What a week in Vermont. Unstable weather patterns at it's best. Beginning of the week started with snow. Ended of week brought a heatwave. And in between a melting pot of wind, lightning strikes and bucketfuls of precipitation. My six day trip to the mountains had been planned for months but the cauldron was full and I was getting to my boiling point. I followed the bizarre weather for over a week leading up to the trip, the final days and even hours prior continually changing my plans. Finally, I said to myself "just go man". And boy I'm glad I did.
Although the six day trip was cut to three, I still feel fortunate. After weeks of coordinating, I finally managed to meet up with a friend and showed him some wonderful water. I also had the opportunity to meet a new friend who is as passionate about trout as I am. And then of course there is "THE" fish. More to follow on that one...
Friday found the lower river high and silted up. Still, Mark and I felt the need to give it some time and explore some new water. In spite of it all, we did manage a fish or two including a wild 16" brown trout that I nymphed up. But as the morning went on, the clarity decreased and so we packed it in, had a quick lunch then drove south an hour to fish another watershed that I knew offered better water levels. For three hours we fished, mostly rigged with tandem nymphs and managed 5 healthy rainbows in the 16-18" class including one fish that pushed the 19" mark. By 7pm we called it quits and headed our way back through the winding fields, streams and mountains as the sun set.
Saturday morning at 7am found us back on our wild river. Water levels had dropped some and the clarity was improving. We started further up river where we found the water clearer and cold. Although Mark had fished this river for over a dozen years it was new water to him. I sensed he thought he found heaven. We landed 9-10 wild rainbows in the 12-14" range on brown stones, hares ears and caddis pupae.
By 2:30 Mark was ready for a break. The temps were soaring into the high 80's. While I had been wet wading, Mark had been in full wader mode. The heat and gear had sucked the energy from Mark and he was ready for some down time. I pressed on searching more water.
Around 4:00pm I decided to work another stretch further up river. I'd heard talk that a few, large rainbows and browns had been taken in the upper reaches over the past few weeks on high water and knew this one stretch had a couple nice deep pools worth working. The pools were a hike to get into and meant wading a quarter mile or so up river against a pretty solid flow. Still the thought of a big fish intrigued me so I slowly took my time working every run and riffle that held 2 feet or more of water.
When I hit the big pool, it was around 5:30pm. The water was clear, cold and deep. The air was still, the sound only silence as the sun began to set at the mountains crest. Shadows began to form on the inner portion of the pool. I strengthened and lengthened my leader, added weight and began casting across river to the far bank where the flow was greatest. My pattern landed solidly, quickly sinking as I mended line and began the swing. As the line began to straighten, I slowly stripped it back an inch at a time. I repeated this process this again and again, each time taking one step down river working my way deeper and deeper into the pools belly. On my sixth or so cast I felt a slight hesitation on my short strip and subconsciously set the hook.
There was weight there. Then head jerks followed by movement of the line. Then the line ran clear across to the furthest point of the pool This was a fish of size. And he was clearly in control. I quickly understood my job was to simply hang on and manage my hook set as best I could. I attempted to keep
moderate, even tension on my line as he fought me. If I could manage this, I could slowly wear him down.
It was more than three minutes before I first actually saw the fish and over five minutes before I my first attempt to land him. On my third attempt, it worked though he barely could fit in my net.
Seeing that fish and and being hit by the reality of what had just happened was a moment I will never forget. Its a feeling I have had on possibly 5 or 6 occasions throughout my fishing years. The wild rainbow was a slab,over 20" from his kyped lower jaw to the tip of his tail. Black spots that ran from his back to belly and throughout his tail. The red on his gill plate and the 18" length and 4" depth of his red streak. And he was thick. I could not get over how large his eyes appeared to me. His under fins were white at the tips and he appeared quite healthy.
At first I felt so fortunate, then I felt honored and proud of the moment. I stood there, staring at him in my net attempting to take it all in. Then I looked around as if to take photo in my mind of this moment. The setting sun, the smell of fields, the quiet flowing water and only the sounds of crickets chirps as the dusk of evening approached. It was just me, the river and this beautiful fish.
In that moment the feeling overwhelmed me. The feeling of knowing that something greater was looking over me in that moment. Something that knew how important this was to my soul and my life for that matter. .
