Caddis Addict - The Confessions of a Caddis Junkie
By Neil M. Travis, Montana/Arizona
Some people are addicted to booze; some people are addicted
to tobacco, sex, fast cars, and fast women, but I confess
that I am addicted to fly fishing for trout with caddis
imitations.
You know what caddis flies are? They are those moth–like
insects that hatch in great numbers throughout the season, and
cause trout to go absolutely crazy. For a caddis addict such
as myself they cause me to go slightly crazy as well.
During my early years of fly-fishing caddis flies were not very
important. The Au Sable River in Michigan had a few caddis fly
hatches, but they were mostly overshadowed by the more prominent
mayfly hatches. There was a small black Chimarrha caddis that
hatched early in the year, but it usually happened when a real
good hatch of small sulfur mayflies was in progress. Throughout
the season there were a few other caddis flies, but in my memory
they were just a few bugs mixed in with some good numbers of
mayflies. Then I moved to Montana, and everything changed.
My first exposure to real caddis fly fishing came soon after
I moved to Montana during the early days of what passes for
spring in the Rocky Mountains. I heard about a hatch of caddis
called the Mother's Day hatch that attracted some attention by
some locals on the Madison River in an area called the Bear Trap.
It was a slightly warm day with a weak sun shining through a
high overcast when I first approached the river. The river flowed
along without the slightest sign of any bugs of any kind. Perhaps,
I thought, this is just a snipe hunt, and I am the sucker that's
holding the flashlight and the burlap sack. Wandering upstream I
began to notice an occasional insect fluttering over the water,
but hardly enough activity to stimulate any kind of feeding
activity by trout in water that was barely above freezing. Then,
almost without warning, all hell broke loose as a trickle of bugs
turned into a blizzard, and the previously tranquil water became
a boiling mass of trout splashing and slashing at the emerging
flies. More than trout became hooked that day!
Since those days so many years ago I have chased caddis fly hatches
from the Yellowstone River in Montana to Henry's Fork in Idaho, from
slick spring creeks to the flat water of high mountain lakes. Rarely
have I been disappointed.
Caddis flies are simple bugs. Some of the larva, or worms as
anglers call them, build cases to protect themselves, and
others just crawl around in the buff. When they have finished
their juvenile stage they spin a cocoon like a moth, and a few
weeks later they emerge underwater, swim to the surface and fly
away. When the hatches are heavy streamside vegetation is covered
with scurrying caddis flies, and the air just over the surface of
the stream is often obscured by the fluttering bugs. All this
activity is too much for the resident trout, and a feeding
frenzy often ensues.
Caddis fly imitations are equally simple, and if you are a
basically lazy fly tyer like I am then caddis fly patterns
are just what the doctor ordered. The basic adult caddis
imitation consists of a body, down wing, and hackle. There
are no complicated split tails, hackle point wings, complex
dubbing mixtures, or any of the other tying techniques that
turn one's hair another shade of gray. The colors are mostly
drab mixtures of brown, tan, or olive; some deer hair will
usually suffice for a suitable wing, and you don't need to
invest a small fortune in premium hackle since caddis flies
don't float very well. Under most situations if your imitation
is slightly awash in the surface film it looks just like the
real thing.
What I find so addictive about caddis fly fishing is the
results. I have so many pleasant memories that are tied
to caddis fly hatches that it is difficult to separate
out just one or two that are notable.
There was a high mountain lake where big cutthroats cruised
through the depths like dark gray torpedoes ignoring our
best offerings until one warm early summer day when I
spotted a large tan colored bug running along the surface
of the water like a sprinter competing in the 100 yard
dash. Suddenly I though someone had tossed a huge rock
into the water as the racing bug disappeared in a
tremendous splash. One of the torpedoes had struck, and
I sat in my float tube with my jaw hanging down in
disbelief. More tan colored bugs began making the same
race and more explosive rises intercepted most of the
frantic racers, but I managed to catch one of them before
it was devoured, and discovered it was a large caddis fly.
Fully a size 10 I had nothing like it in my fly box, but
that night I remedied that, and the following day I was
back armed with some appropriate imitations. The secret
was simple; by sitting just off shore in my float tube
I would cast the fly just out to the edge of the weed
bed, and as soon as it hit the water I stripped the fly
back along the surface of the water as quickly as I could
without pulling the fly underwater. The fly had not traveled
but a few feet before it disappeared in a minor explosion,
and I snapped the fly off on the strike. Once I got the hang
of just letting the line slip through my fingers on the strike
and letting the trout hook itself my hooking ratio improved
markedly. The formerly uncatchable torpedoes became almost
easy targets.
Then there was the night on a famous trout stream known
for its difficult trout. I had fished most of the late
afternoon with only limited success to mostly small fish.
I seriously contemplated calling it a day about an hour
before sunset, but I decided to stay to see if there might
be a spinner fall. In the fading light of that early summer
evening I began to notice a few caddis flies fluttering along
the bank where the grass hung down over the water. By leaning
down close to the water I could see an occasional bulge in the
slick water right along the bank. Tying on a caddis imitation
I bounced the fly off the grass and let it settle on the surface
within inches of the bank. A short float and the fly disappeared
in a small bulge, and as I tightened a sizable brown trout cart
wheeled out of the shallow water and raced upstream throwing a
rooster tail of water and weeds in his wake. Until it was too
dark to see where I was casting I hooked one large trout right
after another in a stretch of water where just a few hours
earlier I would have sworn there wasn't a trout over 10 inches
long.
In a few weeks the Mother's Day caddis will begin hatching
on the big rivers in Montana, and although I may not be there
this year in person I'm certain that I will be there in spirit. ~ Neil M. Travis, Montana/Arizona
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