Scud Buggin'

Left: size 20 SH scud in olive.

The upper East Branch of the Delaware has a great deal of vegetation. Pictures from late spring and summer resemble the weed beds of chalk streams.

I tied these tiny olive scuds with thick thread bodies and translucent synthetic hare's ear dubbing. In the water, these look pretty buggy.

Okay, so in a water glass they look pretty buggy.

I've got more conventional scud and Syl's midges on emerger hooks in 17 and 15. Just in case, I wanted something really tiny and alive for those morning when the trout are laying around not yet having had their first cup of coffee. I wanted something that might remind them that they were always hungry. Sometimes they forget.

Trout in the Driftless love scud. I'm hoping Delaware trout do as well.

I'll use a tiny ball of sticky tungsten putty on my leader-tippet knot if I need to drift this lower in the water column. I plan on fishing it upstream as I would a dry fly quartering the stream and drifting beside weed beds and submerged rock.

I'll start putting camping gear together for the month's end opener here tonight. We'll see what the weather brings. I could use some tent time and a nice morning fry-up.

I can smell the cottage fries simmering in bacon grease already.

Prost.

Trout Dreams

You know the ones. 

It's morning and the camp coffee is in your hand.  You poured it from the percolator that is now beside the hat-full of fire someone started from last night's coals.

There's a light drizzle on and it is cool but in the dream, you're dry and toasty from the bed quilt at home. Camp seems the half-dawn stage between the early crew and the late-abed: the midlands of dreamtime.

You might stroll down the river lane from camp where one or two of your buddies are already on the water. Sometimes you hear them calling to one another as barking dogs in the distance. 

The river's surface is dimpled with the tiniest drops from the misty bits and fish are rising. Lots of fish are rising.

Your buddy calls up in a voice filled with smile that they're taking whatever it was you were tying last night. Your flies. They're taking just your flies.

That's a great dream. Sometimes I get to the river with a rod in one paw and a biscuit in the other. Sometimes, just the coffee. Still, great dream.

Size 17 Bear Paw Adams in the vise. The head on this one is off-sized because I broke the thread on the final wraps and had to remediate. I think the large head helps anyway.

He's bushy, floats like a cork, and trimmed below the hook gap sits nicely in the film from the beginning making a moire pattern which is a trick in drawing up the fish.

I love a good coachman -- the herl, you know -- but the Bear Paw Adams (tied with all the grace of a bear paw) is a buggy fly that worked fine for me three years ago and so is again gracing my box.

A guide friend looks at 'em and says "Kinda fat ..." in a restrained sort of appraisal. The over-sized hackle (hackle gauge? Pftttth,), tubby dubbing job, general displacement of a medium-sized frigate, and aerodynamic properties of a penguin are all elements of charm.  

His flies only ever look like the ones in pictures and he whips the bastards out even in size 17-18 with astonishing speed.  

The perspective of professional fishermen comes close to the fashion magazine effect: no woman looking at a fashion magazine ever feels good about herself next to those beauties. 

I say it's all the better those women in magazines aren't real. Like the ancient Greeks, we'd be pushing off too many warships from the shore in the morning to have time for important things. 

Like lazy trout dreams.

Prost.  

Where's the Bear?

At left a fly box loaded for bear.

I'm tying for an expedition so of course I have nearly full boxes. The right flies? Soft-hackles of course so: yes.

I'm at the desk tonight tying small dries. A friend wrote about travel for trout. "Destination trout" he called them. They might become my favorite.

I've never been one for the casual afternoon of fishing.

I have a river full of smallmouth only a couple hundred yards down the hill yet I'm not often there in the park fishing. I like the flavor of distance, the anticipation, the special sense of the unknown when I travel for trout.

I like the camping, the morning campfire, and coffee too hot to guzzle as the biscuits start their slow bake.

These events echo the magic in my trout fishing. They're intangible comforts that are intensely personal. I will share a hot biscuit if you stop by my camp, however.

I seldom find the fish rising behind the sweeper in the foam seam. I fish to habitat and take my share of unseen fish. I'm seldom sure the fish is there. The anticipation and uncertainty brings me onto the game.

I'm excited about a New York outing and before that my own state's opener.

I'll be a little more cautious about the conditions I'm willing to chance this year.

Last year's opener:

I'm hoping that we experience a little less immodest weather.

Prost.

UPDATE: There I was tying along when I think I broke the jaws on my Peak vise last night. I'm so disappointed.

I'm having a little trouble finding an exploded diagram of the thing to diagnose. I'll take it to the Grotto tonight and see if it is actually broken or if something came undone inside. Somebody there will know.

I feel like I broke a favorite Christmas present!

