My Last Few Outings

A post about my last few outings. The weather was great, somewhat chilly, but this is March. The stream has been hot on and painfully slow, I guess the trout can be finicky even in a small stream. On a couple of trips I had the company of like minded anglers, both Pete aka TROUTI and Kirk aka FSH NUT have had success and that makes it all good. This stream holds wild brook trout and browns but the catch has been all browns for me. Well the calendar says it's the first day of Spring, only it's going to snow at some point today...oh well New England. Maybe a few hours of fishing today, then home to a plate of spaghetti.

Handsome. They can put a bend in a glass rod.

Pete...a quick snap and release. Nice brown.

This fellow took a soft-hackle dry.

Who in the hell could cast a fly in here? I know who. Not only cast in there but also come out with a brown on the fly. Nice outing gents.

Early Spring Angling

I had the pleasure of fishing a beautiful little stream on Thursday. The weather could not have been nicer. With air temps in the high fifties and a brilliant sun which made it feel so much warmer. The sparseness of the early April foliage and the clarity of the water made for some very slow stalking. Movement in a stealthy manner was the hot tip of the day. I started fishing wet flies and pretty much stayed with those through the outing. I was soon greeted by a feisty small brown at the very edge of a plunge pool, an odd place to find browns at this time of year.

I continued my trek downstream and was rewarded with another small brown. There are places along this stream that are so well protected by nature, that they might never be fished. The thorns are of such size that they could be recorded as not of this earth.

As I reached this nice run, a spot that has a prime undercut, I drifted the fly towards it. The fly was swinging through about mid stream when the fish hit. As I laid my hand in the water and lifted a fine female brown to photograph I realized it to was in a odd location also.

A hen in prime condition. A sign that the condition of the stream during this winter was satisfactory.

This section has always given up a nice brookie or two over the years. It's usually a mass of tangles and woody debris, but this time it was pretty open and very clear. I let the soft hackle drift to the clump of wood in the stream. I saw the fish come for the fly and back off. A few more casts later as the fly hung in the current he struck again. This fish had a lot of fight in it, even going airborne a time or two. In the end the 3wt won out.

The prize of the day, a wild handsome healthy male brown, beautifully spotted and the color of gold. He was released into the clear stream and vanished.

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It doesn"t get any better....It can't

Saturday and Sunday were sweet days afield. Monday just seemed to be sweeter. The stream I chose to fish is one I'm familiar with, but haven't fished this section in quite some time. The day could not have been better weather wise. A bright warm sun filled the woods and was so welcomed on my shoulders. Such days can also make for spooky trout, especially with low water conditions and the first few steps taken sent several trout to the highlands. There was not a single bug coming off the water, but I had to toss a dry. After some time I realized it was not going to happen and opted for a wet. As the day moved on this proved to be the right choice.

Even in death, nature shows incredible beauty.

Can you see the deer?

While extracting a fly from the briars I felt as if someone was watching me. I had not seen anyone, or caught any movement. I stared across the stream and observed a deer almost concealed in the brush. She had moved so quietly through the laurel and spotted me and froze. They are truly woodland ghosts.

The stream gave up some very beautiful wild browns. There brilliant red adipose fins and the red stripe on the bottom of the tail looked like fire in the sunlight.

The stream drops here and forms a large deep pool. It looks very promising but has yet to give up a fish. Below this pool the stream turns and begins to flow under a place this angler will always throw a fly. As the fly moved through the shade and barley touched sunlight on the other side the line went stiff. I set the hook and a few moments later I held a jewel. I tried for another photo but the brook trout said one and done.

It's at this time when you say it can't get any better.

As I was walking to my car I noticed some disturbance in the water. Slowing down I saw what appeared to be a somewhat large fish in the water. Moving closer I saw a big female brown. She appeared to be making a nursery. It was water maybe 6 inches deep. The head and shoulders of this brown were awesome. I took the photo and walked away. I'll be back in a later time.

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Sunday Fishing

A not so funny thing happened to me while fishing Sunday. While trying to step over a rock in the stream I slipped and fell to one knee. It hurt like hell for awhile but then it felt better and I continued fishing.

