Silver Princes

I've been waiting two years for the right timing and ability to double-haul the 8 weight again in my favorite salty place.  Finally got the chance, and did ok for a 60 year old last chance cripple.  Seven days on the bow of the skiff by myself, assuming all the responsibility of casting to every fish Juan saw at every clock angle imaginable, sometimes all at once if he had his way.  We made four long morning runs up to the wintertime land of plenty, and Juan had me around 'em.  One day stood out among the rest, shooting fish in a barrel, but we worked and hunted hard for the schools the rest of the time.  Reality check.  I booked the week that was available on pretty short notice, so I didn't have the morning low tides I love for Gurgler fishing, but I still got some eats on top.  The rest were still mostly visible.  Shoulders willing, I shall return to make up for some lost time.

The man, the legend.  I let him hold one of my big offshore fish!

Not enough Gurglers, a few too many dumbells, but a nicely rounded selection for the week.  The blacks aren't well represented, but really performed.

The Idaho guys, Dave and Brett, who lit the fire under me last month to book this trip.

The Resturante La Pigua cream of shrimp soup. Light tomato based, with a little cheese and a splash of sherry wine that I've copied at home for years now.  There was plenty of shrimp consumed nightly, and some grilled snook fillets to spice it up.

One Pattern

The soft hackle.  In my case, it usually has a brown body.  This is the first fly I'm always reaching for.    Get it over a fish, and there's just something that they can't pass up.  

The ones here consist of a dubbing blend abdomen and thorax, ribbed tightly with brown thread that is invisible, but adds shape, segmentation, and durability.  Four different soft hackles, tied in tip rearward and flared in front of the fuzzy thorax.

Its fast!  Tie in the Z-lon shuck, dub the body rearward, wrap the thread forward through the dubbing, flare in a hackle tip, and done.  Assorted sizes of this thing can cover the whole season of mayflies and caddis. 18's and 20's for baetis and midges.  14's and 16's for Mahoganies, March Browns, and PMDs.  A size 10 or 12 for the drake afternoons and evenings.  It's the best emerging caddis I've ever used.

Its the swiss army knife of flies.  I dead drift it on top, or in the film.  Its always alive, yet vulnerable.  There's a reason it has flourished for centuries.

Hackle consisting of partridge, CDC, pheasant rump, and hen neck.  The possibilities are endless.

Dubbing blend of spikey squirrel with a touch of flash.  It has a close resemblance to hares mask.

CDC

Partridge

Pheasant rump

Hen neck.  Sloppy and fishy.

Fishing!

Warmer pacific air.  Warmer waters in the equatorial zone of the Pacific Ocean.  No jet stream from Canada.  El Nino!  Aside from a couple of PNW cold fronts, its been a mild, dry December in these parts.  Like Montana in early October, without the wind.  I don't often get to fish the river wearing just a warm shirt in December.  Temperatures ranging from the mid-20's overnight into the low 40's by afternoon are strong invitations. Little to no wind most days. To top it off, BWO's are hatching daily from about noon to 3:30, and I have the river all to myself.  Forty minutes from home.  Bankers hours.  No boats.  No gloves.  No cold fingers.  I can hear a pin drop. Thank you El Nino.  

Most of the millions of people who have fished this river have never seen the parking lot completely empty.  It's rare for sure, and always full during "season."  It always warms my heart to see solitude on the final curve down to the river.

This is what we have to deal with courtesy of the BOR, downstream water rights, and electricity needs.  Two daily peaks for power generation, 1100 to 3100 to 1100 to 3100. The trout adapt, I guess.  There were more bugs back in the days prior to this insanity.  I can fish below the dam early, when the morning drop occurs.  About two hours later, the water drops for the afternoon at the access 7 miles downstream.  I make the move to coincide with falling water and BWO's.  

The trail at the start of the upstream fishing looks more like October.

At 3100, the banks are still fishy.

A quarter mile up the trail gets no sunshine this time of year, so a bit of what little snow we've had still survives.

Around the corner, the sun shines daily again with a slight opening in the canyon.

Speaking of the sun shining!

This is where the good stuff starts. A large island with a holding pool/riffle here at the bottom, a magic side channel coming down on the right, and a big dry fly riffle/pool at the top.

The place is just full of these 12-14 inch things, and they seem to make more of an appearance in the winter.  One after another if you want them.  

Favorite side channel on the whole stretch.  Its only a foot or two deep, and always has a few challenging risers.