Midge Me.

Photo of midges from US Fish and Wildlife,Tom Koerner.

Saw my first midge swarm here last night as I was doing brush control clean-up from work I deferred in the fall. Better now. A couple small fires to burn of the brush yet to go. I like to burn when it is wet just on principle and it should rain slowly all day Sunday.

I'm prepping for a spring trip to the Catskills and am tying generic dark Adams, light Adams, and Borcher Specials.

I'm only crowding the eye with the hackle on about one out of six flies.

Tomorrow night starts the epic "size #18" sessions. I figure a week of those and I'll be good to go. I'm good on classic soft hackle flies to use on the classic dry fly streams. I'm that sort of guy.

I have materials for Quill Gordons. I should work some up but it really isn't my sort of fly. Now, the Hornberg is much more to my liking.

I'm going to tie some Hornberg's this month and post them for inspection.

Lastly, as the water finally drains from the ice rink in our little park here in Dexter, a bunch of locals are going to have a "run what you brung" 4wt casting session on one of these Saturday's before season. There is a pretty nice stable of rods in this crew -- cane, mostly -- and some of it was hard to come by.

Not many Garrison's and Gillum's hanging on just every wall.

My local fly shop will bring over the latest crop of the usual from Winston, Hardy, Douglas, Echo, and others. We'll all drool over the lovely finish and shine then pick up our own epic rods and put tufts of wool onto dinner plates. Maybe a couple on the backcast in the oak that has grown a bit these last few years.

I was impressed with a Hardy 3 wt last week that I think would reliably go 60' in a pinch. Feels like a 3 wt. Casts like a 5 wt. The tip might be too stiff for 12" on #7 tippet. Not sure. Would have to put a fish on it to see which I think is the true case in any decent rod.

A broom handle can be made to make a nice presentation with the proper touch. It doesn't help when the fish is thinking of that last splashy turn.

I need what we all need: less gear, more days on the water. 

Prost.

Well Aware of the Delaware

At left from the Metropolitan Museum of Art: the Emanuel Leutze image of Washington crossing the Delaware River ... which we all know is a complete fabrication.

Oh, George crossed the river on the way to a devastating victory over the Hessians.

George was in a deep funk over the coming battle and certainly wasn't standing the breeze. Some of his troops died of exposure -- and probably pneumonia -- on the ensuing march from the far bank into town.  The winter was brutal. Accounts of the time reveal the whole affair to have been a miserable, horrid endeavor which resulted in an early victory the American revolution desperately needed.

My spring trip is to the Delaware -- east and west branches -- the Beaverkill, and the Neversink.  I just signed up for the trip this week. I said "yes" formally only yesterday.

I'm hoping for better weather than ol' George endured.

My arsenal will be better than his as I'll take a battery of rods for two-handed trout streamers, light-line spring creek brookies, and the usual suspects for four and five weight spring hatches. I'm going for the famed Hendrickson blizzard but will be equally prepared for the disappointment of BWOs (Ha!) or the more traditional spring experience: PTN and Hare's Ear flymphs vacuuming the river bottom as I re-develop my short-line nymphing feel.

It's been a long winter and the ice is off the meadow here. We're due another good snow or two before true spring -- and maybe one in the spring -- but the worst is past.

I've been hiding from my vise only tying socially in Monday night sessions at the Beer Grotto in Dexter. There's nothing remarkable to say of those sessions as I'm just replenishing my soft-hackle inventory.

I've been heads down at the day job cleaning up a couple major projects and discovering that I'm in the wrong band. I'm watching the unchanging momentum of the same ineffectual effort driving disappointing results. Alas, the needed change can only be wrought by broken bones and hurt feelings and that is not the manner in which our little tribe operates.

So, trout.

The trout, the trout, the trout.

I'm interested in the dry-fly pilgrimage to the Catskills more for a hike into the Neversink Unique Area than for the photo-op at the Junction Pool or Mr. Hendrickson's Pool. I will however fish the upper east and west Delaware, the Beaverkill, and trek into the gorge of the Unique Area for a little Neversink brook trout fun.

I haven't been on the water since October.

I'm working up some brook trout plans on the Black River here for the April opener in Michigan.

I'm researching a self-guided trip to  the U.P. featuring the Ontanogon River in the Porcupine Mountains for September after the "deerflies of summer have gone" -- to borrow from Mr. Henley.

It's been a long winter requiring me to get smarter (that hurts a little these days). I've spent a lot of time at the gym trying to run faster and farther because some of my desired fishing excursions are going to require a greater degree of fitness than I've enjoyed these past few years.

RMNP gassed me last year.