I was fishing the Farmington, where a lot of anglers were also fishing. I don't like close quarters fishing so I relied on a few places where I could find some water to myself. I started out as usual fishing streamers, then wets, and finally dries. All of the methods were able to produce a fish, or at least a strike, but the wet fly far out did the others. For those that follow my ramblings know the dry fly is my favorite way to fish, followed by the wet and the streamer. I have recently received many requests about fishing wet flies, and will address this in my next post. I'm not an expert in this fishing but can give my thoughts on it and I will direct you to a gentleman who can give you some great advice.

This brookie would not stay still. He flipped me off in a heartbeat and I wound up with the hook point in hand instead of the brookie.

On any stream or river one can find solitude. Several brookies and a brown came from this section.

A wet fly brown.

Getting back to that knee. When I went to sleep Sunday night it seemed OK, come the middle of the night I was ready to pull what little hair I have left out of my head. The pain was unbelievable, and remained like that until this morning. Finally the meds have started to take effect.

Farmington, a lesson learned, and who says you can't..........

Yesterday was another afternoon-evening outing on the Farmington. It was one of those rare mid summer days where the air was cool and a good breeze held the flying insects at bay. When I arrived I was surprised to see so many anglers, especially during the week. As I surveyed the water I saw a few rises but the bugs on the water were scarce.

I cast for awhile, moving along the river and managed to pick up a few small browns and a juvenile salmon. I changed flies with the thought of perhaps this will bring them to hand. Well that did not come to pass, instead what happened was I had the hookup but the fish did not want to have its picture taken.

I climbed out of the river and moved to another spot that has been good to me in past trips, and again it was good to me. Several wild brookies took the dries and soft hackles.

This guy was so beautiful.

As I began to move upstream a bit I ran into none other then Mr. "TROUT1". Pete was also fishing the river and we talked of are various losses of the day as well as other subjects. He told me that Mark was fishing much further up river and was planning on staying til dark. It was then that Pete informed me that another angler was in my sweet spot. With that I said I was going to move down and fish a place I haven't fish in some time. In our conversation Pete made mention of fishing with 4 or 5x tippet, I usually use 6x. We left and moved on. Good to see you again Pete.

The sun was retracting and there were lots of shadows on the river. This section is deep and wide and careful wading is required. It is also home to some big fish. I soon found out why Pete uses heavy tippet. My 4th or 5th cast I hooked a monster brown. I had him subdued, so I thought. He ran down stream and broke that tippet like it was nothing. This same movie was played again.

Some beauty streamside.

Finally I was able to bring a nice brown to hand.

I know that fishing this stretch of river can produce a "Big" brown. And that I should use one of those large streamers that offer these guys a meat and potatoes dinner they like. But I had an Adams parachute on and I let it fly. Big fish will eat little flies, won't they?

This beautiful Farmy brown hit the size 14 Adams in the eddy behind a big boulder. I can't say for certain but it looks wild to me.

As I was taking this photo, I stepped into a hole that brought the water up over my hip boots. It was a long slosshy walk back to the car.

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Wednesday Morning

For the last week or so the weather around here has been nasty. It's been hot and very humid with thunderstorms several times daily. My days on the stream usually begin after nine, being one who enjoys some coffee time before heading out and fishing through mid day and into the afternoon. With the weather so hot I have changed my starting time to about 6 am. This allows me to fish while it's still cool. Such was the case Wednesday I arrived to a very wet and misty landscape. The stream was flowing higher from the nights rain and the mist that rose above it was beautiful. The sun coming through the trees was spectacular.

The forest is so thick and green. I dropped the thermometer into the water and it came back with a 62 degree temp. I had taken the TQR 5ft 2wt and had it rigged with a dry fly.

It wasn't long before I found a willing player. The brook trout was also an early "riser"

On days as such finding trout can be as easy as finding shadows. If its dark chances are a fish will be holding.

This handsome brown was taken in shallow water. It tested the playing power of the 2wt.

Browns, Brookies, Black Flies, Bombers, and Blossoms

As I write this it's raining again, not has hard as it did last night or during the day Thursday, but none the less rain. I for one am not complaining for the amount of rain we have been getting over the last few weeks has produced some of the best dry fly fishing I have experienced in the last few years. The small streams are full of water, this makes for wild trout not be skittish and lying in those undercuts. The trout have been moving and it seems that where ever you place your fly your going to get a response.

