An Autumn Mosaic

I spent about five hours on a small stream yesterday. It was a beautiful day once the clouds broke and it was one of those days where everything went right. The stream was running almost at capacity, clear crisp water, I mean it sparkled like diamonds. I spent more time taking in the scenery than I did fishing, now that may not be entirely true but it was close. Looking into the stream the colored leaves seem to jump right at you, and when placed against the cobble bottom it look like a mosaic...natures mosaic.

The trees are in various stages of color change, some gold some red, there is also that clump of green in there.

The brook trout are not to be outdone. Many colors present along the body of this one.

I wish I could capture to true colors of this leaf jam. They were so vibrant with the riffled water flowing over the top....a few inches below that jam a willing brookie took a dry fly.

The fly...it's colors are that of fall.

Could fishing get any better? This angler says no..

This fly did reasonably well in it's first outing.

days to come...

A Shared Stream, Brook Trout And Dry Flies

In the small stream angling community secrecy is probably the best piece of equipment an angler can possess, and if the stream contains wild brook trout that knowledge would be harder to get from the angler than a secret from the CIA. Tuesday one of those secrets was shared by a fellow small stream addict with myself and Kirk. Rowan from "Connecticut Fly Angler" was gracious enough to show us one of his gems.

We chose a place to meet and the time was 9am, which is about an hour before the brookies become active. In winter they love to sleep in and breakfast is when the sun warms the waters. The air the night before was cold and the frost that formed on everything was very picturesque. We got ourselves geared up and a small walk brought us to the stream. Splitting up, Kirk wet downstream and Rowan upstream, and the senior angler was given the easier, kinder access run to fish.

The easy access I fished is in the first photo and as it turned out to be my best run of the day. I tied on a "pinkie" which is one of the better flies for winter stream fishing. Several casts were made but not one honest take. What I did notice was that while retrieving the fly several times I saw a slight interest in it as it came to the surface. A look in the fly box and a Stimulator" was plucked from it and tied on. The second cast and my first wild jewel was at hand.

Rowan working one of many "fishy" looking runs on this stream.

I continued my way downstream, slowly working all of the good trout water. The stimulator still attached. As it turned out that was the only fly I would only need. I tried a few soft-hackles which worked but not like the "stimi".

Another Connecticut wild one. These brook trout were strong and well fed.

The little 4'10" 2wt was bent pretty good by the brookies in this stream....is that green grass?

I never give the names of streams I fish, but in this case I will. The reason I'm going to tell the name is because I believe no one will want to challenge it's defence. So the name of the stream is "Thorn Brook" I have several gashes on my hands and fingers that still throb.

These fish are worth bleeding for.

Kirk working a good run.

This run-pool owes me a giant....I had a beauty on here and lost him.

My last jewel of the day....hook barely in has lip. Take a good look at this "buck"...the hooked snout, that kype. the shape of his head as well as the shoulders...this will be an awesome fish come next October.

The day was pretty much ended when we stopped for a coffee. Kirk and Rowan fished a few other areas but I chose to go home. Thanks Rowan, and thanks Mr. and Mrs. S. Fontinallis, for a fine day.

A Fall Outing

A beautiful reflection, "small stream style"

Yesterday was one refreshing day. I had a few things to take care of early in the morning so my start time was delayed some. Once completed and I was on the stream. There was a stiff breeze at times and although the sun was out for the most part there were also those times of clouds and that's when I felt the chill. The rain we had seems to have brought the water levels up, and that triggered a migration.

As I moved along the stream I noticed a few things. The places where I had before taken brookies were now void of them. Where did they go?

Well I finally managed to get one to take a dry fly. How beautiful is this...a male brook trout decked out in his autumn attire, rising to a classic dry fly...folks it does not get better then that.

The water at times looked so black. With the colored fallen leaves it looked like a night sky with the stars sparkling brightly.

I managed to fool a few more, I was surprised that all of the trout today were taken on dry flies.

But what was a plus this day was the sight of brook trout spawning all along the stream. I did not disturb them for their mission is far to important.

Mission accomplished....I viewed to whole process here. Thanks.

A Native, A Gentleman......

I have said many times that the brook trout is not an early riser. He is a fish that likes to sleep late and when he does wake he likes to just lounge along the stream bottom and quietly get his thoughts together on the day ahead. He is very similar to me in that regard and probably like most of us. Over the many years of pursuing fontinallis I have found that he will not actively start feeding until 8 AM, and that 10 until 2 are prime times to see him work the surface. Maybe that's why I like him so much, he gives me time for that second cup of coffee which I so enjoy.

Arriving at the stream I found the water flowing gently. There were several stressed colored leaves floating along and I wondered what is the fall foliage season going to be like in this low rainfall year. As I stepped into the stream I could see brook trout racing for cover, a good sign and a bad sign. The bad sign they were aware of me the good sign they don't stay scared to long.