There are too many wonderful places that require more than a couple hours' hike to reach. Those are places I want to fish. I'm working on it. There is a series of 5K runs starting here in April through Thanksgiving. They'll put in in good stead for more serious conditioning in 2020.

Alaska, Scotland, B.C., and the golden trout of high altitude pocket lakes are on my list. I'm determined to not be the backcountry coronary guy.  Better endurance for me means more fun.

Hope the fish in your pool start looking up soon.

Prost.

2019 - The Year of Streamers

At left, a palmered-style bead-headed rusty streamer in #10 1 xl. I've had good fortune with these palmer-hackle flies because they are most forgiving to tie: in the water the hackle covers all manner of sins.

The bead-head I feel now is a mistake. Weight interferes with the lifelike action. A weighted leader and an unweighted fly on a loop makes a better presentation. Head-weighted flies are "lumps" at current speeds I fish never twitching or oscillating. They plunge.

I loved fishing my soft hackles. In 2018, my most effective technique in Michigan involved the long drift downstream. I used this technique of a slack drift past cutbanks, in front of downed timber, and in the inner edge (towards the middle of the stream) current flows that come from major obstructions.

My drifts didn't drag exactly but they produced enough irregularity that they simulated life in a struggling invertebrate and drew fish out of concealed lies.

Unfortunately, I fished to too few actual fish in 2018. I have only one note on stalking and taking a feeding trout. I fished to habitat. 

SO, 2019: The Streamer.

I like feeling the take. 

I like fishing micro-streamers imitating various baitfish in #5 down to #16 fry. They cast well using single-handed spey techniques.

I like tying the streamers.

I need to learn a little more. I'll look through my copy of McClane's and dig about online for some Carrie Stevens' patterns. I have Sharon Wright's tremendous Tying Heritage Featherwing Streamers but lack much in the way of hairwings in my personal library. I expect I'll be investing in the writing of Joseph Bates.

I'm looking for solid mid-size fish this year: just the chunky 12" kind. I'm told from my reading that many fish in this league transition from invertebrate diets to more piscivorous pursuits.  I haven't found such references in the academic studies yet. I'll keep looking. I have reason to doubt.

Nevertheless, in the winter sessions I'll be going through bucktail and spun this and that. I'll make generous use of the over-hackle dressing for heads because I am convinced that the hydrodynamics of a prey animal is considered by a predator. 

I'll have fun and in the spring, I'll flip micro-streamers along the banks and under sweepers seeking the hungry ice-out fish.

I'm really looking forward to tying fuzzy-bodied soft-hackle streamers. I'm getting my body taper technique down pretty well. 

I hope the trout appreciate that effort.

Happy 2019.

Prost.

Trout Fishing Holiday Gift Guide

 At left, the Christmas Tree from 2016 in New York's Seaport District. Photo from Advicrespon and share here from wikicommons for the price of attribution. Nice tree. Thanks!


The Holiday Trout Fishing Gift Guide.

There's always someone asking about gifts. I've gotten two email inquiries already this year.

(10) A three pack of rubberized electrical tape in varied colors.   Fishing takes place near water. Duct tape is great stuff but the waterproof tape is much much better for the myriad of repair issues encountered in the field. This is a truly thoughtful and practical gift.  Thus, it sucks.

(9) Whiskey.   This crowd is full of day drinkers. They'll have lost their flask so anything in a pint bottle (fits in a fly-fishing vest pocket) will work just fine.

You can get three of  little airline bottles if it is just someone you have to buy a gift for because they gave you one last year and you had nowt for them.

It should be at least a quart bottle if you've borrowed gear from the individual in the last year.

It should be a full sized bottle if there is a paycheck involved in the gift transaction. Just sayin'. Don't cheap-out on the boss.

(8) A Flask.    See number nine. If it is for your brother-in-law and you need to borrow his chainsaw, fill it before you wrap it. If his chainsaw didn't start when you borrowed it last year: empty.

(7) A Cooler.  NOT a Yeti cooler. I'm talking Gott or Igloo or a Coleman. Should be the size to hold a twelve pack because ... well, number eight and nine. We know this crowd.

The twelve pack cooler allows for a generous lunch to be placed on top of the proverbial six-pack and ice.

The little six pack coolers are great but for forcing decision of preserving the convenience store egg salad sandwich in July (and a pack of chips) or the six pack procured at the same establishment. We've covered how that decision making process will go and while the beer will be cool, your fisherman will be hot before the weekend is out -- as in raging fever from a sandwich gone "off."

Why not the Yeti? Because nothing says "break my window, steal my cooler, and head directly towards the great pawn shop in the cloud that is E-Bay" like a Yeti cooler in Bumfuck-MethAddictville, Michigan. You know: where the fish live.

