According to Gary Williams, local legend Jim Lucky who has fished and appreciated the McKenzie River for over 50 years gets credit for the Lucky Strike Pattern.
This is a great year-round searching fly. Tie it in a bunch of sizes from 10-16. Low-riding, high-vis trout fly with peacock and moose — it doesn’t get much fishier.
Lucky Strike
Hook: TMC 100 size 10-16
Thread: 8/0 Gray unithread
Tail: Moose body hair
Parachute: Deer or elk hair
Body: Peacock herl
Hackle: Cree or variant saddle
Next month, the breast cancer awareness and support group Casting for Recovery is hosting the Confluence Films newest feature Rise at the David Minor Theater. For those of you unaware of CFR, here is a rundown of their work:
Casting for Recovery, founded in 1996, is a national non-profit support and educational program for breast cancer survivors. We enhance the lives of breast cancer survivors by offering no-cost retreats tailored to promote and support mental and physical healing through shared experiences and the learning of new skills. At the end of 2008 we have served 3,500 women through the delivery of 269 retreats, helped by over 1,000 volunteers nationwide.
Through 2½-day retreats, the sport of fly-fishing is used to promote physical, emotional, and spiritual healing. The effective balance between the physical benefits of the gentle exercise provided by fly-fishing and the counseling curriculum benefits women at any age and any stage of treatment or recovery. The program allows women to get away from their cancer, while providing support from the medical/psychosocial professionals present at every retreat.
Eugene’s women’s fly fishing club The Damselflies will be coordinating the event and all of the funds raised will fund the Southern Oregon Casting for Recovery Retreat held each year at the Big K Ranch in Elkton Oregon. As part of the fund raising effort, Kathy McCartney has built a beautiful and functional fly storage and display box and we need your help filling it!
Bring or mail your flies to the Caddis Fly Shop to help fill this box that will be raffled off. Please leave your name and address w/ your flies.
The movie will be December 10th at the David Minor Theater (across from Steelhead Brewery in Eugene) with 2 showings.
Tickets will go on sale next week.
Women on the Fly and friends raise money each year to fund the 3 day retreat for 14 Oregon women who have experienced of breast cancer. For a breast cancer survivor to apply for the retreat, visit info@castingforrecovery.org to fill out the application. Selections from the applicants are chosen randomly. To make a tax-deductible donation there will be brochures available with the information in the lobby at the David Minor Theater or send your check to Casting for Recovery, Southern Oregon Retreat, PO Box 1123, Manchester Vermont, 05254. Any amount is appreciated.
This is the seventh installment of The Fly Fishers Glossary: Snippets From the Underbelly of Fly Fishing, Fly Tying, Fish Biology, Dusty old Facts, Hallucinations, and the Plain Truth as I know it, by Jay Nicholas.
Dollie
Formerly, a Dollie (sometimes Dolly) was an undesirable but rare trash fish detested because they gobbled up hatchery trout on the Metolius. Now, these have been taxonomically reclassified as Bull Trout, the non-anadromous form of this species of char. As neither salmon or steelhead, this is still a undesirable fish. However, the large size of Bull Trout in the Metolius makes them a target for ego-driven individuals who fish for them selectively with twenty-two inch bunny Leeches and 8/0 hooks. A twenty-pound Bull Trout fights for about three seconds and then lays there like a burlap sack.
Double Haul
The practice of buying so much stuff at the Caddis Fly that it takes two trips from the truck to the house where one hides the stuff before one’s wife/girlfriend gets home. Thus, “I made a double haul at the Caddis Fly today”.
Alternate
The practice of stacking or nesting two drift or more boats on one trailer to haul over to the Deschutes in order to save gas. See also, cost of replacing transmission, ruptured vertebrae, and warped brake calipers.
Alternate
Running a double drift from Cedar Creek to Memaloose twice in one day. Rob, you ‘da man.
Dr. Slick
Talk about slick. This is a brand of fly tying and fly fishing tools that is a fine example of marketing genius. Back in the old days, we had a pair of scissors, and maybe a pair of pliers. Not now. No sirree. Thanks to geniuses like Dr. Slick we have at least a hundred different types of fly tying scissors. Then there are the pliers, hemostats scissor-hemostats, de-barb Pliers/cutters, S-side clamp/cutter, and surgical steel tools. Egads, no wonder I buy so dang much stuff. The choices never end, and there is always an option to upgrade at the dawn of each new season.
Drift Boat
A device designed to occupy space in a garage, excluding any possibility of parking a car in its proper place. Also, a cause of premature deterioration of rubber seals, blistered paint, and pervasive rust inflicted on fifty-thousand dollar SUVs that are constantly exposed to the weather as a consequence of being parked outside the garage. Drift boats are most commonly used to store broken lawnmowers, junk that should have been thrown away eight years ago, toxic yard chemicals, and refrigerator-sized cardboard boxes that might prove useful sometime in the next decade.
Drive-by
This is a term means that an angler felt a Salmon rub his line or leader. See also line-rub. Drive-bys are very exciting to salmon anglers because it indicates that a) salmon are present and b) their lines are at the correct depth.
Unfortunately, Pogies are skilled in the art of simulating the genuine drive-by and drive-bys are also exactly like the feeling created by hooking a beaver stick, otter, water ouzel, bald eagle, or underwater volcano.