It's quite enjoyable to see the trout rise and swipe at the fly. Many times they miss as it swiftly passes by, but they are determined to eat and will strike at it several more times.

With high water as such perhaps a pair of hippers should be worn, but I chose to wear hiking shoes which were wet and muddy in a few minutes. A couple of days and the synthetic material will be dry and ready for more.

I fished a variety of flies this day, The Black Fly, Bomber, and a few parachutes, all doing very well with bringing fish to the surface.

I knew this stream also held browns for I have caught a few smaller ones at times. But I was totally surprised when this guy struck the Black Fly and put some stress on the superfine rod. The high water brought the brown out of night time feeding. He hit the fly a mere two feet from where I was standing.

A beautiful wild brown. A wonderful catch from any water but a special catch from this small stream.

As I fished further upstream many brookies came to hand.

These brook trout are incredibly beautiful. They seem to be so energetic and full of life.

These turbulent plunge pools are where the Bomber shines. As the fly bounces up from the white water it usually brings a hard strike.

And such was the case here. A small stream blessing, on the Bomber.

The mountain laurel seems to be nearing a peak, and it's worth another look. I hope the rains don't take the blossoms.

"Mossy Pool" an Enigma

This is wonderful pool found along a small stream we frequent. I have fished it many times over the years with varying success. It's a beautiful section and often wild brookies can be seen rising in various sections of the pool. Kirk had given a name to this pool, "Mossy Pool". Friday morning Kirk and I met for a few hours to fish this stream. Upon reaching "mossy pool" Kirk said you fish it, that pool owes you a nice fish. I drifted the caddis and within seconds a brookie of generous proportions struck the fly, and missed. I continued to fish the pool with numerous rises. Finally I was able to bring a nice brookie to hand.

"Mossy Pool" can be at times a bit strange. Trout can be taken at various areas of the pool from the head, middle, and tail, right or left side. And there are times when you can fish it and never have a strike, as if it were barren. Thus somewhere along the line Kirk said that pool is an "enigma". And this day showed why at times it's just that.

Having fished the stream quite away upstream. I had to get moving on home. As I fished my wat down I came to "Mossy-enigma Pool". Again armed with a caddis dry I floated the fly through the pool. Not a look. I did this several times with the same result. On a last cast, as the fly reached the very tail of the pool a fish rose and hit the fly. I had been to slow to set the hook, but as I started the retrieve the fish struck again this time the steel struck struck home. The trout did a tailwalk that was awesome. He covered just about every inch of the pool trying to shake the nasty bug that bit him. Moments later a beautiful wild brown was at hand. His striking spots and color rivaled the brookies of this pool. Again a big thanks to both brown and stream were said, and off he went into the pool. A pool that is truly an "Enigma"

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"Awakening"

Saturday I fished a small blue line, one I haven't fished for some time. The early morning rain gave a sparkle to the woods and the new greenery seemed to glisten. Wet spring woodlands have a smell that is hard to describe. Hemlock and fern mixed with flowering bushes along with damp earth combine to hold an angler captive.

It did not take long for the Picket Pin to strike. The brook trout wasted no time chewing the fly. I had several hookups but they resulted in short distance releases. The fish seemed to be holding in the faster currents.

Several more strikes later I had the pleasure of my first brookie to hand. He would be the first of many. Take notice of the full bodied fly in his lip.

Spring woods. A Trillium wet with rain lies sleeping, waiting for the sun to wake it up. This wild flower is one of my favorites, and in the trips ahead I will take many photos of its beauty.

In this run, along the debris of wood, and leaves. The fly started to slow and hang in the current. In a heartbeat hell broke loose.

Moments later I held this handsome wild brown. He was so heavy with spots they seemed to jump out. Take note of the fly, it's getting thinner.

A Wild Brown

This photo represents a thin blue line. A wild trout stream. This is one of my favorite places on this stream. It is brook trout forest. And it is in this section that a wild jewel was to come to hand.

Wild Brook Trout

Not much peacock herl left on the fly.

The fly of the day. A Picket Pin, tied without hackle. This allows the fly to ride deeper in the water column.

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