A "Mini Wilderness" Stream.

A small stream, a wild small stream. This one flows freely over rock and fallen tree. A miniature version of a river flowing through a wilderness. I choose to fish these miniature wilderness streams because they offer me the quiet and solitude to fish. This is rare in these days of "hot fly fishing destinations", large trout, and large crowds.

To reach these streams does not take a great deal of effort, only forethought. A respect of these waters is a must for they are as fragile as a crystal vase. There is not a great deal of tackle necessary to fish these streams. The fly box need only a few patterns, especially this time of year. A fine 3wt rod, and an open eye as well as an open ear will bring the angler as close to nature as one can get.

Come join me on a recent June morning as I fish this mini wilderness stream.

A 6ft 3wt and a few flies. As it turned out I could have had only one fly and it would have been enough. The "bomber" was the star.

Flowing ever so peacefully the stream offers its bounty. The bomber bounces and bobs along the runs. One day the waters behind a boulder will offer up a beautiful wild trout, the next day it will be void.

On this day the spot behind the boulder offered this wild brown. His size does not say it all. Inch for inch this trout will rival any. He was so determined to gain his freedom that he ran upstream with vigor.

After getting tangled in this fly trap twice, I managed to finally get a free drift. Just in front of the rock the fly was pulled under.

The rod did all it could to keep the fish turned away from certain early release. I slid my hand in the cold water and lifted this wild gent up. I managed a photo and off he went.

A salute to this day and to the mini wilderness stream and its wild residents.

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The day after Thanksgiving

The day after Thanksgiving, Black Friday to most but not me, I don't like the term so I'll refer to it as the day after Thanksgiving. On this day I was to meet up with Kirk and do some fishing in a nice little small stream. The weather was "almost" perfect, that is it was sunny and oh so bright. But the air temp was pretty cold. I believe the temp never went above 32. It was a day of cleaning the ice out of the guides and trying not to slip as you moved along the streams edge.

On days like these there is incredible beauty along the walk. Ice forms on overhangs and when the sun hits it just right it's very hard to concentrate on the fishing, but that's OK.

We moved along the stream tossing various flies with some success. The trout were somewhat lethargic as expected and the hits were very subtle. There was a time when I fished a bomber and actually had several rises to the fly.

Early winter color along a decaying birch log.

I came to this run and observed what I though was foam forming at the end. Closer examination revealed it was ice which was topped off with snow. I tossed the wet fly into the run and it did not go very far before I had a solid and swift strike. Pulling back on the 2wt I felt the fish. Several moments past before a wild brown was at hand.

A wild winter brown. To try to describe the beauty of this fish without a photo could not be done.

Kirk and I continued to fish and caught several brookies. It could have been warmer this day after Thanksgiving, but not better.

Mussels, Brown Trout

In the course of ones time angling we are bound to cross paths with some strange happenings. These encounters will usually go unrecorded and remain memories in our mind coming forward at times when they are brought up in conversation while angling or over coffee and such. Here are two that I've encountered and was fortunate to have a camera handy to photograph them.

I was nymphing a small stream one day. In a section of slow moving water as the drift came to a stop. The fly set there for a few seconds and as I lifted the rod I could feel weight. Proceeding to retrieve I could tell it was not a fish, but perhaps a piece of sunken wood. As I placed the object on the bank I noticed a fresh water mussel had tried to eat my pheasant tail nymph. Being a strict catch and release guy I tried to remove the fly, only the mussel would not give it up. After wrangling for some time I finally got it out. I put the mussel back in the water and put the bent and tattered nymph in my box. I still have that fly somewhere.

Another time while fishing streamers one early morning I hooked a small brown. As the fish moved to the surface as I retrieved a second brown, somewhat larger than the one hooked on the streamer, hit the smaller one. The brown held the smaller one for some time. As I brought the two to shore, I attempted to shake the larger one free from the little one. He would have no part in letting go, and hung onto that fish. After picking him up, he let go. I looked at the smaller brown, he did not look to be harmed. I set him back into the water where he laid for a few moments and swam off.

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Thanksgiving Week Begins

As we head into this Thanksgiving week I had the time this Sunday to visit a small stream. As I walked through the woods I saw this remnant of a rock wall. There are many of these scattered through out Connecticut, property lines from old Yankee farmers reverting back to the earth. As I snapped the photo I wondered how many Thanksgivings had they witnessed.

The stream was in good shape, flowing crisp and clear. The air temps were near 50 degrees, so very comfortable. I tossed out my offering and the stream did the rest.
It was a long time before my first bump, and slowpoke that I am missed setting the hook. But soon another hit and this time ole swifty had my first hookup. A lovely wild brown was at hand. The brown was admired and sent upon its way.
I continued to have a good day, then again I seem to always have a good day on the stream regardless of what the fish provide or don't.