The most crafty salmon fishers are loathe to divulge that they have had drive-bys, even when they are so forceful as to have nearly jerked their arms out of their sockets. These sly dogs keep their eyes on the rod tips, often submerging the tip a few inches underwater so as to obfuscate drive-by detection. As skilled as a drive-by recipient may be at concealing their emotional response via body language, their pupils ALWAYS dilate, indicating a heightened response to the drive-by. This is what every experienced angler in the hog line is trying to detect.
Dry fly
This is a nonsensical term applied to a fly that is intended to stay “Dry” and float on the surface of the water, thus imitating a mature insect. Any fly fisher knows that this is not the way flies behave. First and foremost, a fly can only stay dry just so long as the angler does not cast it upon the waters, at which time it becomes wet, and therefore, not a dry fly. Second, it is common knowledge that all commercially tied “Dry flies” are constructed with materials like tungsten, titanium, and lead boat anchors, thereby limiting the amount of time the fly will stay on the water’s surface to about three microseconds. “Wet flies”, in contrast, are typically tied with water-repellant materials and balsa wood hooks, thereby making them extremely difficult to submerge beneath the water’s surface. Both of these fly construction practices are another ploy to sell more gizmos to the fly angler consumer. Specifically, all sorts of fly poo is marketed with claims that it will either float or sink the consumer’s fly, depending on said angler’s wishes. In practice, however, the product usually leaks into the angler’s pockets, making an unattractive stain that usually corresponds with said angler’s crotch, implying peeing in one’s pants. These fly poo mixtures are basically a derivative of bacon grease, scented with Old Spice and English Leather aftershave.
Dumbbell eyes
The look on the face of any fly angler as he or she walks through the door of their independently owned fly shop. Dumbbell eyes: that’s the only way to describe it folks. They find themselves surrounded by the most marvelous and innovative products and fly tying materials imaginable. There is tackle designed specifically for every species of fish in the world. There are gizmos, price-point rods, and all the latest and greatest doo-dads that we simply must have to live.
Alternate
Dumbell or hourglass eyes are a fly tying product lashed onto a fly hook and intended to create the illusion of eyes on some sort of fish food. Dumbell eyes could be made of brass, nickel, aluminum, bead chain, plastic, titanium, lead, or depleted uranium retrieved from Iraqi WMDs. The use of different materials and sizes has something complicated to do with sink rates. Predatory fish, purportedly, bite flies with dumbbell eyes more frequently than flies without, because the eyes trigger their natural feeding instinct. Apparently, predaceous fish eat fish eyes. Some fly tyers claim that bigger eyes trigger more bites from bigger fish. This claim has led to marketing of dumbbell eyes about the size of a two bowling balls. Ridiculous, but true.
Eagle Claw Fly Hooks
Obsolete fly tying material. For steelhead and Sea-run Cutthroat flies, the Eagle Claw #3906 hook was more commonly used than the Mustad #36890. These #3906s were down-eye, heavy-wire sproat-bend hooks that a bizilion flies were dressed on for decades. The hooks were produced in bronze (3906-B), nickel (3906-N) and gold (3906-G). Less expensive than the up-eye, Japan-black Mustad steelhead/salmon hook, these babies were our go-to hooks.
e-Bay
Internet-based site that provides an opportunity for unscrupulous people to sell crappy junk (i.e., tackle that they hated and will never use).
Alternate
A place to get a great deal on tackle you’ll hate, because it isn’t what you need like for example a two-piece, 18’, 10-wt, Loomis Spey rod. Note; cheap-ass fly fisher’s buy stuff on e-bay and then try to get local-area Fly Shops to teach them how to use it or obtain warranty service when the product doesn’t work.
Alternate
E-bay provides an opportunity for wives/girlfriends to sell a fly fisher’s stuff during an extended absence on a fishing trip. Our women have figured out that three, $900 Spey rods will finance one pedicure, a Grande-half decaff-skinny-caramel-with-whipped-Macchiato, and a month subscription to an on-line dating service. See also Craigslist.
Eagle Claw Fly Rod
Obsolete Fly Fishing Product. These fly rods were invented by Aliens over ten Millennia ago and first used to fly fish the Nile River in Egypt. Eagle Claw Fly rods reigned supreme until the mid 1970s when the Fenwick Feralite fly Rod was introduced to provide a technological bridge to the thousand-dollar junk rods we fish today.
Elephant Clippers
These are actually a special variation on nippers, but this pure is marketing genius deserves special notice. Not satisfied with naming a pair of nippers something ordinary and expected like super jumbo nippers, the clever marketer coined this reference to elephants. Wow, who can possibly resist buying a dozen of these beauties? Warning: do not, under any circumstances whatsoever, attempt to clip an elephant’s anything with these clippers. Not smart.
Elmer Fudd Hat
One of the dorkiest hats ever designed by Simms. That said, I bought this winter hat and love it! It is waterproof, has a bill to keep sun out of my eyes, flaps keep ears warm, and I am a dork anyway so who cares?
-JN
Not many tickets left down at the shop for tonight’s showing of Where Hope Resides at the David Minor Theater at 6:30pm.
Tix are $10 and the proceeds go to the guys from JahTrout who’re taking their fish conservation message on the road for an Oregon tour. For more on the film, check out our Q&A with Boots Allen, Where Hope Resides producer. There are literally just a handful of tix left, so get down to the shop and grab ’em up, come on out to the David Minor Theater, where you can TEXT A BEER FROM YOUR SEAT!
-MS
This is the sixth installment of The Fly Fishers Glossary: Snippets From the Underbelly of Fly Fishing, Fly Tying, Fish Biology, Dusty old Facts, Hallucinations, and the Plain Truth as I know it, by Jay Nicholas.
