Posts tagged: fly fishing small streams

The First Small Stream Fly Fishing Trip Of The Brand-New Season

May 3, 2013, by Tom Chandler 19 comments

The snowpack up here is so bad, Older Bro and I took the direct route into our normally-unreachable-until-June alpine stream.

Hard to see, but I’m hooked up to the biggest brown trout of the day.

On the way in, the Official Beater Fishing Vehicle of the Trout Underground (a 200,000 mile 1990 Ford Bronco that has seen most of California’s dirt roads and looks like it) got stuck in a snow drift, but we managed to dig it out, back it out, and then dig our way through the drift.

Ultimately, we got within a mile of the stream before the drifts acquired that “You think you’ll make it, but you’ll end up walking back to cell phone coverage” look.

I’ve seen that look. I know that look.

We stopped there.

When we got out of the truck, one thing struck us.

It didn’t look like spring. The snowfall has been so dismal in California that even the alpine landscape looked dried and dusty, like it was already summer.

If you’re a fan of wildfires this would be a good thing, but if your tastes run to fly fishing small streams — which are dependent on snowpack for much of their summer flow — you might be less thrilled.

The Fishing Part

We were there to fish, so we suited up, hiked in, and arrived at a stream that was in absolutely perfect shape. We even spooked a couple trout at the first pool.

Unfortunately, we spooked them from the bottoms of the runs, which means (you guessed it) our dry flies remained largely untouched for the first 45 minutes.

Apparently, just because we blew into this stream in spring is no reason for the trout to eat dries like it was summer.

They’ve got a lot of nerve.

Eventually, we hooked a few on the [cough]nymphs[cough] hanging eight inches behind our dry flies, and about 2:30 it warmed enough to get a few bugs flying, which got the trout interested in our dry flies.

It wasn’t a wide-open bite (I ended the day with five, Older Bro one or two less), but I thought I was the first to fish this stream this year.

Until I saw the footprints on the sandbar.

We saw tire tracks on the road, but didn’t figure them for a fly fisherman. Still, the season opened on Saturday and we showed up on Sunday, so it’s possible someone got in ahead of us.

On the way out, we learned the sad truth.

Not only had we beaten to the punch (now I’m consoled by the idea I was the first to fish at least some of those runs), but we’d been beaten by someone who was eating brown trout — alongside the road we found a gutted, cleaned brown trout which had likely slipped off a stringer.

Dang. Beaten by a fish killer.

The Gear

First, I wanted to take pictures of this trip so badly that I made absolutely sure the camera battery was fully charged.

Which is why I left both the camera and battery sitting on top of the charger. Not my finest moment, and it’s why the Undergrounders are viewing this trip through the lens of Older Bro’s smartphone.

Sorry.

I continued my test of an Orvis Helios 2 8’4″ 2wt, while the backcountry stream-loving Older Bro fished his Orvis Superfine 8’6″ 3wt. The Helios 2 is an impressive (and expensive) fly rod (it weighs nothing), but in a blow for thrifty people everywhere, we both found ourselves preferring the less-expensive Superfine.

The Superfine Touch bends a little deeper and tapers a little slower than the Helios 2, which admittedly offers a light tip and good close-in performance. It’s just a little faster than it needs to be for a small stream. Certainly, it’s not too fast for something bigger, which is where I hear some are fishing it.

This is why I dislike writing rod reviews; I could tell you I prefer the Superfine series but can’t break it down into anything approaching a pie chart, which means we’re straying awfully close to “because I said so” ground.

In the end, I can only speak to what I like, and anyone with $775 is free to disagree.

See you on a small stream, Tom Chandler.

Small Stream Fly Fishing As Time Machine

August 13, 2012, by Tom Chandler 15 comments

On Friday, the L&T packed up the two munchskins and headed off to Healdsburg for the weekend, leaving the Trout Underground’s Editorial Staff wholly at loose ends.

Hiding from trout, but not the cellphone camera.

This is the first time I’ve found myself alone since I became the dad of a pair of typhoons disguised as innocent children, which means I immediately embarked on an orgy…

Of sleep.

(The parents out there are nodding.)

Still, when you’re sleeping odd hours and trying to catch a glimpse of actual sport amid NBC’s parade of Olympic tearjerkers, it’s too easy to become a shut-in.

So Saturday I went to the shooting range and fired everything I had (after only 18 months and $1100, the Browning Superposed 20-gage shotgun came back from Browning).

On Sunday, Older Bro made an appearance, eager to drop a float tube in a backcountry lake.

Which didn’t quite happen.

The Back Story

This weekend, sitting any length of time means selected body parts no longer move (picture an unpainted steel robot facing an accelerated rusting process), and a couple hours in a float tube seemed like a choice only Torquemada would approve of.

Instead, we visited a small stream and caught pretty little trout.