As I revived him, I said "thank you" and could not help but wonder what his life had been like, what happens in his world and the obstacle and challenges he must endure each day and night below the surface. And how he came to survive so long.
As he gathered strength, I gently released his tail knowing this was a beautiful creature I would never see again. I said goodbye and watched him slowly swim off along the gravel bar to the deeper depths of his home. And then I thought of my home and my family.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Rain Delay
Well, this season has not exactly started out as planned. First, I got laid up with back issues which forced me to cancel a 3 day outing and now a week long trip that was to begin this past Tuesday was cancelled due to a weeks worth of rain events followed by over satiated rivers. Fortunately, a two day trip with my oldest daughter along with some local pond fishing for stocked trout has helped appease my thirst but has done nothing to feed the monster.
And so for now it is day to day. My early morning routine starts with a 5am big mug of coffee only to be immediately followed by cfs river gauge checks and weather forecasts. There is one and only one good aspect to the rivers running so high right now and that it should help defend against a 4 day heat wave arriving today through Sunday. Hopefully the high water will allow the fish some recluse.
There is some good news in all this. I am watching one particular river very closely. It's history has shown it to rise and recede rather quickly. If it continues its normal path and drops throughout today I may have a shot tomorrow. I've also been asked by a friend to join him Monday on a northerly river that appears unaffected by this past weeks rains. I've also been invited to fly fish for stripers in northern MA.on Sunday. Time will tell. Hopefully the next report will be actual fish time and not fill and fluff. More to follow.
-ASM
And so for now it is day to day. My early morning routine starts with a 5am big mug of coffee only to be immediately followed by cfs river gauge checks and weather forecasts. There is one and only one good aspect to the rivers running so high right now and that it should help defend against a 4 day heat wave arriving today through Sunday. Hopefully the high water will allow the fish some recluse.
There is some good news in all this. I am watching one particular river very closely. It's history has shown it to rise and recede rather quickly. If it continues its normal path and drops throughout today I may have a shot tomorrow. I've also been asked by a friend to join him Monday on a northerly river that appears unaffected by this past weeks rains. I've also been invited to fly fish for stripers in northern MA.on Sunday. Time will tell. Hopefully the next report will be actual fish time and not fill and fluff. More to follow.
-ASM
Sunday, May 19, 2013
A Father, A Daughter And A River
Opening Day
So the season did not start out as expected. Ailments, home commitments and weather all being a factor. However as they say, things do have a way of working out and what once seemed horrible and without reason is now but a distant memory. Good found it's way.
A cancelled trip a week ago with my good friend Gray had now become a trip this week with my nineteen year old daughter. A college freshmen, we had been apart for most of the last nine months and we had missed time together. When she asked if we could fly fishing together I knew things had worked this way for a reason. Just the two of us alone in the woods for two day on two of my favorite rivers. What more could I ask for.
A nights ride up to our cabin in the woods followed by a good nights rest. Breakfast came early the following morning. Eggs, hashbrowns and whole wheat toast the order of the day. A forty five minute ride to the river followed where we suited up and on the water by 10am. A near perfect morning with partial clouds and air temperatures in the low 50's. Water flows were ideal at 300cfs and water quality and clarity were good making it easy to wade.
During the morning we concentrated on the deeper pools and slower, softer slicks where we found healthy browns and rainbows on princes, stones and olive caddis nymphs. Being a state trophy river the fish ranged from 16" to our biggest, a 20" rainbow. By early afternoon we had landed seven fish and lost three including a very large rainbow that jumped twice then headed down river spitting the fly. Around 1pm high cloud cover developed followed by the darker lower clouds. You could feel the weather changing by the minute as a low was pushing through, the air temperature dropping ten degrees in ten minutes as the wind picked up and the rumble of thunder could heard in the distance. When a cold rain began, the fishing shut down. We fished another half hour then cold and wet, we scrambled to break down our gear and headed home to warm for the haven of a warm fire.