Chuck
Archaic term meaning to cast a fly, as in, “Chuck it out there Dude”. “Chuck” is a synonym for huck, pitch, wing, and wang.
Modern fly fishing terminology has replaced these terms with techno-weenie designer names applied to various cast-forms. Examples include the Snap-T, the Double Spey, the Snake Roll, the Perry Poke, the Wombat, and the Bloody-L. As is usual in the Fly Fishing Industry, all of these newfangled casts are merely a device to increase sales of DVDs and attendance at casting clinics and all of these fancy new casts are really a version of the antiquated “Chuck” cast.
Alternate
Chuck is the fellow retained by wise fly anglers to keep an eye on their magnetic rod holders while they scout for steelhead from the North Umpqua Highway. The retainer fee for Chuck’s service ranges from two-bits if you drive a 1962, un-restored Volkswagen Bug, to a hundred-bucks if you drive a Land Rover. Chuck will pay you fifty bucks if you let him drive your Cadillac Escalade up to the store at Diamond Lake to buy an ice-cream bar.
Crushing
This is a versatile term is used to assign a relatively high level of impact as in, “the guys are crushing the Silvers offshore”. One could refer to collectively “Crushing” a boat-load of fish. One fish, on the other hand, can deliver a “Crushing” grab. Ten-thousand bucks invested in a trip to New Jersey to fish for mercury-tainted, tight-lipped, hatchery-bred salmon is guaranteed to produce a “Crushing” disappointment.
Alternates
Crush
As in, “I’m gonna “Crush” the next jet-boat guide who drops a client in front of me in this run”.
“Dude, get over your ‘Crush”, she’s a waitress, this is Anchorage, and you’ve got a girlfriend/wife back home”.
Crushed
As in, “George just crushed us. His casts were so awesome with that new Q-axis 12189-4 Boronic Spey rod. We didn’t stand a chance. He was fishing two pools ahead of us and we were just peeing in our waders”.
Cul de Canard
Get this. This is how creative the slick suits in the fly fishing industry are. This is a fly tying material that is, quite literally, from the butt of a duck. These are the fluffy little downy feathers that ring the duck’s butt-orifice. That’s right folks. Give me a break. How far will marketers go to make a buck? These silly feathers make one hell of a messy looking fly but there have now been tons of books and articles written about how wonderful this material is and how any fly made from the material will out-fish the pants off anything ever fished before. They tie dry flies with this junk. They tie wet flies with the stuff. They tie nymphs with it.
What a bunch of nonsense. I could spray WD-40 on belly button lint and tie a fly that looks at least as good as a fly tied with duck whatever feathers and it will probably work just as well too. And then I could give it a fancy name like “lint de bell budon” and charge a bundle for it.
Thank God that, so far, steelhead and salmon flies still have a little self respect as a consequence of having not been contaminated with these duck-butt feathers.
Dark salmon, steelhead
This term is routinely used to describe salmon caught by other anglers, as in, “Like Dude, this other guy, he caught a dark fish but I released a chromer”. In this context, the term dark refers to an advanced state of sexual maturity and the corresponding hormonal, pigmentation, and body shape changes that accompany these maturational states by salmonids. It is understood that 99% of fly anglers fishing alone do not, ever, catch dark salmon or steelhead. Just doesn’t happen.
Deceiver
Any salmon or steelhead flyfisher, when asked to divulge details of a recent successful fishing adventure to local waters is, or will soon be, a deceiver. Recent means anytime in the last ten years. Successful means having felt at least one pull. Local waters is defined as anyplace within hitch-hiking distance.
Alternate
A fly pattern claimed by Lefty Kreigh. Now fancy that. Even the name Lefty sounds a little shifty doesn’t it? These flies are killer saltwater patterns and a must-carry for anyone who wants to have a virtually successful trip to the tropics. And please, people, don’t let my sarcasm detract from the likelihood that this is indeed an original pattern of Lefty. I just wish I had invented the damn thing. But then I might be known as Rightie.
Deschutes
A river located in the State of California. The Deschutes supports one of the most abundant fly angler hatches between Warm Springs and Maupin during the month of June. Adhering to biological axioms, when the carrying capacity of the Deschutes is exceeded, surplus angler production is compensated by White Horse Rapids, where they are converted into Buzzard and stonefly nymph food.
A potentially great but thus-far undiscovered fly fishery on the Deschutes lies in the river below Maupin, where tens of thousands of summer steelhead lay in wait for a fly to clobber. Only three guide-parties and seven individual fly fishers, heading for the North Umpqua, got hopelessly lost and wound up fishing the lower Deschutes for summer steelhead during 2008. These lucky anglers found a natural paradise where they cast over marauding schools of steelhead every evening in perfect, windless fly fishing conditions. Two Sierra Club interns on a bird-watching excursion stopped to offer gourmet snacks and wine to these lucky fly anglers, who gracefully accepted. These flyfishers found that cleated wading shoes and Spey rods were unnecessary on the Deschutes, as wading was safe on fine-pebbled gravel bars and casts of only thirty feet were sufficient to reach the best steelhead lies.
Dead Beat
Any fly fisher.
Alternate
A special application of the term beat. English fly fishing tradition refers to a section of river where an angler pays a fee for exclusive fishing access. A dead beat is a section of river where an angler has paid an exorbitant sum of money to gain exclusive access to water that contains no trout, salmon or steelhead whatsoever.