The biggest went an astonishing 10″-11″ and the average was in the 8″ range. Like so many other local small streams, two years of excellent snowpack have grown a lot of slightly-bigger-than-normal trout, and only a fool (or a real headhunter) ignores that.

Fishing with Older Bro feels like a custom-fit process; he only picked up the sport a couple years ago, but he’s been a backpacker and backcountry guy from the time he was a teenager.

Life is tough in tiny backcountry streams or high mountain lakes, a fact you don’t really understand until you’ve spent some time in either.

He’s spent a lot of time in both, and the result is someone who is viscerally aware of the struggle, so he doesn’t burden his fly fishing with much in the way of expectation.

Instead of an end result, he considers the fish a nice bonus.

It’s a good attitude to hold when your big fish of the day might not be any longer than your fly rod grip.

Sadly, even extremely manly outdoorsmen like ourselves aren’t immune to 99 degree temperatures, so after baking at the bottom of a gorge until we were approaching medium rare, we hiked up to the ridge and beat feet for someplace a little cooler.

Even despite the heat, fly fishing once again functioned like a time machine; with the hike in and the difficulty getting around the stream, it felt like we were just hitting our groove when Older Bro pointed out we’d been at it for a lot of hours.

You usually have to work for your small stream trout.

And in one of those moments that puts the sword to the “you can catch those small trout on anything,” aphorism, we caught noticeably more (and bigger) trout after noticing the Yellow Sallies (small yellow stoneflies) running around on our legs.

For the simple act of tying on a yellow fly and fooling a few more trout, I congratulated myself like I’d won a Pulitzer, proving once again that I probably shouldn’t be trusted with a fishing report (or a blog). In addition, neither one of us ended up with a working camera, so today’s pictures come courtesy my smartphone, which doesn’t peg the quality meter.

Sorry.

The Gear Stuff

Older Bro fished an 8.5′ 3wt Orvis Superfine Touch, an astonishingly good small-to-medium-stream fly rod. It’s not a slow taper, but it loads at reasonable small stream ranges.

Older Bro loves it.

Because a little contrast is a useful thing, I fished a Diamondglass 7′ 3wt fiberglass rod — one of the slower, softer fly rods I’ve ever used.

It’s tremendous fun on a small stream, but generates sensations remarkably like frustration whenever the wind comes up, which means all but the masochists should place it in the toy category. Short fly rods are big fun, but even on a small stream like this I like a little extra length; at the very least it’s a lot easier to manuever flies (and fish) around all the rocks.

See you standing up on the river, Tom Chandler.

Taking A One-Image Break

July 25, 2012, by Tom Chandler 8 comments

The work tasks are many but the work hours are few, so while I was rifling the photo file for another image, I found this:

From last year… (sigh).

Nothing startling; just last year’s photo of Older Bro fly fishing some small stuff, though it was worth a couple seconds to remember there is still a world out there.

One More For The Small Stream Fly Fisherman

July 12, 2012, by Tom Chandler 3 comments

Earlier this week I commandeered another long lunch and hit a local stream, where air temperatures hit the lower 90s, which to me always feels like the air’s vibrating a little.

The water was still in the mid-50s so the trout were fine, but it seems I turn into a massive fish-handling wussy when it gets hot, and the trout generally don’t get un-wetted unless absolutely necessary.

Which is why all I’ve got to show for the half-dozen trout I caught is a post-fish photo taken after the release of The Big Trout Of The Trip — a raging 8″ rainbow.

Imagine the fish in all this…

I’m not a fan of hot weather. In fact, exposing pasty old me to the full sun is a lot like accidentally leaving a spoon in the microwave; you’re pretty much guaranteed a lot of commotion and perhaps a little pain.

That’s why — when temperatures rise into the 90s — it’s probably not a bad time to recline in the downstairs office. I freeze my ass off down there all winter, so taking advantage of the meat locker effect in the summer seems like simple thermal karma.

And no, I won’t go into the usual histrionics about needing to fish or developing a tic or “aching” to get out on the water beyond saying this: After the past couple of hectic weeks, it was a nice break.

Consider it a reminder of sorts that life still exists outside the New Kid Bubble.

It was also a reminder that the 7.5′ 4wt Beasley-built Perfectionist remains an astonishingly pleasurable fly rod to cast and fish, and the fact a fly rod makes you happy is probably the best reason for picking a rod tube out of the rack on the way out the door.

I don’t know what the next weeks hold, but M2 is turning out to be an incredibly sweet kid (Little M is not exactly dealing with the introduction of a competitor all that well, but we’re seeing signs of acceptance [or resignation] creeping in).

In the meantime, I’m working mainly during naps and at night, which is not exactly a prescription for clear eyes or an epic sense of humour or even the ability to write coherently.