(6) A Gift Certificate to the best Italian restaurant in town. Yes, can be a little pricey (thus number six).

If this is a close fishing buddy, you know he needs the points. Anybody serious enough about fishing with you is someone who has a pretty long line of domestic disappointments loaded on their sleigh. Help a buddy out.

(5) A new fly box and a selection of your  own hand-tied flies ... nominally headed for the reject jar. They should be recognizable as ... something. PTN? Hare's Ear? These are great because screw-ups are usually buggy enough to be more effective than the "good" ones we keep ourselves. You had to start early on these though and if you're a trout fisherman, you didn't.

Also, no flies with problems at the eye-hole unless you want to be considered a different type of "hole" when your buddy is on the water.

Or it's  for the brother-in-law.

(4) Wool Socks. Yes, socks. Good ones. Better than you'd buy yourself..

The big over-the-calf wading socks are great. Heavy boot socks will pass muster. After three hours in steelhead temperature water -- or that near-ice stuff running off the mountain on your excursion trip next year -- you will be praised in the minds of the recipient for having style and class in your gift giving choice. Seriously. Nobody has enough fluffy warm wool socks in this game.

This is a tube sock crowd. Spoil them.

(3) A flannel shirt. Not the Wal-Mart variety discount shirt you'd buy at the local Tractor Supply clearance table. A good one. LL Bean does well. Filson has a couple that are just grand. The Chamois shirts from Cabela's/BassPro are nice too. Basically, a better grade outdoor shirt than you'd ever buy yourself. It'll last a decade. Seriously.

You might need someone to "go in" with you on a boat some time in the future. This is the sort of gift for that guy on the list. Besides, they probably have daughters meaning their flannel shirt collection has been heavily raided. I know.

(2) A waterproof camera. Doesn't have to be the super rugged model. It just has to survive three minutes on the bottom of a normal stream or one lifetime encounter with a softball-sized bit of granite.

Your buddy is using a phone right now. He's going to drop it. Then he's going to bitch endlessly about how he was slimed and the case wasn't worth a shit and you'll be stuck with the drama of trying amateur phone rescue (try finding a bag of rice at the stream-side fly shop ... go ahead, try) instead of more fishing.

Save the day before it happens.

(1) A Fold-and-Go Gas Stove Here.  Yes, it can be a little fiddly. It upgrades the field lunch from cheese-and-crackers to hot coffee and grilled cheese or chili or  a nice tortellini-and-tomato soup.  Civilization at the truck's tailgate is awfully nice.

My Canadian fly-in buddy and I replaced our shore lunch emergency reserve butane based stove (almost burnt down a swimming pool when tested this year after most of a decade in service) with this new folding beast. Amazing difference.

We needed a large wind screen to make it work well but the control was awesome and it folded into our kitchen bag much better than the large bulky square thing it replaced. Also, gave not one hint of any explosive tendencies unlike the old butane model.


What? 

No fish gear?

Would you seriously try to pick out another man's underwear? (Something in low-rise mesh?  -- apologies to Bill Murray).

Then steer clear of buying fishing gear for someone other than yourself. You can't do it as well as as they can and any serious trout fisherman has enough gear already. If you are a spouse reading this, I assure you your husband has hundreds if not thousands of dollars of fishing gear you have no idea even exists. Let it go.

** Special Spousal Selection ** 

Here is a concession to the serious gift giving need of spouses. He wants a hall pass. 

That's it. A card with something like "seven days of unaccountable time spent chasing trout" on a little handmade certificate inside a card would delight the guy.

He doesn't want a trip (well, he might ... but you probably can't pick it unless he said "I want to go with the Drunken Trout Fly Shop to Belize") as much as he wants the ability to go on a trip.

Don't want him gone a week? Give him three "free weekend"  passes. No spousal expectations from Friday at 5 PM until Sunday at 5 PM (mostly sober) is a great consideration.

What he needs is a new set of snow tires or four 3-packs of new boxers.

What he wants is to go fishing in the spring/summer/fall.

He'd really like the hall pass to be for additional fishing time in excess of his usual and customary fishing time. We know that probably won't happen (because you'll think .. "I gave you three weekends, how much more time do you need?") and no husband would expect anything but a time-limitation gift from the spousal unit.

Hey. We've been married a couple times over here at the Amber Liquid hangout. We know how this "creeping domesticity" expectation works. That's how wives become ex-wives, frankly.

SO, shop away ... shop away.

The Christmas card this year sent to the trout guys sums the holiday sentiment this year.

It was a gingerbread man saying " bite me."

Ho Ho Ho. (I'm not talking about your mother, Big Bear. Don't sit on me.)

Prost.