Dead Drift
A technique of presenting a fly in a manner that it drifts at “exactly” the same speed of the current. This is impossible, but the myth of a “Dead-Drift” presentation is so attractive that it is inextinguishable. This persistent drive to achieve a dead draft has led to the development of a variety of arcane, hilarious, and largely un-executable casts (e.g., the S – cast; Waggle cast; Reach cast; Drop cast; Left- and Right-hand curve cast; and the 30-foot-leader-with-an-8x-tippet cast).
Alternate
Any water currently being fished for steelhead, especially if located on the North Umpqua, is most often a dead drift, meaning there are no living steelhead anywhere near the angler’s fly.
Dead Drift Nymphing
A method of fly fishing entirely justified when fishing for trout and carp, but which is considered unscrupulous and unethical if employed while fishing for steelhead. See also “Unsavory Behaviors”. Dead drift nymphing usually employs some sort of strike indicator or Thingmabobber and delivers one or more flies to the fish underwater. When the indicator-bobber goes down it might be a fish. More likely it is the bottom. Professional Guides use this angling method as a clever ploy to convince clients that they had a chance to catch hundreds of trout or dozens of steelhead, if only they had set the hook more quickly, or by moving the rod horizontally downstream instead of lifting the rod upstream (which is instinctive).
An indicator – free method of dead-drift nymphing is referred to as “High-Sticking”. Approximately six hundred-and-thirty-three articles on High-Stick-nymphing were published in flyfishing magazines during 2008. See also “High Sticking”. The actual number of fly fishers practicing high-stick nymphing was about nine, and they were all fishing Great Lakes tributaries.
-JN
Introduction
A Journal should begin at the beginning, I suppose. This Journal doesn’t, so the reader will need to figure out what comes first, what follows what, and sometimes, how everything is connected.
I don’t keep a daily Journal. Some fly fishers do, I’ve heard, recording information like water temperature, hydrograph trend, barometric pressure, wind direction, water clarity, how much Jack Daniels they drank the previous evening, and all sorts of drivel. Then they diligently record how many fish they caught, flies used, and so on.
The goal, it seems, is to discover correlations among these variables, correlations that explain fish behavior in relation to environmental conditions. I tried this a few times and found I had no interest in the practice of daily journaling of fishing data. I finally let go of the idea that I should journal in the same way others have.
Part of my departure from preconceived journaling models came as a consequence of two key revelations.
First, I realized that I’m usually too tired at the end of a dawn-to-dark day on the water to write anything down. This matter, I decided, could be resolved by writing a retrospective Journal. I decided it was OK to be journally obsessed on my own schedule.
Second, I didn’t want to produce a Journal laced with foul language. Sentences like “this fellow was one of the less liked characters in the group”, could be interpreted as “like dude, this (censored) (censored) was real sickness, and more than one of our (censored) was thinking about (censored) (censored) ways to kick his (censored) (censored) with titanium cleats”.
See the elegance of this solution? I could now journal in a manner consistent with my own good character while simultaneously allowing for liberal interpretation by individual readers, providing cognitive acceptance consistent with the secret dark musings of many fly fishers.
First Journal Entry: Coastal Quest 2009 – day 3 of 7
I’m walking down the beach at six AM. Two pickups pass me in darkness. I walk near surf seeking not-too-soft sand. Start on East side of lagoon. Twenty guys have claim staked before I can see without a flashlight. Anchovies, shrimp, spinners and flies. Wedge between four fly guys I see every year. Nice people.
Day brightens. Chat. No one catches anything. Feel line rub in close, scales on hook. Spinner guys land two fish. Not the chrome I’m seeking, but they whack ‘em and stash ‘em on the bank behind driftwood and tackle. Chinook are rolling everywhere. A Jack eats a shrimp on a bobber 100 yards downriver, pulled unceremoniously ashore and whacked.
Wade upriver to fish gravel bar where I see people gathered. Fish are close. Spoon-guy fouls seven in a row with a siwash hook. Older guy. Just wants to catch a salmon. Invites me to move close to cast. I do – but no grabs.
Trudge down to the ocean. More bronze fish lay on the bank, no chromers, none behind the fly-guys. Fished surf two hours. Ineffective. Waste of time. “Use a Type IV,” Steve told me. Bah. No line would have made sense in messy surf today. Where are the schools of 400+ kings cruising at the river mouth? Saw only one chrome fish try to enter river. Seals working rip at mouth.
Barrett and Rob arrive mid-afternoon. Smiles, hugs, stories about no grabs and where fish are holed up in un-fishable places. We concentrate on west-side. Barrett gets grabbed and comes up empty. Rob gets followed twice. I get grabbed; we all see fish and head-shake, then nothing. Sadness.
Rob walks over and says, “pick out a fly for me.” I point at a onesy in his box, Barrett agrees, and Rob ties it on. Very first cast, he gets grabbed. We all see fish boil up and shake. Many photos later, a nice hatchery fish slides onto sand.
We fish on. People give up and haul plastic shopping bags and Igloo coolers to pickups. Daylight is waning. Cast and cast. Change line, change fly, adjust retrieve, move around. I see a fish boil and cast. There’s the grab, head-shake, and blistering run. Ooops – slack line. Loop knot severed by bead chain eyes. Dang. Double dang.
Six-thirty, too late to continue fishing now. Trudge across river with Barrett & Rob. “Want these eggs?” Rob asks gear-guy getting ready to mount dirt bike. “Yeah, thanks,” bike-guy says, and roars off into the gathering dark. I’m grateful for ride up the beach. Twelve fish checked all day for over 60 rods. Two-thirds were copper.