Which probably explains large portions of this post.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

Five More Signs You May Be A Small Stream Fly Fisherman

June 17, 2012, by Tom Chandler 9 comments

That’s today’s Brookie stream, and me standing beside it (courtesy Older Bro). More coming soon.

More Top Five Signs You May Be A Small Stream Fly Fisherman

5. Instinctively say “Whoa!” when you realize fish is longer than seven inches.

4. Decide today’s the day to “Break out the big gun,” so you grab the 3wt.

3. Realize it’s been six years since you’ve seen another fly fisherman.

2. Hesitate to report decapitated human body for fear police will then know the location of your secret small stream.

1. Doesn’t everyone wear camouflage face paint?

UPDATE: This is “More” because I already posted a small stream Top 10 here…

How To Become King Of The World During A Long Lunch

June 15, 2012, by Tom Chandler 4 comments

I’m tempted to stand on a large rock, hold my arms out to the sides and pronounce myself the King Of The Fly Fishing World (hey, it worked out great for that Titanic guy).

Stunning, and bigger to boot.

I took a 90 minute tour of a local small stream (in the world of the self-employed fly fisherman, that qualifies as a slightly long lunch), and once again, I’m the beneficiary of a pair of excellent water years.

This stream is small and is typically home to a lot of 6″-7″ trout. Today I caught one that went 10″ (the largest I’ve hooked in that water), and the average was in the 7″-8″ neighborhood.

And I caught many trout.

In other words, I mirrored my experience at last week’s expedition; after two good water years, the trout were 8%-10% bigger than normal (and hungry).

A smarter fly fisherman (and a better outdoor writer) would pocket the difference and chalk up the extra size to skill and cunning, but I’m told that — as a daddy — I need to exercise restraint.

Something about being a role model.

Damn.

Sunday I flog the Subaru towards Lassen for a rendezvous with Older Bro, where I hope to catch the season’s first Brook Trout (still The Official Char of the Trout Underground).

Expect another self-congratulatory post soon.

See you on the Brookie Highway, Tom Chandler.

Another Small Stream Report (Featuring Brown Trout, Perfect Weather and a Beer Chopper)

June 8, 2012, by Tom Chandler 10 comments

Returning to a favorite alpine stream after eight months away is a little like Christmas when you’re a kid; there’s a slim chance it’ll suck, but even though you don’t know exactly how the happiness will manifest, odds are you’re going to be happy.

That's me! (image by Older Bro)

And we were happy.

Older Bro and I parked my 200,000 mile Bronco (a truck guaranteed to draw the bare minimum of attention from thieves) and walked the extra mile to the creek.

And for the first five minutes, not much happened.

Then it did.

Two fish here. One there. Three from that run.

Now repeat for many hours (it slowed a little around 1:00, then came back to life about 2:30).

One of Older Bro's victims (image by Older Bro)

And despite the lack of practice, I felt sharp. The fly dropped where I wanted it and drifts weren’t the problem.

The problem was keeping the Beetle Bug floating after repeated maulings.

It was, frankly, the kind of problem that plagues me too rarely.

It wasn’t stupidly easy, but the trout were there, they were looking up and hungry, and yes — after two excellent water years, the average brown trout was just noticeably bigger than in prior years.

In the past, I’d suggest 8″ was an average for this stream. This time it was more like 9″, and I caught four in the 12″ range (no, when the fishing’s that good, I don’t measure).

Those are big trout in this stream.

Why are they this stunning? We are faded ghosts by comparison.

And if you haven’t already suffered enough, I’ll express my appreciation for the concepts of perfect weather and stunning lack of mosquitoes (the bugs can be brutal up there), both of which were in attendance.

Frankly, all we lacked was a beer chopper crewed by the Swedish Bikini Team. (Older Bro promised to work on that for the next trip.)

The Gear

I fished my 8.5′ 4wt Diamondglass, a rod only found lacking under the windiest of conditions, though I had the 8′ 5wt Beasley Leonard 50DF sitting in the truck.

Older Bro fished an 8.5′ 3wt Orvis Superfine Touch that is an impressive fishing tool, though it offers just a skoosch less feedback than the truly impressive 8′ 4wt Superfine Touch.

I’ve also come to the conclusion that a 7.5′ leader is just a hair long for these kinds of streams (lots of trees and brush on land and downed timber in the water); after 15 minutes I cut mine to 6’9″ and suddenly I was the Slightly Overplump God Of Fly Fishing Casting Accuracy.

I’m heading back soon, though the mosquitoes have no doubt noticed the nice weather. Let’s hope I avoid a repeat of my last mosquito nightmare, and that on this small stream, Christmas comes at least twice a year.

"Hey you kids, get offa my stream!"

More Proof Your Gracious Blogger Isn’t Really All That Bright

May 28, 2012, by Tom Chandler 6 comments

For a couple hours Saturday, my life was neatly contained by the following: boulders, cliffs, and giant fallen logs.

