The Underground Fly Fishes, The Wonderdog Gets Cranky, And Orvis Gets Grippy

While Ian Rutter and David Knapp score heavy on dry flies in the Smokies, the Upper Sacramento – as is normal for this time of year – is running a bit high, a bit cold, and yes – a bit slow.

It’s realities like this that make me want to airmail a rattlesnake to those smug, self-satisfied bastards induce me to follow the exploits of those fine fly fishermen, and eventually the voices disappear, and I enjoy a walk on the river anyway.

Sure, it's ugly and I used it because I'm lazy, but it worked.

This time, I hiked far enough to both tire the Wonderdog and find two fish willing to eat a streamer which I selected after an involved, thoughtful, and highly technical process (it was at the top of the streamer box and I was too lazy to dig out the black woolly bugger).

Despite my Mad Fishing Report Skillz, even I can’t exactly play this one out as thrilling, edge-of-your-seat stuff.

I saw two bugs (an olive and what may have been a March Brown), no rising fish, and – despite rumors of Skwallas on shop doors – never even tied on a dry.

Instead – taking advantage of a technique I stole from some other fly fisherman developed entirely on my own – I did hook two fish.

Astonishing.

Essentially, in high water situations, the trout often hang in the soft water near the edge of the river.

Using a streamer, you can cover a lot of ground from the edge of the river by casting into the faster water, giving the line slack (so the streamer sinks), and then controlling the swing of the streamer into the bank.

From one spot, you can cover a lot of bank, and it offers a pretty controlled swing into cut banks, rocks, buckets – places trout love to hide.

One smallish trout ate my streamer, I never got a proper hook set, and I got him as far as my feet before he slipped the hook. Given the water temps, I was actually pretty happy about that (at least my hands were).

The second trout was bigger and just as skilled at throwing the hook; I basically farmed him after two jumps.

I’d guess him at 14″ (an excellent length for a trout I didn’t land).

Wally the Wonderdog apparently agreed he was a fine fish – at least based on the pissed-off look he gave me only seconds after the trout threw the hook:

Man's Best Friend? Not when you farm *his* trout...

This is because the Wonderdog – seeing me hooked up while on the high bank above – used his tiny brain to draw a straight line from him to me and crashed right through a willow thicket I’d have said was impenetrable.

All to get a nose into the action.

That I denied him that opportunity apparently was not lost on the fish-obsessed, tank-like canine.

It appears that some fishing buddies are more forgiving than others.

A Question of Balance

Today I test-drove a new pair of studded rubber soles – the latest from Orvis.

I think they have something here.

Orvis' new studded rubber sole grips nicely - but don't wear it on wooden floors...

Their four-pronged metal stud design is aggressive, and grips extremely well.

That’s good; I forgot my wading staff and the river was high, and the two add up to all sorts of difficulties if you’re walking on what amounts to a rocky ice rink.

Like Simms, Orvis is using the Vibram “sticky” rubber sole, which doesn’t seem nearly as sticky as the Patagonia rubber, so studs are needed for tough wading jobs.

I wandered around a *lot* on what I’ll call “snotty cobble” (fly fishermen know what I’m talking about, though a non-fisherman would have some questions).

The new Orvis design features what appear to be cutting edges, and while I got a better grip than a miser has on a dollar, I wouldn’t suggest wearing these on your wooden floors or in your drift boat (at least one sans mats).

In the interest of keeping the Undergrounders upright (and out of the doghouse), I’m working up a post on different metal stud designs for the next day or two – the logical extension of last year’s wading boot test.

More to come on rubber use, studs, and other oddly related (and easily misunderstood) topics soon.

See you wearing boots, Tom Chandler.