Microwave dinner from Ray’s Food Palace. Barely edible. Don’t care. Finish with Bunny grahams and granola. Call Rob and Matt. Send them anywhere but here. Call Ed – ditto. Dead tired. Hurt all over.
My conversation with Nate is short; he recognizes my exhaustion. Prototype Burkheimer two-hand rod shipped from factory today. Will arrive at Motel tomorrow. Set alarm for 4:30. Pack Odwalla bars. Water. Waders. Two rods. Fifty-seven lines. Two thousand flies.
I’m stubborn beyond reason. Sleep in three poly shirts (again) to counter day’s lingering coldness. Wake in middle of night. Something smells like nasty old socks. It’s my right arm. Oh yeah, I did hug a salmon last week. Drink water. Try to hydrate. Go back to sleep for awhile. Why do I stay here? Hope? Intuition? Salmon obsession?
JN
Fly fishing blog monsters Moldy Chum launched an online poll recently asking how much anglers in Washington state value wild steelhead as opposed to hatchery-reared fish. Per the Chum’s press release:
“We’d like to demonstrate to the state just how important wild fish are to those of us who spend time chasing these magnificent fish,” said Eric Rathbun, chief editor of Moldy Chum and founder of Reel Pure Inc. “I can’t speak for everyone who fly fishes for steelhead, but catching a wild fish is a unique experience, and one that I certainly prefer.”
The three-question poll will remain live for about a month. The data, non-scientific though it may be, will be provided to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife.
“We’d like to find out just how important the experience of catching a wild steelhead is to the recreational angler in Washington,” said Rob Masonis, vice president of Western Conservation for Trout Unlimited, the nation’s leading advocacy group for coldwater fisheries conservation. TU has thousands of members in Washington state, and is interested in seeing where its members, and the angling community as a whole, stand on this important issue. “From a conservation standpoint, we worry that hatchery fish are diluting wild stocks and reducing the hearty nature of steelhead in the Northwest. But we recognize the overall importance of steelhead to the recreational angler. I guess it boils down to a simple question: would you rather catch a wild fish or a hatchery fish?”
Go on over and take the Chum’s poll, and if enough Oregonians help ’em out, we might be able to twist their arms to do a poll for us and ODFW.
-MS
Jeff Hickman is hosting a showing of Where Hope Resides Tues 11/10/09 at 6:30pm at Jeff’s office (1821 SE Ankeny St, PDX). The event is partnered with Sierra Club, Native Fish Society and Kaufmann Streamborn. $10, FREE BEER and snacks!!!!
For Eugeneans, come check out our showing Thurs night.
-MS
Trout Creek to Harpham Flat, Nov 5-7: Eight of us set out last week from Eugene to the high desert to chase steelhead on the Deschutes River. Ethan Nickel Outfitters ran the program to celebrate the end of the ‘09 guide season and we came along for the ride, enjoying Ethan and Kyle Duke’s hard-won fishing knowledge and camping skills.
The first day we put in at Trout Creek and moved quickly downstream. We had great weather and seemed to have the whole river to ourselves.
We spread out and picked a few likely spots to fish before Whitehorse rapid. I picked up my first Deschutes steelhead that morning, swinging a black palmered marabou fly (patterned after the George Cook Alaskabou series) on a big Alec Jackson hook. I lost that fly soon after that and didn’t have anything else exactly like it.
Not that it mattered a whole lot. The main requisites for Deschutes steelhead flies that week were that they be a little heavy, dark, and wiggle a lot. I had a handful of flies in different patterns that fit that bill. Unfortunately, I’d been tying so many different styles and types of flies for this trip that I only had a few of any one pattern, so when something worked it was a real pain to lose that fly.
I’d been working a lot with marabou lately. While not typically my favorite material, every once in a while it looks amazing in the water. Other times it has about the same action as a pencil eraser.
Rob Russell had been mentally preparing run Whitehorse rapid all day. He hadn’t run it in 20 years, and the last time he’d sunk a raft. This time we made it through without getting a drop of water in the boat
The days are short and we wound up at camp soon after. That night at camp a hellacious wind storm blew through the canyon and I was sure we were going to lose the pavilion tent.
The next morning we set off and I hooked three steelhead on a single run. Then Rob and I moved down to another run and hooked a couple more and saw dozens of big fish. We thought we were going to be into the action all day. Little did we know that we were blowing past the only big concentration of fish we’d see all trip. The rest of the fish we hooked were spread out few and far between.
Luckily, I’d hooked enough fish to have a lot of confidence in my steelhead presentation. Maybe for the first time ever. And I started to feel that shift. I’ll always love trout: slurping, hungry, tuggy little torpedoes. But something about the first headshake on a steelhead that everybody talks about… The fact that each of these wild fish is a globetrotting, nutrient-replenishing, ocean-fattened goddamn ecological miracle just makes my head spin.
And I just caught enough of them this weekend to actually start think I can get them to bite with some regularity (as in more than like once a year). Not that I understand why they bite or don’t. That’s the madness that keeps grown and serious men awake at night, writing to zoological societies to beg for discarded feathers from exotic birds, wrecking marriages and careers.
More photos below, including a big beautiful hatchery buck I clubbed in defense of wild fish. He’ll taste righteous after the smoker has its way with him.
-MS
Wednesday night, November 11th steelhead book author John Larison will be signing books at the Caddis Fly Shop from 3:30 to 5pm.