These all did it well, but the CDC and Organza combos on the left are the hero's.

This is a wonderful dry fly flat fed by a riffle and drop at its top end.  Its normally occupied by half the fly fishermen in Utah and Colorado, but not this time of year.

Browns this size are more common on the small, sparse winter hatches of midges and blue wings.

The flat at the top of the island after the water has dropped for the afternoon.

Looking down at the top of the island as the mid-afternoon shadows grow longer.

The CDC/Organza Mole-Shuttlecock-Hanger-Whatchamacallit Variant has ruled the month.  In a #16 no less!

The magic channel in its afternoon glow.

Some of these larger fish still take the little stuff, and my bigger little stuff.

Walking back home to fish the last couple of runs of leftovers.

Staying just behind the shadows.

Its December, the fish only eat little tiny stuff in slow deep water, and won't move much, right?  Ya.  I did this. A number 10 Sparrow (Gartside), dead-drifted from just under the film to about 6 inches down, in a foot of water.  They ate the shit out of it pre and post-hatch.  Fun stuff in the dead of winter.  It has never occurred to me to even try something like this now, but it was on my patch from the MO in October.

One of those Sparrow fish.

This was really crazy.  Another fly on the patch, leftover from the MO.  A giant #8 2x long Cary Special fished nearly straight upstream along the banks, or dead-drifted in the faster shallow riffles during the last hour.  Fished it where they ain't supposed to be, but they saw it and ate it!  

This is what the rocks look like when the river goes from 3100 to 1100.  Here, where its somewhat wider than most of the canyon, its still a 12-15" drop in depth.

The snow and cold have returned, so this is likely my last fish of 2023.  I'll take it.

This guy and me, we had a little contest.  He rises in the same spot, in the same lane, every afternoon.  A few days ago, he ate my Sri Lanka, better knows as a Veil Emerger.  I missed him.  Then later that afternoon on the way out, he ate a Harrop midge.  Pricked him with that one, but he went back to his spot.  Yesterday, I gave him the Organza hanger.  Ya, took me three tries, but it was the sweetest catch of them all.

Forgotten Emergers

I go through phases with my fly addiction.  I get on a kick for a certain fly or style, and make  room in a box until there's another box. The addiction procreates.  The selection becomes nearly endless.

Some flies though, while they work perfectly well and I enjoy using them, somehow fade away.   I get down to just a few, forget where I bought them (in the case of fly-shop patterns), or perhaps get on another kick that I like better.  The remnants, often all chewed up, end up in a stray compartment or stuck in a worn out fly patch from seasons long ago.  

Last month, I took it upon myself to dig through dozens of forgotten flies, raise them from the dead, and actually sort and evaluate them.  There were dozens and dozens that needed rebuilt, but were otherwise still fishable.  They needed new wings, a new abdomen, or perhaps a new tail or shuck.  I chucked a bunch, but the repairs on most were quick and easy in the vise.  The re-ties are faster than a whole new one, even with selecting the needed materials, and somehow it just feels good to resurrect an old friend that once proved itself. So now, I have a new box completely full of these bugs labeled "rescues."  They're kind of dear to my heart again, in a weird way.  I'm carrying that box next season!

The result of this refreshing look back is a re-discovery and renewed interest of some old patterns I once carried, and had simply forgot or neglected to give some space in my overcrowded boxes.  (Like I need another damn trout fly in my life!)  So with time on my hands, and feathers between my fingers, I'm bringing some back for 2024.

We all know what Gary LaFontaine's observations in Caddisflies did for caddis fishing.  A decade or so later, in 1990, came his great work The Dry Fly-New Angles.  That one, too, got my bobbin spinning. I kept going back to his observations about the Halo Emerger, how it greatly reduced the number of refusals on what's now my home river, the Green.  I tied a bunch.  For about 7 or 8 years, I fished them on the Fork, while guiding on the Encampment and North Platte, floating the Green, and wading all the spring creeks and tailwaters I still fish today.  Then it somehow got lost, probably because Harrop's Last Chance Cripple in so many sizes and colors took over my boxes.  This one is tied with an Ultra Dry wing.  I never quite understood the original orange deer hair wing, even with its explanation.

This one is tied with a CDC wing because, well, you know.

