark. So it goes.
The Diving Caddis wet. I’ve been tying these without the rib, and using tan caddis Prism dub for the body. The trout are all in favor.
George and Michele took a wet fly lesson with me on Tuesday, and deserved much better than what they put into it. We started out in the lower end of the PTMA. The water was perfect for wet flies, but there was no hatch activity and virtually no visible feeding. We had a good, long streamside classroom session, but we had to scrap for the few touches we received. George and Michele both did an excellent job of getting their flies where they needed to be, but you can’t catch what doesn’t want to eat.
So we zipped down below the PTMA and were greeted by: more of the same. The fish were a little more active, but still no real hatch, nor feeding. Although both George and Michele put trout in the hoop, they didn’t get rewarded for the fine level they wet fly fished at. Our fishing window was 1pm-5pm, and to prove it wasn’t them, I swung wets for 90 minutes, 6pm-7:30pm, above the PTMA, and managed only two trout. Not good. At 7:30 I switched to dry, and proceeded to….wait. Nothing happened. 8pm. Still no rises. Finally, I moved downstream 200 feet, where I found a couple risers and landed them both. From 8:30-9:15pm, all hell broke loose, and it was a trout on every cast, even after I could no longer see the fly. Caddis 16-18, little Sulphurs 16-18, and midges filled the air and littered the surface of the water.
This is typical for this time of year when the hatch is delayed. If you want to catch fish, my best advice is to wait it out, then take advantage of the dusk feeding frenzy.
This was the scene on the walk out. The photo really doesn’t do it justice; there were thousands of bugs in the air and on the water, and the trout were eagerly gulping them down. Fly selection was irrelevant; I took them on 16 The Magic Fly, 12 and 16 The Usual, and 12 and 16 Catskills Light Cahill.
Summer is here early, and with a vengeance. The good news is that we have solid summer flows coming out of the dam at a favorable temperature:
However, note that the water temperature spikes five degrees by late afternoon, just from the release of the dam down to the measuring point at the bridge in Riverton. It doesn’t take a math whiz to reckon that once the river reaches Collinsville, the water is going to be significantly warmer.
This is where you and a good water temperature thermometer come in. If you don’t have one, you should get one. (I use this IR wine thermometer, $30 from Amazon). There is some debate about what the cutoff temperature for fishing is; 67-68 seems to be the number. My present policy is to call it at 67; that is, if it’s 67 or higher, I won’t fish for trout.
Also note that evening, night, and early morning are going to be your best times for find favorable temperatures; what’s more, those coincide with low light periods, which are generally good times to fish.
Finally, this time of year sees explosive feeding activity, starting around 7:30pm and building exponentially into dark. Don’t make the mistake of leaving the water at 8:15pm. You’ll be missing the best dry fly fishing of the day.
I fished the lower river Monday evening. The weather was vastly different than today’s; it was overcast and downright chilly for June. I swung wets for a couple hours, and the action was disappointing. Three trout on wets late afternoon this time of year ain’t exactly lighting it up. Part of that had to do with a sub-par hatch and very little visible feeding activity. Then, there was the cursing incident. Another angler thought I was bogarting his water; instead of talking to me about it, I was treated to a torrent of f-bombs and called various other unpleasant names that use slang to describe parts of the human body. Even though I thought he was being unreasonable (given the size and popularity of the pool) I apologized and backed away — and still, the venom and vitriol rain down upon me. Here’s the punch line: before I entered the water, I’d spent a few minutes asking where he was going to be fishing (he had been sitting on a log, taking a break), talking about flies, and I’d even gave him one of my favorite patterns. No good deed, etc.
To top it off, the fishing mostly stunk. I fooled a good number of fish on dries, and came away with no purchase on the hook set. I did eventually catch fish, but it wasn’t the lights out feeding orgy I had hoped for. Observed: midges, small caddis, a few sulphurs, a couple bigger Light Cahills.
But, every day is different, and Tuesday serves as the proof. I guided Brian from 1pm to 5pm, and he basically slayed them. We did our streamside classroom — this was a wet fly lesson — then we got into the water and began catching trout. The run we fished in the PTMA had a few risers, but nothing really consistent. Still, he got two in the hoop before we moved on to the lower river.
The pool we fished was a dream scenario for a wet fly lesson. You instruct the client; the client listens and executes, and the trout reward his efforts by jumping on with gusto. I don’t know how many trout we caught, but they smashed every fly on our team of three (sz 14 Squirrel and Ginger, sz 14 tan LF Diving Caddis, sz 12 BHSHPT multiple times. The rainbows offered tremendous sport; several of them performed cartwheels and aerials that would do any steelhead proud. Brian did a fantastic job of casting, mending, presenting, and covering water. Yet another Dangerous Wet Fly Machine has been created!
Hook. Play. Land. Repeat. Brian crushed them, and I was particularly impressed with how fast he landed his fish. Get ’em in, get ’em off — that’s the way to do it when you’re playing the catch-and-release game. Well done, Brian!
After our lesson, I was feeling ambivalent about fishing, but I had plans to meet “Summer on the Farmington” film director Matthew Vinick, so I headed up to the PTMA. I found him in a snotty boulder field, and while my plan was to start by swinging wets, there was no one(!) in one of the most popular dry fly pools on the river. So I jumped on that.