Day 2
A chilly night lent itself to a good sleep. I awoke at 5am to bright skies and high pressure. By 7am the thermometer read 52*. A beautiful day in Vermont on another beautiful Vermont river. The flows had been ideal on yesterdays river to our south however this river was another creature, a larger more powerful freestone river where naturally producing wild trout prevailed.. With flows running at 1,100cfs, I knew our ability to safely wade and access crucial locations might be limited and was right. When we arrived we found the water higher than what we had hoped. It was moving and it was still cold. We had our work cut out for us. For two hours that morning we focused on fishing the upper reaches of the river nymphing tandem rigs with little success. As beautiful as the river and its holding places of trout appeared we just had a sense that we had arrived a week or two premature. Around 11:30 we came to a bend in the river where the main current runs straight and hard before smashing into a 75' ledge rock wall and pushing the water east that creates a beautiful and very large and deep pool. I switched over to my sinking line and a big olive and tan streamer pattern. Within minutes I felt the soft lethargic short strikes of a trout. Two casts again, then nothing. What may have been curious below the waters surface was no longer. An hour later we fished a similar pool and felt another short strike but again no fish.
It was now 1pm and I realized it had been almost 4 hours on this river without a fish. I watched my daughter. I wondered what was going through that head of hers and recalled my days at her age and the excitement of it all. I could see her patience was now waning and that the lack of action was taking its toll and draining her interest. But still she continued to fish never once complaining. Around 2pm, the wind began to pick up more steadily as if whispering to me that it was time to go. We called out to my daughter and we hiked out. This would not be the day of a wild trout. But I'd had a marvelous time. And as we made our way home, she asked me when we could fish again, I knew so did she.
So the season did not start out as expected. Ailments, home commitments and weather all being a factor. However as they say, things do have a way of working out and what once seemed horrible and without reason is now but a distant memory. Good found it's way.
A cancelled trip a week ago with my good friend Gray had now become a trip this week with my nineteen year old daughter. A college freshmen, we had been apart for most of the last nine months and we had missed time together. When she asked if we could fly fishing together I knew things had worked this way for a reason. Just the two of us alone in the woods for two day on two of my favorite rivers. What more could I ask for.
A nights ride up to our cabin in the woods followed by a good nights rest. Breakfast came early the following morning. Eggs, hashbrowns and whole wheat toast the order of the day. A forty five minute ride to the river followed where we suited up and on the water by 10am. A near perfect morning with partial clouds and air temperatures in the low 50's. Water flows were ideal at 300cfs and water quality and clarity were good making it easy to wade.
During the morning we concentrated on the deeper pools and slower, softer slicks where we found healthy browns and rainbows on princes, stones and olive caddis nymphs. Being a state trophy river the fish ranged from 16" to our biggest, a 20" rainbow. By early afternoon we had landed seven fish and lost three including a very large rainbow that jumped twice then headed down river spitting the fly. Around 1pm high cloud cover developed followed by the darker lower clouds. You could feel the weather changing by the minute as a low was pushing through, the air temperature dropping ten degrees in ten minutes as the wind picked up and the rumble of thunder could heard in the distance. When a cold rain began, the fishing shut down. We fished another half hour then cold and wet, we scrambled to break down our gear and headed home to warm for the haven of a warm fire.
Day 2
A chilly night lent itself to a good sleep. I awoke at 5am to bright skies and high pressure. By 7am the thermometer read 52*. A beautiful day in Vermont on another beautiful Vermont river. The flows had been ideal on yesterdays river to our south however this river was another creature, a larger more powerful freestone river where naturally producing wild trout prevailed.. With flows running at 1,100cfs, I knew our ability to safely wade and access crucial locations might be limited and was right. When we arrived we found the water higher than what we had hoped. It was moving and it was still cold. We had our work cut out for us. For two hours that morning we focused on fishing the upper reaches of the river nymphing tandem rigs with little success. As beautiful as the river and its holding places of trout appeared we just had a sense that we had arrived a week or two premature. Around 11:30 we came to a bend in the river where the main current runs straight and hard before smashing into a 75' ledge rock wall and pushing the water east that creates a beautiful and very large and deep pool. I switched over to my sinking line and a big olive and tan streamer pattern. Within minutes I felt the soft lethargic short strikes of a trout. Two casts again, then nothing. What may have been curious below the waters surface was no longer. An hour later we fished a similar pool and felt another short strike but again no fish.
