A Newbie's Journey Part IV
It's been a few weeks since I've written anything about fishing. But that doesn't mean that I haven't been out on the water. Any time spent on the river is great, but it would be even better if I could hook a fish. So this time I decided not to go fishing, I'm going hunting (for trout). What's the difference? When hunting for fish I try to be more aware of not spooking the fish, of presenting my fly to look just like what they're already eating, of keeping low and quiet and not tripping on stones and kicking up mud.
The first thing I did was to tie up some flies of the same size and color as the mayflies I've seen the trout eating. I made my own version of an Al Campbell's "too simple" fly by simply wrapping a hook with a thread of tan burlap and building a wing of white Antron yarn.
Armed with what I hope will be a half dozen deadly mayfly imitations I headed out to the river.
I'd like to introduce you to what I think of as "my spot" and "my river". The Bear river is not thought of as a great trout stream. It reminds me of John Gierach's story "I'll fish anyone's St. Vrain." The St. Vrain is a little stream next to his house that has a few fish. It's a fair to middling trout stream that's easy to get to but doesn't have too many people fishing it. It's not famous and the fish aren't anything that will show up in a magazine, but in time, you get to know every little pocket, hole and riffle. The Bear is starting to feel like my St. Vrain.
It's a short hike to my spot and the view just wonderful.
The banks alternate between thick brush and trees and large boulders. The rocks form several deep pools at regular intervals.
After about a mile the river opens up to a wide, slow moving pool with large boulders under the water that provide lots of hiding places for trout. You have to be careful wading because if you're not watching your feet you can step between those underwater boulders right into a deep hole. The locals call those "Hat poppers".
This is "my pool".
Now that I've been there half a dozen times I know that fish will rise just in front of those small rocks on the right. But the big fish will be in front of that large white and gray boulder. Just upstream from that big boulder are a few smaller rocks that I can hide behind and let my fly drift downstream to the pocket. I tied about 6 feet of 6X tippet to my line and then tied on my own too simple mayfly. Even as I'm setting up my rig I can hear some BIG splashes from the trout hitting the bugs. This is going to be a good day, I can feel it.
I've tried fishing form this spot before, but I couldn't roll cast far enough out to get to the fish. This time I had waders so I carefully waded out about 6 feet into the water where I could hide behind two of those low boulders. The bottom drops off quickly there and I'm already up to my waist. A few more feet and I'd be in over my head.
Sure enough, there's a good size splash right where I knew he'd be. About 15 feet out there's a boulder that's creating an eddy and the trout is hitting mayflies just at the seam of the quiet water that the eddy is creating and the fast flowing water coming between the rocks. I roll cast my fly into the eddy and watch.
The first thing I notice is that the fast moving water is bringing my fly line down stream faster than the fly and I'm getting drag. So I need to practice mending my line upstream to keep that downstream loop from forming. After a dozen tries I'm starting to get the hang of it. Meanwhile, the trout is still hitting flies at that same spot. I must not be spooking him.
I keep placing my fly upstream from him and floating it down. He takes a mayfly right next to mine. Then another just behind mine. Then I see the wake as he takes a run at my fly but then ignores it. I just keep tempting him with it. One dozen, then two dozen cast and he's always so close. He wants it, I just have to keep tempting him.
I find myself talking to the fish. "Eat it. Come on buddy, look at that big fat fly. Eat it!"
After all those big splashes I saw my fly disappears under the water with a simple gulp. I raise my pole and pull in some line and that when it hit's me. I've got him!
My gosh he was a log! I've hooked a couple other trout but this guy felt heavy. He wiggled a bit but it was more like a big fist grabbing my line and pulling it to the bottom. Once again I find myself yelling "I've got him. I've got him." And once again I realize that I don't know what to do. I've got slack between my right hand and the reel so I can't use the drag of the reel to bring him in. I grab the line with my left hand and try to strip in some line to bring him in. He starts to wiggle hard and the battle really starts. I give him a little bit of line so he doesn't break off but he's really fighting. My mind is pretty much blank and I'm so excited that can barely process thoughts. He takes off for a bit and then goes straight down again and as quickly as it started it was over. The tension on my rod releases and the line goes limp.
I reeled in my line and see that he broke off the fly.
I'm staring at the end of the tippet with a huge smile on my face. I hooked a big trout with a fly that I tied at a location where I knew he would be. But the excitement of actually hooking a fish is so overwhelming that I go brain dead and can't think of my next move. I'm going to have to go over that in my mind and practice the motions of retrieving the fish so they become 2nd nature when I do hook one.
Through the rest of the evening I hooked one more very briefly but he spat out the fly almost instantly. I did have two other small adventures though. After doing a couple of laps on that big pool from the downstream side up to the boulders I decided to go back to the roll casting spot and try for some of the others that started rising again. By this time it was getting pretty dark and as I cast a small brown bat flew right past my face just inches from my nose. I jumped, and then laughed at myself. Looking up at the sky I could see half a dozen bats taking bugs in the air.
It started getting too dark to even see the fly on the water. The trout were still rising and it was a half moon last night which gave off plenty of light. But down here in the canyon at water level it was pretty dark so I decided to pack it in.
Now, I've done a lot of backpacking, hiking, camping, and rock climbing so I come prepared. I had a flashlight in my pack and I put fresh batteries in it yesterday. But for some reason the damn thing wouldn't work. So now I have a mile hike back to the car in the dark. In some spots the trees open up and the moonlight helps. But when the trail goes back under the trees it's freakin' dark. But I've dealt with this before and I know that you just take it slow and easy and eventually you'll find your way out. I once climbed Taquitz peak and topped out a 1000 foot vertical face just as the sun was setting. My wife and I had to hike off the back of the mountain and down to the car (about 5 miles) as it was getting darker and darker. We eventually made it to the car 3 1/2 hours later. Like I said, you just take it slow and be careful.
Luckily, this hike was only a mile long and I was back at the car in about 20 minutes. I called my wife to let her know that I was running late and I did make it out of the canyon safely. looking at my cell phone I realize that it's after 9:30 already. I hiked in at 6:15. Where did those hours go?
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