John will also be presenting at the McKenzie Upper-Willamette Chapter of Trout Unlimited’s meeting that night at 7pm at the Eagles Aerie, 1375 Irving Rd. in Eugene. John’s presentation will be on successful winter steelheading tactics and the public is welcome. We’ll also be discussing our efforts to reduce or remove hatchery trout on the McKenzie River.
Then Thursday night 11/12, come to the David Minor Theater to see the new film Where Hope Resides at 6:30pm. We expect this movie to sell out this week, so pick up your tickets at the shop ASAP. This gorgeous new film is about salmon and steelhead conservation issues in British Columbia’s Skeena River system. Join filmmakers, Boots Allen and Jason Sutton at the event.
Mid October brought some fine fall weather from Trout Creek to Harpham.
This Fall trip was special, I brought along my son a recent U of O grad. His first overnight trip was age 8. He’s older now and much stronger or simply stated: less boat bags to haul, less rowing, and more camp help!
After a few pointers from someone who had a bit more Deschutes experience, he seemed to get the hang of it:
Whitehorse always provides those “pucker moments in time” but we all safely passed and headed down river. It’s always about the knuckles: stay too far left your headed for the can opener, stay too far right, and your boat becomes an aluminum bell chime.
Bottom line a great fall trip and a very special time.
LV
For our next Hareline Dubbin fly tying contest, we’re looking for your best original patterns using Unibobbers.
Contest rules are the same as last time. We want to see your best Unibobber pattern, either an original or your own spin on a classic. Fly Tying Unibobbers are sure to keep your fly floating. We have used them as parachute posts with great success. See Barrett’s Unibobber example pattern.
RULES
Come by the shop and pick up your free Unibobbers. Email Chris with your address if you’re from out of town and we’ll mail you your Unibobbers. Drop off two finished flies at The Caddis Fly Shop, along with paperwork that includes the fly pattern name, material list, your name and address, and either email or phone number for contact. You will not get the flies back — one will go to Hareline and one will go to the shop. Bob Borden and the folks from Hareline Dubbin will be judge of the fly patterns.
If you are not local, please send your flies in the mail to the shop.
PRIZES
First prize is a new StonFo C-clamp fly tying vise. Second prize is a Dr. Slick fly tying tool kit. And third prize is a Dr. Slick scissor pack.
Turn these in by Dec 10th. to be eligible.
Reform of the 1872 Mining Law has been on the agenda of every major conservation organization for years, and it looks like the issue is finally coming to a head. For those of you unaware of the 1872 Mining Law, here is a summary from TU’s Web site.
The General Mining Law of 1872 was passed at a time when conquering the western wilderness was our primary goal. To do this, our visionary lawmakers at the time, decided they should give away minerals on our public lands and the land itself to miners to foster development of the new frontier, allow miners to pillage many thousands of acres, take the gold, silver and other minerals, and pay nothing for them–and with no requirement to clean up the mess, reclaim the landscape, close the roads, or keep acid mine waste from killing watersheds.
A group of conservation organizations, including NWF, the Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership and Trout Unlimited have formed a partnership, Sportsmen United for Sensible Mining, to help guide outdoor sports enthusiasts in the effort to reform the law.
There are complementary House HR 699 and Senate S 796 bills introduced to Congress. And Obama’s Secretary of the Interior Ken Salazar has testified in favor of 1872 mining law reform.
Oregon’s congressional delegation has been active in this legislation, as the Senate bill is co-sponsored by Ron Wyden and the House bill is co-sponsored by Earl Blumenauer and David Wu. The big hurdle has historically been mining industry shill, Democratic Majority Leader Harry Reid, but we doubt Reid will be able to hold this back much longer.
The Teddy Roosevelt Conservation Partnership folks have an action campaign to email your Senators in favor of S796.
From TRCP: Senate Bill 796 takes a judicious approach to updating the 1872 Mining Law – an approach that sportsmen can confidently support. The legislation would eliminate the sale of public lands to mining companies. It would allow federal agencies to do their jobs by directing the BLM and Forest Service to review “high value” lands for possible withdrawal from minerals development. It would establish royalties of between 2 and 5 percent on new mines located on public lands. Just like other industries that operate on public lands, the mining industry would be required to pay a reasonable fee for the multi-billion-dollar resources that are owned by American citizens. Finally, S. 796 would institute a reclamation fee to help restore the thousands of abandoned mines that are scattered across our landscapes.
-MS
John Larison’s The Complete Steelheader has changed the way I fish more than any other book I’ve read. There are lots of other books out there that have had an effect on my life, fishing philosophy, etc. But no other book actually changed the way I approach the mechanics of the sport. I think this book had the impact it did because it was written exactly for me — the trout guy who only catches a few steelhead a year because he’s fishing for them like trout. In modern steelhead books, I consider this book to be among the big three: Trey Combs’ Steelhead Fly Fishing and Dec Hogan’s A Passion for Steelhead.
Below is an interview with the author of The Complete Steelheader and the new novel, Northwest of Normal. Be sure to stop by the shop on Wed. November 11th when Larison will be on hand to sign books at the Caddis Fly Shop. He will also be presenting at the McKenzie Upper-Willamette Chapter of Trout Unlimited’s meeting Wed 11/11 at 7pm at the Eagles Aerie, 1375 Irving Rd. in Eugene. John’s presentation will be on successful winter steelheading tactics and the public is welcome.
MS: You did exactly what you set out to do in the intro — you wrote a book that will help the average steelhead fly fisherman catch more fish. But based on what I know about steelheaders, you shouldn’t want that to happen. So why did you write such a great book?