I landed in a wonderful place in Colorado for fly fishing in my mid-teens, though I didn't really know it going in.  The local fly shop in Boulder, The Western Angler, had John Gierach and AK Best as shop employees.  John Barr was a regular in there, among other notables to learn from.  I stopped in weekly, sometimes daily, for about a decade. During one of the Saturday morning tying demos, John tied a nymph he called the Barr Emerger. (somebody called it that).  He told a hero story of using it on a spring creek in Montana. (Turns out it was Nelson's, but at that time, I didn't even know what a spring creek was and had never been to Montana).  "Gink it, and its just deadly," he said.  (What's Gink?)  Anyway, I did as he said, and took some little size 18's and 20's that were way overdressed to Cheesman Canyon, a place said to be the toughest fly fishing in Colorado, but loaded with trout.  Both were right, and those trout ate that fly once in a while, which was saying something in those days since I was still mostly clueless.  For some reason, I never got around to trying them when I started spring creek fishing in the mid-80's.  I will in 2024.

In 1984, I made my first visit to the Livingston spring creeks.  I had read an article about them in one of the magazines, and at the end of the article it had the contact names and phone numbers for each creek. I jumped on it, made some reservations, and the rest is history as they say.   On the drive there, I had stopped at every fly shop in West Yellowstone because I had never seen such a plethora of fly fishing stuff in such a small area.  Hell, that was a huge part of the whole vacation.  At Blue Ribbon Flies, I bought some little emergers that had a round foam "wing."  They must have recommended it because I'd have never bought it.  To this day, I remember casting these flies in the pool in front of the picnic table at Armstrong's while a couple of guide friends looked on, joking about my casting stroke.  (Yes, THAT pool, the far bank of my favorite flat on any spring creek anywhere.)  It was about the only fly I could get an eat on, and every once in a while I'd actually hook up.  For years, I just called it "The Emerger," not knowing if it had a name or what it might be.  It was my number one go-to on Poindexters, Milesnicks, Silver Creek, the Fork . . . anywhere the water was flat, clear, and the fish were picky.  Over the last decade or so, it disappeared out of my boxes.  It's coming back strong in three sizes and a couple colors.

The last of my original shop flies, circa mid-80's.  Umpqua still lists them for sale.

In my earliest days visiting the Ranch, I was way out of my league.  A freshman at Dead Drift U. I could catch a fish or two on a beetle, sometimes an Elk Hair Caddis, and once in a while on some other horrible looking fly I tied to try and imitate one of the millions of bugs hatching in late June and early July.  But, I'd see guys out there hooked up repeatedly.  Bing.  Lawson.  Rene'.  A bunch of other "old timers" at the upper parking lot.  (I'm 19!)  Walking back up the trail one afternoon I meet this couple.  Every time I had seen them in the river the last few days, it seemed like they were hooked up.  So I just straight up ask what they are using, and without hesitation the man says, "Feather Duster!"  "What's that?" I pipe back.  They not only show me one, but give me two!  "That's a dry fly?" I ask.  He says to dry it out and put some floatant on it. "What kind of floatant do you use?"  "Mucilin and gasoline!" Whoa. (I hadn't yet read Bergman's Trout)

I guess I figured I'd better just say thanks and carry on, two flies up.  I remember these two people like it was yesterday.  I never got their names, even though I saw them again that trip and on a couple of subsequent years.  They'd always stop and say, "How ya doin' Beetle Jim?"  I wish I knew who they were and could thank them again, even 40 years later.  Perhaps give them a few flies.

Of course, I drove up to Lawson's to buy some ostrich that I didn't have, whipped out my vise on the steering wheel of the truck, and tied up a bunch in the parking lot.  That was standard procedure back then.  The flies were just like the AP nymphs I had been tying to fish in Colorado, only with an ostrich body.  So once I learned not to pull so hard as to break the ostrich, I was good.  I found some of those originals last month, tied on Mustad 94840's, and somewhat overdressed like all my flies back then.  I'll try and fish them, as I have sporadically for decades. I'll tie a few more, dressed more appropriately on a more modern hook, because they'll still work as good as they did 40 years ago.  Powder 'em up. 

Marabou for the tail instead of moose hair.  Motion!  Hen hackle for the wing case and legs instead of the moose hair.   A little more motion, and definitely easier to tie in and tie off.  Dubbed squirrel for the thorax for just a slightly buggier look. Will still float well, maybe with that little tail dangling just below the meniscus for the final trigger.  Decent visibility on a lighter glare. The Feather Duster Variant.

CDC edition with the wing case and legs from a CDC feather.  Big time floating nymph, with more motion, and that marabou tail still doing the pole dance.