Central Oregon’s Metolius River takes pride in humbling anglers on a daily basis. The Metolius is a gin-clear, spring fed river that possesses few of the characteristics of a typical spring river. Rarely is it still or meandering; it chugs and churns and cascades its way East toward Lake Billy Chinook at a staggering pace, quickly getting bigger and wider and faster the further you go downstream from its stunning headwaters at the base of Black Butte.
The Metolius is all about your mindset. You don’t really go there to catch fish, but instead to enjoy a day on a magnificent river with gorgeous, crystal clear water at your feet and old growth ponderosa pine trees one hundred feet above your favorite fishing hat. That’s not to say there aren’t fish to be caught– wild rainbow trout, the prettiest you’ve ever seen, swim in these waters and are only fooled by light tippet and flawless presentation. Boasting far less fish per mile than rivers of similar size, the Metolius does not give up its bounty easily. When you do manage to catch a few fish on this river, it makes all of the previous days of no avail completely worthwhile.
June can be special on the Metolius. While we are getting closer and closer, summer hasn’t truly taken hold yet. In no time blue skies and temperatures in the nineties will be the norm. But June still clings to spring tightly and often refuses to let go until we close in on July. That means we still get a bit of rain, cloudy skies, and plenty of fish on dry flies.
Caddisflies, mayflies, stoneflies, you name it. They can all be hatching at once in great numbers on this bug-factory of a river. At the bottom of a pool you may find a fish feasting on small, olive caddis but at the top you could find a fish who wont touch anything but a Size 18 Pale Morning Dun. The Metolius is cool like that. What you really hope for on a cloudy day are the Green Drakes, the king of mayflies, to make an appearance. That’s exactly what my closest fishing pal and I were after a few days ago. Pick an overcast day, have a box full of dry flies and a few green drake patterns at the ready and when 3pm rolls around, it just might go off.
We were lucky enough to have it happen. Within minutes, as if someone had flipped a switch, there were hundreds of colossal green bugs fluttering gracefully around our heads and over the mysterious, dark blue surface of the water. Each insect in a biological race against time to mate and lay its eggs before an opportunistic fish makes it its lunch. We stood with our mouths agape as Green Drake after Green Drake vulnerably floated down a deep run only to be intercepted by a splash and the deep red stripe of a wild rainbow trout. For the next few hours the two of us passed one fly rod back and forth and laughed simply out of joy for the moment we were living in. Its days like these that remind us of how fortunate we are to live in the places we do, and how nothing brings us happiness like the rivers we love.