JL: When I was guiding, I was constantly meeting competent and good-hearted trout anglers who complained about steelhead. “They’re so damn picky.” Or “Why would I go stand in the rain all day when I know I’m not going to catch anything?” These were people with time and money, folks with that compelling urge to protect watersheds and fish. But they weren’t doing much to help steelhead. They didn’t know much about the modern threats to steelhead. They just hadn’t touched enough chrome to become enchanted with it, to see that when we help steelhead, we help all native fish. Which got me thinking: how many other anglers are out there like this? I assumed a lot. And I assumed that these folks weren’t catching steelhead because they were fishing like the revered “old books” taught us too–using one or two techniques and conventional flies.
Steelheading used to be easy. When wild fish filled each run, an angler could swing small flies near the top and catch plenty of fish. Here’s how I think of it: Of every 100 freshly returned steelhead, let’s say 10 will strike a small fly near the surface. 5 of those and another 10 will strike a big fly swung low. 10 of those and another 20 will strike a dead-drifted egg or stonefly or whatever. (Of course this oversimplifies the equation–some conditions make fish ignore some presentations and smash others–but the point remains). When a guy could fish a dozen runs in a day and show his goods to two-hundred fish, he could catch steelhead doing just about anything he wanted. But now, as our fish counts spiral the drain, that same guy covering those same dozen runs might show his goods to 10 fish–if he’s going to consistently hook steelies, he has to work harder. And he’s got to experiment. The anglers I know who average a fish or two a trip all year are doing just this, they are fishing three or four or five presentations, big flies and little flies, skated flies and dead-drifted flies, all of it.
I figured if the clients I met while guiding were going to become advocates for steelhead, they had to start catching fish, and if they were going to consistently catch fish in these troubled times, they probably needed some guidance written for these troubled times.
But I hear you, who wants more anglers on their local rivers? Not me, not you, not any steelheader I know. But, I think this is a selfish sentiment, one that is putting our own fishing experience above the well-being of steelhead. Sure we want a run all to ourselves, but more than that, we want steelhead populations to recover. And they will only recover if droves of people stand up and say, WHAT THE FUCK! The industries decimating steelhead populations are entrenched; the only way we’ll ever uproot them give them that big kick in the ass they so deserve is by organizing our buddies and shouting in unison. I saw the book as one way I could rouse new voices.
MS: You mention your wife is understanding of your fishing obsession. Can she talk to my wife?
JL: That can be arranged. Though I’m sure you and I in the same boat, figuratively speaking. For us chronic anglers, spousal negotiating is like balancing a two-hander on a pinkie–its requires precision, foresight, and delicacy. Be warned Matt: If your lady convinces mine to retract her generous “fish-whenever-you-want” offer, I’m coming to sleep on your couch when she throws me out.
MS: I heard your recommendation to gear fish new rivers, and the inclusion of fly rod jigs got this book blackballed by some fly shops. Was that a risk you knew you were running when you wrote it?
JL: Great question. First off, the recommendation. When I’m new to a medium-sized “ditch” river like those in the coast range of Oregon, I prefer to start with a spinner or jig. I’m trying to locate five or six spots I can trust to hold fish, and a spinner or jig will allow me to cover about three or four times more water in a day. Once I’ve got some go-to spots, I switch back to fly gear and fish with confidence. I won’t fish gear on small or big rivers because I can typically cover the lies in a smaller river in the same amount of time with flies, and on a big river, I have a much easier time locating prime holding water. (Personally, I think medium-sized rivers, especially those with deep guts, are the most tricky and technically demanding of all steelhead rivers).
I knew I was running a risk when I included the hybrid technique (jig fishing off a fly rod, a really fun and challenging way to fish during high water events). Just like I knew I was running a risk including a chapter on fishing indie tactics. I didn’t expect to get blacklisted by any shops–I thought people would see the balance, six chapters on traditional methods and two on “radical” methods, and cut me some slack. But to be totally honest, I was hoping to ruffle a few of the more uppity and elitist feathers. The one thing about steelheading culture that has always driven me crazy is how seriously we take ourselves. I mean come on, it’s fishing. It’s the coolest kind of fishing, but it’s still fishing. I disagree that there is an ethical difference between fishing a floating line or a sinking line, a dead-drifted fly or a swung fly. The difference is a stylistic one.
Don’t get me wrong here: when guys target dark, wild steelhead with dead-drifted flies, I see an ethical problem. Just like I see an ethical problem when a guy loops on a sinking line, a ten foot leader, and a heavily weighted fly and swings it across a smooth tailout. These are ethical problems because these folks are taking advantage of the fish; they’re catching native steelhead that don’t have the energy to chase down a fly on their own accord, fish that should be left to spawn. But these ethical problems don’t implicate the techniques–they implicate the anglers. So I just chuckle when I hear people up on their high horses dissing indie tactics or sinking lines as inherently “lesser” than, say, skated dries. They’re not lesser, they’re just different. Personally, I’d rather catch a fish on a dry, but that doesn’t make catching one on indie tactics wrong. And I get straight-up annoyed when I hear guys dissing other anglers for fishing styles different than their own. We’re in this together; we’re on the same team. Let’s focus on what we have in common so that when we need to fight for the fish, we’ll have a strong and unified voice.
A note about the North Umpqua’s ban on indie tactics: I’m all for it. Too many people were posting up on staging areas and pounding dark and dour fish. The ban was needed to protect the fish. But, again, the problem wasn’t the indicators, it was the anglers.