It was now 1pm and I realized it had been almost 4 hours on this river without a fish. I watched my daughter. I wondered what was going through that head of hers and recalled my days at her age and the excitement of it all. I could see her patience was now waning and that the lack of action was taking its toll and draining her interest. But still she continued to fish never once complaining. Around 2pm, the wind began to pick up more steadily as if whispering to me that it was time to go. We called out to my daughter and we hiked out. This would not be the day of a wild trout. But I'd had a marvelous time. And as we made our way home, she asked me when we could fish again, I knew so did she.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
The Game Changer
May 3rd, 4th & 5th. For six months we'd waited for this weekend. I'd made plans with my fishing partner, Gray. We'd chosen the three rivers we would fish each day and followed the weather, water flows and temperatures meticulously. Our plan was perfect. We'd fish a trophy trout river the first day, a wild trout river the second and finish up the 3rd on a small, local wild brook trout stream. The conditions could not have been better. High pressure with 60* air temperature and ideal water temperatures and flows. The bite would be on. Our gear packed and stowed.
Then it happend. 20 hours before departure, I begin to feel burning and aching in my lower left back & rib cage. This to be followed by chills and a headache. Then comes an upset stomach. By 7pm I could not move without immense pain in my back. Any range of motion- bending, flexion gone. I was locked up and in trouble. My intial thought, food poisoning and a severe back spasm. By 11pm I knew it was more severe. It hurt to even breath. Sleeping was impossible. At 1am I phoned Gray and left him a voicemail along with a text. The trip was off. Nothing short of learning of a loved one's death could I be this upset. The pit in my stomach felt deep, black and overwhelming.
At 9amFriday morning I was not on my trophy river. I was not again feeling the flow of liquid aqua against my legs, hearing thecalls of nature, experiencing that spiritual moment with an unwielding appreciation for all that the real world has to offer. And I was not feeling the bend of the rod and the power of the pull as an 18" brown trout took me downstream like a freight train.
Instead, I was in the doctors office. The sounds of nature replaced by the sounds of people coughing, chattering on their cell phones and complaining to the receptionist. This could not be happening. But it was and in this time and space was real. Finally, after a twenty minute examination by the doctor, my diagnosis; Shingles. A virus that remains dormant from having chickenpox. It can re-activate at any time however most often when one's immune system is weak. It choose a vulnerable part of the body and attacks the nerve endings. The cure; antibiotics, pain medication and rest. Recovery time; two to four weeks depending on one's own body to recover.
It is now Saturday Day 2 of the trip. I sit in my office, medicated and typing. As I look out the window on this beautiful spring day I think how Gray and I would have been waist deep now nymphing for wild rainbows. Or maybe we'd have been swinging large streamers on sinking lines in the big pools of this, my favorite river, or even possibly tying on a #16 Hendrickson or #12 Quill Gordon as the hatches begin to show. But there will be no fishing for me today or sadly, for the next several weeks. The wait must continue. And though the pain of this god forsaken virus will eventually leave, the pain of what should have and could have been will never go away.
If there is a life lesson to be learned from all this I say "Live your life as you choose, not what others would choose for you, for tomorrow may never come".
-ASM
Then it happend. 20 hours before departure, I begin to feel burning and aching in my lower left back & rib cage. This to be followed by chills and a headache. Then comes an upset stomach. By 7pm I could not move without immense pain in my back. Any range of motion- bending, flexion gone. I was locked up and in trouble. My intial thought, food poisoning and a severe back spasm. By 11pm I knew it was more severe. It hurt to even breath. Sleeping was impossible. At 1am I phoned Gray and left him a voicemail along with a text. The trip was off. Nothing short of learning of a loved one's death could I be this upset. The pit in my stomach felt deep, black and overwhelming.
At 9amFriday morning I was not on my trophy river. I was not again feeling the flow of liquid aqua against my legs, hearing thecalls of nature, experiencing that spiritual moment with an unwielding appreciation for all that the real world has to offer. And I was not feeling the bend of the rod and the power of the pull as an 18" brown trout took me downstream like a freight train.
Instead, I was in the doctors office. The sounds of nature replaced by the sounds of people coughing, chattering on their cell phones and complaining to the receptionist. This could not be happening. But it was and in this time and space was real. Finally, after a twenty minute examination by the doctor, my diagnosis; Shingles. A virus that remains dormant from having chickenpox. It can re-activate at any time however most often when one's immune system is weak. It choose a vulnerable part of the body and attacks the nerve endings. The cure; antibiotics, pain medication and rest. Recovery time; two to four weeks depending on one's own body to recover.