A nice trout was hooked at the tail of this pool. I never was given the opportunity to see what it was for it soon found refuge under the log and broke off.

Two wild browns were taken from this run. They used every possible angle to gain their freedom. They both succeeded, only one had his picture taken.

This guy was taken in the little creek below. I spotted him near a bank and was fortunate to place the fly in his zone, and he took it. As I walked the little creek I saw several other trout.

As I pulled int my garage, I could pick up the smells of something good. Upon entering the kitchen I was greeted with this sight.....Pumpkin Bread...Thanksgiving week has begun.

November Browns

Yesterday I spent a few hours on a Class 1 wild trout stream. I have not fished this stream since the snow storm of a few weeks ago and was anxious to see how much damage was done. The stream holds both wild browns and brookies, and the browns predominate. As I walked into the stream the damage was easy to see. Trees and limbs scattered about, some of them very large.
Upon reaching the stream I observed some of the better pools had completely changed, and the familiar runs were gone. I said to myself I have a new stream to explore, and proceeded to do so.
The first fly I chose was a Bomber dry, this is a fly that always worked here even this late in the season. Well I gave this fly all the time it needed to bring a trout to the surface, and that did not happen. I changed to a Picket Pin wet and this produced one bump. This was going to be one of those days where I was going to do some hard walking and enjoying the stream and the woods. I say this because the flies that would have been a good bet,streamers, were in a box at home.
Looking at the choices I had I tied on a worm like, caddis like, I guess a bug that looked like it had a chance to fool one or two fish. The second drift as the fly started to sink the trout hit, and hit hard. A very respectable battle took place, and the TFO 2wt was tested and did its job. I held the brown, took a photo and sent it off, it was gone in a heartbeat.

As the day went on, I learned where the new trout lies where and had a wonderful day.

These were the flies that worked so well. Also a longer version with peacock tied in as legs. It was centipede like. I don't have a photo of it for I lost it, along with the three other flies. I'll tie a few up and post them later.

This was a good pool.

Beautiful wild browns. Nicely spotted and very aggressive.

You can see the other fly in the browns mouth.

This was a part of the stream that was so beautiful and peaceful. While taking in the view I was startled when a wind gust brought down a large branch.

Thanks friends.

Excitement, and The Golden Badger

This is a post about several exciting happenings that took place a day or so ago. The first was a visit I paid to a stream, a small one that holds wild brookies. This stream last year at this time was very low, with stream temps that made it not fish able. This summer up to this point has been a bit more generous in the rain fall, being slightly better. And although we have had some very hot days I don't believe it was as bad as last summer.

Upon arriving at the stream I could see that the flows were OK, and the dark leaf canopy was doing its part to keep things cool. The water was very clear and after a few steps I startled many trout, sending them for cover. As I walked along the banks I dropped my thermometer into the water, its readings were another exciting happening of the day..... 64 degrees. I continued to check the temps as I fished this little stream and the temps were consistent.

I tied on a mayfly pattern I had tied the day before, a lovely fly that was tied with some badger hackle that had been dyed gold. As I sent the fly along a riffled run, I was hoping for a rise from a brookie. This being a small stream the response comes quick, and is generally not repeated... I just gave away my position the trout would say. The rise came after a few drifts, and the brookie was on...off in a few seconds. While this happened more than normal, it did not frustrate me, I was excited that the fly was doing its part.

I am very familiar with these waters and over many years I have taken lots of brookies here. They are all wild fish. On a few outings, I could count them on one hand I have taken wild browns. These few browns were in the 10 to 12 inch range, very robust fish. This was the most exciting part of this outing. Along a very dark deep run, that swept the water into a undercut, the mayfly was molested by a flash of silver, in a moment a beautiful little wild brown was in hand. I took a quick photo, and released the wonderful wild fish back into the stream. Off it went, disappearing back into the undercut. I stopped to think about just what happened. A trout of this size, had to begin its life in this stream.
Perhaps at the start of this outing I had hopes for a different result in the maiden outing of this little mayfly. But upon holding that little wild brown, I realized my hopes were fulfilled.

Clear, and cool. The woody debris, the stones, and the leaf canopy, all doing there part.

The gold badger hackled mayfly.

The wild beauty of this beautifully spotted, red adipose fin little brown capped the excitement of a few hours on this little stream.





When I got home that afternoon I found this waiting. My son had made this pizza.
Fresh native tomatoes, broccoli, grilled chicken, and fresh mozzarella.
Talk about exciting...

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