Though I was surprised–and a little dismayed–by the blacklisting of the book, I was hoping to spark a conversation among steelheaders. Right now, a lot of us see steelheaders as split into two camps, indie anglers and swingers. I see that division as being very bad for steelhead. I hoped if a book came out that included a thorough coverage of indie tactics, the technique might gain a bit more legitimacy, and that those folks who’ve hated on it for so long might reconsider their prejudices–they might see that indie dudes care about the fish too. Maybe, just maybe, the next generation of steelheaders (if there are any steelhead left) will focus on what binds us, not what divides us.
Also, just on a personal note, steelheading became much more rewarding for me once I allowed myself to fish both swinging and dead-drifting presentations. They each dovetail with a different type of water, and for me, the real pleasure of steelheading is found in exploring a river–its riffles and its pockets. Keeping an open mind allows a person to see a river as a more dynamic and nuanced entity. It’s not just the buckets in the swingable runs; it’s also the migration routes through the pocket water, the slots along the rapids, that seam where the white water slides along the ledge. They all hold steelies, and they’re all fun to ply in their own way. For me, it’s pretty simple; using the technique that best matches the water delivers more of the candy I so crave: that moment just before a chromer takes when you know you’re fishing a perfect spot, perfectly.
MS: I have a couple questions from our esteemed anadromous fish columnist Rob Russell.
What’s with the beard, are you a Quaker?
JL: Ha! No, I’m just a steelheader. This beard is my fly patch.
Marijuana was a central character in Northwest of Normal. Exactly how much pot do you smoke?
JL: Mar-i-what? Never heard of it.
Come meet John Larison next Wed at the shop or the Trout Unlimited meeting!
In the cold pre-dawn on a Pacific tidal estuary, Rob pushed us out with the tide into a maze of muddy banks that all looked alike, snaggy dead trees sticking up out of the water, reaching for the boat. We had fog shrouding the hills around us, rain falling around our ears. We were traveling some kind of River Styx, purgatorial dream, every once in a while some character would emerge out of the fog and then soon we’d be alone again with the rain and the tide.
The sun came up and morning went by fast. After hooking up with one salmon and losing it in a seal-induced panic, I broke into our 40s of PBR in the cooler. Buzzed and soaked, we were anchored up above a good run we had to ourselves, but we decided to move on.
Just around a bend, a piece of shoreline we hadn’t given a passing glance on the way in blew up with rolling fish.
We watched a wave of fish pushing up-current toward the boat in the estuary and actually got a little scared. Sixty pound chinook aren’t unheard of. They’d look like a damn alligator in the water. We swallowed our fear and anchored up above the fish anyway.
I had total confidence in my comets going into the trip. I had a rainbow of them, a full saltwater C&F box stuffed with beautiful Jay Nicholas-inspired, Rob Russell-tweaked, crittery-ass comets. The key to Jay’s flies that I’ve noticed was small, sparse and bright. Rob’s big emphasis was contrast and bugginess. I tried to keep all of those qualities in mind while tying dozens of comets over weeks of chili-cookoff fly-tying nights, and came up with a quality collection.
The hot fly of the day proved to be a pink comet on a Gamakatsu L11S-3H, sparse pink bucktail, holographic silver braid body, small black hackle rib, black chenille ball collar to push out the hackle, and pink saddle hackle. I used lead eyes instead of bead chain and the fly swam hook pointed up.
I was casting into a pool, stripping in slowly when my comet seemed to hang on the bottom. And then the bottom took off across the pool. I didn’t know it was a chum salmon right away, I just knew it was big and mean. It bulldogged me around the pool, and then just kept beating on me when most any other fish would have been done. Chum salmon don’t stop fighting.
By the time we got back into the boat and got back on the pool, I’d already had the best day of fly fishing for salmon in my life, and it was only noon and the fish were still rolling.
I’d love to tell you the play-by-play, who caught what when, but I was in full-adrenaline blackout for the next several hours. What I can tell you is that Rob and I landed a bunch of chums and they’re bad mother-fu#kers.
It’s hard for me to say I’m concerned with salmon doing me physical harm when I’ve got a chinook in the smoker, but you didn’t see the chum salmon bust out of the water like Air Jaws, charging the boat, mouth open when it first felt the prick of one of my comets. The teeth on these things are amazing.
Eventually I got into the zone Rob talked about in one of his latest posts, swinging and stripping, tense with the potential. You feel your shooting head, leader length, fly weight and retrieve all come together in a perfectly slow, crittery pulse at the perfect depth.
Some casts I’d have three or four hits on a single retrieve. The hits were all different, sometimes a hanging weight, sometimes a trouty pluck, one hit rob like a freight train and nearly pulled the rod out of his hand. Chum salmon were going airborne, churning the pool like a spin cycle.
Toward evening, I started losing concentration and fished sloppily. I’d fished Rob’s right-hand retrieve reel for most of the day, and my left bicep was too sore to fight another fish anyway. But I’d force myself to focus with the thought that it could be five years, or a lifetime, before I was casting flies to a pile of salty salmon in a pool like this again.
Near dark, the chinook hit. I assumed it was another chum, so I put the wood to it. I also had no idea Rob’s leader was only 12lb test. Once out of the boat and on the bank, the big chinook brought me to my knees. I had no arm left, I was sinking in the mud, falling down. I could see the silver sides and started to panic a little, but Rob kept me in the game long enough to get it to the beach.
This big buck was one of the biggest fish I’d ever caught, fly or otherwise. And by far the biggest salmon. Rob and I celebrated, tried to take photos with my jello-arms, and then said thanks and prepped the fish to go home, ending the best day of fishing of my life.
-MS
