A Cow Pie Runs Through It: Fly Fishing With Sully

Editor’s Note: Sully — the Underground’s Montana Correspondent — sent along this little gem about fishing a ranch pond.

Enjoy it, and know I haven’t abandoned Bill Phillipson. With snow still on the ground from yesterday’s storm and the temperatures hovering below freezing, I’m writing all day long.

Ranch ponds are the about only over-looked trout resource left here in the Big Sky state.

That’s true because any angler with the ability to distinguish water from sagebrush and the dexterity to tie their own knots can effectively fish the things.

As a result, ponds aren’t on the receiving end of much attention from the magazine/guide cabal, so there’s little danger of an elbow-to-elbow fishing experience.

The big trick, of course, is gaining access. (Good luck with that, and please, no pleading e-mails).

Last Saturday, a friend and I found ourselves on an artificial piece of water on the windy side of the mountains.

The excavated pond’s aesthetics range from the non-descript to the downright ugly. The water is cold.

The owner informs us that the ice hasn’t been off long- we’re the first people to fish it this year. This, of course, is by design.

We fully expect gloating-quality fish, so we come equipped with tape measures and Tony’s little digital camera.

We both rig up 6-weights with clear intermediate lines, the better to beat the omnipresent wind and countdown to the fish if the occasion requires.

I tippet a Big Fly leader with 2X. That’s right, 2X. See, I’ve been to this pond before.

I tie on a size-6, 3-X long bright orange streamer of the J. Fair type; unweighted, long marabou tail with matching length wing.

The first fish isn’t difficult to locate. While Tony is still wadering-up, I stand on our host’s lawn and make four casts. The first cast provokes a large form to move. Casts two and three are off the mark (see “wind” above).

Cast number four is on target, and the big fish gobbles the fly just as it reaches the edge of the water. It proves to be a 22-inch brown: a heavy golden fish. (Editor: if you’re counting, you’ll notice that’s 5.5 inches of brown trout per cast.)

Slightly miffed that Tony hadn’t wandered over with the camera, I continue to walk the bank looking for targets.

Sizable fish bask in shallow water, apparently trying to absorb some heat. The orange fly moves fish, but most stop just short of the fly.

Since it’s a bright, blustery day I decide to tone down the look and try a black streamer with hints of metallic red and blue in the body. The Kamloops rainbows (averaging about 21-inches and pundit plentiful) love the streamer.

Meanwhile Tony has working similar magic with visible fish. He fishes one of Denny Rickard’s black and purple seal buggers, slightly smaller than what I’m using, but similar in appearance.

Somehow during the proceedings he finds a 26-inch brown trout attached to his fly. A terrific fish by anyone’s reckoning.

Because we’re fishing along and came armed with measuring tapes, no adrenalin inches or guide enhancement factor are being applied. Too bad that Tony had failed to check the batteries in his little camera, eh?

After a bit I catch a 24-inch brown. Normally a source of jubilation, and possibly the largest trout I’ll land all year, this husky two-foot long spotted monster slips into the wan also ran category as a result of Tony’s more significant catch.

Believe it or not, I’ve volunteered to undergo similar psychic strain at the pond again this fall. They should be big by then.

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