Within 15 minutes, there were five other anglers in the run. Funny thing! We all managed to share the water (and we were all significantly closer together than I was to the Monday Night Curser) without anyone getting upset.
Even though I was the first in the pool, I made the wrong choice of real estate. Has this ever happened to you? You pick your water and the trout are rising above you, and below you, but not in front of you. I did catch a few fish on The Usual sz 16 and the Magic Fly size 16, but when the gentleman below me left around 7:45 pm, I eagerly moved into his slot. And that was the right call, because there were far more active feeders in that area. The trout were taking sulphur emergers and the occasional straggling sulphur dun, and on this night it was just like the early June Farmington River dry fly playbook said it would be: match the hatch in size and color, make a good drift over a feeding lane, and the trout will eat the fly. I have no idea how many eats I had, but it was a lot.
At 8:15 I switched over to a sz 16 Light Cahill Catskills style dry, and it took about 10 minutes of fading light for the trout to want to eat that fly. By 8:40 I had upped to a size 12, same fly, and it was a fish on every cast until I could no longer see the fly and the frenzy began to wane. I went 10 casts without a take, then called it.
I couldn’t remember the last time I left the river so happy.
As I write this, I am ensconced in my new writer’s cave (non-cave actually, what with the long, tall windows that allow voluminous amounts of sunshine to spill into the room). I’m wrangling sprinklers on our newly hydroseeded lawn — sod to come tomorrow for other areas. This whole watering thing takes several hours a day. And then there are all the other new-house things on the to-do list…
The book is keeping me busy, too. I should be out fishing and taking notes on the river and hatches and then taking photos and so dammit, that’s what I’m doing tonight, and tomorrow, too, after my afternoon lesson. My current goal is 7,000 words per month, which I didn’t quite reach in May, and now one-third of the way into June I’m lagging for this month, too. Not that I’m complaining! It is a privilege to be writing this book, and I’m taking every step to make sure that I do it right.
So I’ve come to the realization that the new normal for Currentseams is probably going to continue in the catch-as-catch-can mode for the foreseeable future. I will of course try to keep you up to date on my fishing experiences and other must-have news, but don’t be alarmed if in any given week there’s only a couple — or one — posts. I appreciate your patience and your readership. And of course, please keep the questions coming.
No. Not here, not now.
Speaking of the Farmington River, right now is a great time to be out fishing. The summer hatches are beginning to ramp up and we have good flows. I’ll try to get a report up on Wednesday. Hope to see you on the river!
My deepest apologies for being so late with this report. On Monday I spent a lovely afternoon on the river with Farmington River guide extraordinaire Steve Hogan and Delaware River guide/photographer par excellence Bob Lindquist. Steve and I were fishing and Bob was shooting, both for an article he’s writing and for my book. We started off in the PTMA, me swinging wets and Steve with a dry/dropper combo. There were a few caddis about, but not a lot. We both took several trout.
We moved operations to the lower river where I focused on some snotty whitewater in a boulder field to swing wets. Steve went to Euronymph the dum- in to a pool and took trout after trout on his rig, mostly fat, stocked rainbows. I had less action, but did take a gorgeous wild brown with brilliant orange spots. Witnessed: caddis, Light Cahill, Isonychia, and sulphur, albeit in statistically insignificant numbers.
At this point, you may be wondering, “Steve, you were on a photoshoot. Where the heck are all the amazing photos?” Sadly, what Bob shot — and he got some wonderful pictures of fish and anglers and action and bent rods and splashing trout — is for his article and the book only. What’s more, I forgot to bring my camera along, so I have no secondary shots to share. All I can tell you is: it will be worth the wait.
Not from Monday. But there was a lot of this going on!
At this point Steve left and Bob and I ventured off to another boulder field. Even though the sun was still high and there was virtually no hatch activity, I had a banner 60 minutes bailing trout on wet flies. We called it just before 6pm, as Bob had a long drive home, but I have no doubt that if I had stayed, I would have done some significant damage as the evening hatch ramped up.
Later, I did some thinking about why I didn’t get as many fish on wet flies as I thought I should have. My best guess is that in the bright sunlight, the trout were congregating in the deepest water they could find. The last mark I fished was mostly in shade. The evening hatches were probably starting to ramp up. So there’s your most likely answer.
This is a great time to be fishing the river. I hope you get the chance to get out.
As I suspected, writing the book is has become a major time sink. Not that I’m necessarily complaining — I really enjoy writing about fly fishing — but I’d rather be doing it than writing about it.
So, the fishing has suffered a bit, and my mid-to-late spring grass shrimp outings are a perfect case study. Normally by this time of year I’ve been out multiple times. Last night was my first, and I may not get out for it again until next year. I picked a meh night for it. The swarm was probably a 3 out of 10, and there wasn’t much on it. I fished my usual three-fly team (last night’s lineup: Grass Shrimp Solution top dropper, Orange Ruthless clam worm middle dropper, Micro Gurgler on point). I fished a modified swing and dangle. I had to work over the course of 90 minutes to hook one shad and two bass, and those fish came in a bite window of 30 minutes. But I was happy to be there, the cigar was swell, and I felt like I spent part of an evening with a dear old friend.
Some nights, you get fish on all three flies. Other nights, they want one thing only, and last night it was the Micro Gurgler.
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