This was the result of a bad gamble, but then, you probably already guessed that.

Bastard wouldn't stay in focus (the nerve!)

Instead of a long drive to a known-fishable stream, I thought I’d try a couple local streams, figuring they must have fallen into shape by now.

Which highlights the following reality: my predictive powers need some work.

You go into this stream at the bottom of a tiny gorge and come out at the top. You could say it requires a certain commitment.

This stream is smothered in willows, boulders, bluffs, cliffs and fallen timber (often in devilishly Gordian combinations), and while you can usually escape the worst of it by simply going up the middle of the stream, it turns out you can’t if the stream is running high.

Every ill-advised trip has a moment — the go/no-go decision when the smart money says “this isn’t looking all that good.”

Apparently, I drove right by that moment, and at freeway speeds.

Maybe I need to buy a drift boat...

Instead of exhibiting common sense, I climbed up and down and over and under and through things until my legs retained the raw masculine strength of cooked spaghetti. Fortunately, I was able to console myself with the fact it simply means I’m criminally out of shape, 51 and fat.

The Old Guy Trifecta.

I did manage to scrape up four nice little rainbow trout, which — if I’d eaten them — would have returned approximately 1/10 the calories I burned on the trip.

Behold the mighty hunter. Feel my rippling thews.

See you trying (and failing) to pry the lid off the extra-strength Tylenol, Tom Chandler.

Look at what you find when your face is in the dirt...

Hope Dies Hard On A Fishing Trip…

May 14, 2012, by Tom Chandler 11 comments

No matter how much we stared at them, the snow drifts covering the road refused to melt.

I wasn’t really surprised; in this part of the world, the snow level is currently around 5500 feet. But you know, this road and this pass were going to be different. Then we rolled around the corner just past 5400′ and the dream of being the first into a small alpine stream died.

The moment hope died...

Every time this happens I go through the usual stages; denial, anger, bargaining, depression over the lack of realtime satellite intel and finally, acceptance.

Usually, I don’t reach acceptance quickly. For a minute, I knew — despite the old tires — the Bronco could blow through the drifts, but even my fevered brain couldn’t ignore another set of *deeper* drifts waiting up ahead, and many more after that.

I pointed at the medium-sized streams of water running down the road and said “two weeks” and Older Bro nodded, though we both know it’s still just an attempt at grownup behavior.

That’s still too early to expect to make it into this stream, even given the light snow year.

Fortunately, our backup stream fished beautifully, and:

We caught pretty brown trout on dry flies
We tested a new fly rod against an old favorite (and arrived at opposite conclusions)
I firmed up a wader review (coming soon)
The “new” water I first fished last trip fished nicely again

Unfortunately, because were a little reluctant to walk away from catchable fish, we got to our Highly Experimental Stretch Of A Creek That Should Fish Great But Hasn’t a little late. This is the water that we’ve now fished (admittedly briefly) three times, yet despite looking absolutely perfect, it has yet to give up a single fish.

Or even a take.

We’ve crafted a whole series of worthwhile excuses for it — and I’ll be back again sometime soon — but after a while, you start to wonder about the nature of reality.

If a damned trout would just eat a dry fly, the universe would snap right back into its proper place.

Until then, everything feels just a tiny bit out of true, and I suspect it will remain so until I go back and invest a couple hours in the place, figuring it out or writing it off.

More to come as I get things written for my clients, Tom Chandler.

The Small Streamfest (or, How To Make Better Investments)

May 11, 2012, by Tom Chandler 8 comments

Tomorrow, Older Bro and I head into the hills for what I’m calling the Second Leg Of Our Google Earth Small Streamfest 2012 World Tour, and yes, we’re selling t-shirts in the lobby.

Trips like this generate enough hope to power a small city, though all that wattage rubs against the very real possibility of abject failure and disappointment, so you wouldn’t normally make a big public deal about it (like posting it on a blog or anything).

Still, we’re planning to confirm a couple places we have been, try a couple we haven’t, and also to fish some of our “normal” spots. (Hey, we know there are fish there, so why not?)

Because you’re fishing and looking instead of just fishing, you don’t catch as many fish on these trips as you could, but I see it as an investment; fewer trout now mean more places — and more trout — in the future.

And unlike your 401k, it’s an investment that’s probably on solid ground.

Since I’m posting this late on a Friday afternoon on Pacific Standard Time (thereby ensuring it’ll be read by upwards of three people), I’ll stop here, except to note that looking for new fish and new water in your own neighborhood offers the best of all worlds.

You’re dealing with few exotic diseases and a minimal carbon footprint, yet unlike that spot halfway around the world, there’s a chance you’ll make it back next weekend.

See you on the map, Tom Chandler.