It is now Saturday Day 2 of the trip. I sit in my office, medicated and typing. As I look out the window on this beautiful spring day I think how Gray and I would have been waist deep now nymphing for wild rainbows. Or maybe we'd have been swinging large streamers on sinking lines in the big pools of this, my favorite river, or even possibly tying on a #16 Hendrickson or #12 Quill Gordon as the hatches begin to show. But there will be no fishing for me today or sadly, for the next several weeks. The wait must continue. And though the pain of this god forsaken virus will eventually leave, the pain of what should have and could have been will never go away.
If there is a life lesson to be learned from all this I say "Live your life as you choose, not what others would choose for you, for tomorrow may never come".
-ASM
Monday, April 15, 2013
Opening Day
I live in a state that does not have a closed trout season. Why this is exactly, I do not know. Suspicion tells me it is due to the loss of wild, native brook trout. Acid rain, human pollution and development all being the culprits. Thus, there is simply no closed season because there are no native wild trout left to protect.
So I have my own Opening Day. Although it may vary slightly from year to year, it is always mid May and always begins in Vermont. Typically the waters are still a bit cold, water levels are a tad high and cloudy from spring runoff and the air is cool. But it is always without doubt, my Opening Day. The experience I have this day is never like another throughout the season as I find those longed-for peaceful moments where only the sounds of nature bursting from its winter hibernation are heard. I feel the soft warmth of spring sun on my face and I smell the fresh dampened earth beneath me. And behind all this, the mesmerizing rush of moving water. After months of being trapped in my home, it brings the comforting thought in knowing there is a fresh new season ahead. One full of hope and promise.
I look forward to my Opening Day. I hope yours is equally as exciting.
-ASM
So I have my own Opening Day. Although it may vary slightly from year to year, it is always mid May and always begins in Vermont. Typically the waters are still a bit cold, water levels are a tad high and cloudy from spring runoff and the air is cool. But it is always without doubt, my Opening Day. The experience I have this day is never like another throughout the season as I find those longed-for peaceful moments where only the sounds of nature bursting from its winter hibernation are heard. I feel the soft warmth of spring sun on my face and I smell the fresh dampened earth beneath me. And behind all this, the mesmerizing rush of moving water. After months of being trapped in my home, it brings the comforting thought in knowing there is a fresh new season ahead. One full of hope and promise.
I look forward to my Opening Day. I hope yours is equally as exciting.
-ASM
Friday, March 29, 2013
The Waiting Game
The months of February and March can be daunting. A glint of sun here, a hint of spring there. And all in between just plain old cold, cloudy, snowy weather. I call this time of year "The Waiting Game".
For fly fishermen it's a time best spent tying flies. As a tier I believer in simplicity. I believe trout are opportunistic by nature and that given the chance will invariably eat a well presented fly. I tie six to eight patterns each spring in an assortment of hook sizes and colors. Based on water conditions, I fish them with weight or without weight. Sometimes I fish them as a single fly, other times in tandem or even in a brace. They are simple patterns to tie that simply work.
-ASM
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Paint & Pen in Fly Fishing
Brett Smith is without a doubt my favorite painter and artist of outdoor hunting and fishing. The realism and care to detail he brings to his paintings is unequaled in my opinion. A gift from God. I can only imagine what his flies would have looked like if he had been a fly tier.. Preview his art here, I am sure you will agree; http://www.brettsmith.com
Bill Tapply is my favorite all time outdoor writer (both fly fishing stories & mystery novels). Some of you may recall his Dad "Tap" Tapply of "Taps Tips" from the old Outdoor Life Magazines. Although there are others that I enjoy reading and admire, Bill was able to bring a simple, directness and eloquence to his fly fishing stories that made the pages simply melt away chapter by chapter. Bill was a a true New Englander, and I've always connected with his settings and descriptive moments on a local river or pond.
Several years ago I met Bill on two occasions. We spoke of hatches, trout and the great scenery around us. He was an avid fisherman, a true gentleman and everything I would have expected from his reading.
You can find more on Bill at http://williamgtapply.com
-ASM
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