I moved upstream kicking up the bottom and sending clouds of silt downstream. I found a nice looking place to stop and looked over the stream. I chose to wait out the silt storm and looked about the forest on either side while figuring out my game plan. I tied on a fresh piece of tippet and a dry fly and was ready to work the stream. It was not long before I had a willing player. A beautifully colored brook trout was at hand. I was fortunate to take several more during my few hours. As I started working my way back to my starting point I spooked a couple of nice fish. They scooted downstream in a hurry. I stopped and decided to wait and see if they would return. Some minutes later I sent the fly on a drift, there was no response, I repeated this a couple of times with the same result. They did not return, and I started walking again and then I spotted the fish. He was lying just in front of some stream vegetation. I cast the fly and saw the fish move to it and take.

He took that fly all over the stream, in the process he created his own silt storm. I even enjoyed a leap from him before he was at hand. A wonderful wild creature, a native, and a true blessing taken on a dry fly. Thanks friend.

It's So Simple

As I fished a small stream Sunday, while seemingly stopped in time for some moments I realized, or should I say brought that realization forefront while standing near some of the most pristine of waters, waters so pure and clear they almost are not there. It became quite clear in my mind that the reason for the beauty of this place and the wild jewels that call it home is the water.

In the series of photos I'll try to show you this beauty as it cascades over countless obstacles on it's journey to the sea.

In the pools and riffles of this stream I found a few willing brook trout. They were gracious to rise to a dry fly. It's so simple my friends....all that's needed is clean cold flowing waters.

"Thank You"

The Streams of Waquoit Bay, Massachusetts

This is the acorn trail, a name given to it by me because of the large amount of scrub oak tress that line it, and scrub oaks mean acorns and lots of them. On crisp mornings when walking they crunch under foot and make a wonderful sound. The trail follows the stream, a stream that we have fished before. Jeanette says it's her favorite, because of the simply wild surroundings located in an area with many people. In the times we have been here we have only met a man and his black lab. I favor this area for it is home to another Cape Cod sea run brook trout stream. The stream starts inland and gains volume from the many springs that feed it ice cold water. It flows, meanders to the sea at Waquoit Bay. This stream has some very strong brook trout and every one hooked the chances for bringing one to hand are not good, at least for this angler. But the rewards come in many other ways.

We spent many hours on the stream that day and I was able to graduate from another class on fishing for wild brook trout with a taste for salt.

These waters possess a clarity that makes you wonder how fish are not consumed by herons and ospreys. When standing and looking into the stream I saw various little fish from herring fry to mini eels to brook trout fry. I guess that's why streamers work so well.

It's difficult to tell from this photo but the water in this pool was waist high, and this is where I encountered my first brook trout.

The brook trout put the Cabela Glass Rod 3wt to the supreme test. He bulldogged the bottom, ran up and down, entangled the watercress, and leaped several times before giving up. A quick photo and off he went. I'm having his photo printed and I will frame it for he was indeed a special catch.

Streamers...not many patterns are necessary, just a few in different sizes. I like marabou patterns best.

This was the average size of the brook trout brought to hand.....to hand not hooked.

A true story. I was fishing this run with a streamer. Several drifts brought a strike and a miss. On another pass the trout struck and it was violent. A battle ensued and I got the upper hand. I knew the trout was big but never realized just how big until I could see him. At first glanced he looked to be 16 inches. Jeanette was looking and said your going to have trouble landing that fish. He would not stop the strong runs. Finally I managed to sort of subdue him and was lifting him over a underwater obstacle when he threw the streamer. That fish was 18 inches. He sat for a moment to let me look and then was gone. Do you know what a 18 inch wild brook trout can do to your nerves? I've taken one that big in Maine many years ago and it is like nothing else.

Notice the pale coloration. Has he been at sea?

Another lesson...I continued to fish that same pool and caught a brook trout on a dry fly. I always try once or twice to bring one of these fish to the surface, this is the second time in the years I've fished these salter streams and actually taken trout on a dry.

"Jim's Brook"

There is a stream in northern Connecticut that I've had the pleasure of fishing for years. It s a typical freestone mountain stream with large boulders and lots of twists and turns. I do not know its origin, but it must be full of water for this stream has ample flows at a time when rain has been a bit scarce. The stream flows through large stands of hemlock and hardwoods and has a beautiful amber tint to its waters. The smells of this woodland are hard to describe. Just upstream from the pool in the first photo is a tributary to the brook. This trib comes in through private property and also has real good flows. One day while fishing the stream I had the pleasure of meeting a lady who was walking her dog. We stopped to chat and she was very helpful in my quest to find out more about the little trib. She told me the name of it was Jim's Brook, a name given the stream by a landowner that owns a large chunk of the property that the stream flows through. She told me where the house was of the landowner. Now I have a good chance to perhaps gain access to Jim's Brook. By the way the lady I was talking to was 87 years old, and she said she would love to tell me some stories about the brook I was fishing but she had to get to work. " God Bless her"

I fished the stream that day, the leaves of many of the hardwoods have already fallen. As the sun hit various runs and pools I noticed a brook trout or two dart for cover.

It's a beautiful time of year to drift a dry fly through tea colored waters. The leaf litter on the bottom seems to reflect the colors of fall so brilliantly to the surface.

In one such pool I was able to get this jewel to take a dry fly. The brookie and water in which he came from were almost the same.

I now have a place to explore. Perhaps "Jim's Brook" will as good as the brook it delivers its cold waters to.