Blue-winged Olives
Baetis
Tiny Baetis mayflies are perhaps the most commonly encountered and imitated by anglers on all American trout streams due to their great abundance, widespread distribution, and trout-friendly emergence habits.
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This is the first of it's family I've seen, collected from a tiny, fishless stream in the Cascades. The three species of this genus all live in the Northwest and are predators that primarily eat stonefly nymphs Merritt R.W., Cummins, K.W., and Berg, M.B. (2019).
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fly tyers unabashedly embrace the entomological side of the sport. Learn more about Troutnut or
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Oldredbarn on Nov 11, 2009November 11th, 2009, 5:40 am EST
I was discussing something with Jon on another thread and remembered the only time I had fallen in while fishing. Maybe you have a funny story about floating your hat as well...
It was the summer of O.J.'s infamous white Bronco ride...Whatever year that was. We were all meeting in a hotel in Cadillac MI for a family reunion that weekend. I remeber pulling in late after working all day and driving up from Detroit. After I checked in my mom yelled out, "Come quick! You have to see this on the T.V." There was the white Bronco driving down some expressway in California with cop cars in tow. What weirdness!
In the mid 90's we had a couple of summers here in Michigan that were cooler than normal and this particular one was one of them. I snuck out one evening with my nephew to a small river I had fished as a young boy. I was trying to get him interested in fishing with me and took him to the place that had hooked me in terms of trout and fly fishing.
We drove to the river and got geared up and walked down to the stream. It was just prior to sunset but the sun was just dipping down in to the tops of the trees. We sat there and watched a bit and the poor boy had to suffer through the entomology lecture etc...
We spotted a couple rises along the far bank and I waded out to give the "this is how it's done demo" to my nephew. I hooked and landed two nice brooks and released them. I could see that my nephew was more interested, like all of us are, in hooking his own fish instead of watching me do it.
I waded upstream and had him follow me on a path along the river.
There was a nice open area around this nice pool. I told him to sit himself down here and watch for rising fish. I then turned and started back down the river. I will admit here , as you may guess, that I had brooks on the mind. The two I had caught were puking up caddis larvae and I had a caddis on the end of my line, had already caught two, and knew I was in the ballpark. I was geeked!
I headed back the way I came, with my head in outer space, and ran in to a root or some large piece of tree right in the shins. I lost my balance and was falling forward and everytime I tried to regain my footing I was pounding my shins in to the submerged whatever. In I went! I was actually underwater.
I jumped up and started to wade towards the bank and here comes my nephew running down the path, "Uncle Spence you ok?!" Since it was fairly cool out I had on a sweater and it was dripping water. I told my nephew that I thought the fishing was over for the evening. We walked back down the trail to the Jeep.
We were taking off or gear, mine soaked through, and he started to laugh. "Hey!" I said, "What's so funny?" He said, "Well uncle Spence you must admit it is a little funny...Isn't it?" I started to laugh as well and said I better get out of this stuff before I freeze to death. I drove back to the hotel room and had to lay out every towel in the place and put all of my flies, hundreds of them, out on the towels to air dry...They were all floating in water in my fly boxes!
So much for that fly fishing lesson, eh!
Spence
It was the summer of O.J.'s infamous white Bronco ride...Whatever year that was. We were all meeting in a hotel in Cadillac MI for a family reunion that weekend. I remeber pulling in late after working all day and driving up from Detroit. After I checked in my mom yelled out, "Come quick! You have to see this on the T.V." There was the white Bronco driving down some expressway in California with cop cars in tow. What weirdness!
In the mid 90's we had a couple of summers here in Michigan that were cooler than normal and this particular one was one of them. I snuck out one evening with my nephew to a small river I had fished as a young boy. I was trying to get him interested in fishing with me and took him to the place that had hooked me in terms of trout and fly fishing.
We drove to the river and got geared up and walked down to the stream. It was just prior to sunset but the sun was just dipping down in to the tops of the trees. We sat there and watched a bit and the poor boy had to suffer through the entomology lecture etc...
We spotted a couple rises along the far bank and I waded out to give the "this is how it's done demo" to my nephew. I hooked and landed two nice brooks and released them. I could see that my nephew was more interested, like all of us are, in hooking his own fish instead of watching me do it.
I waded upstream and had him follow me on a path along the river.
There was a nice open area around this nice pool. I told him to sit himself down here and watch for rising fish. I then turned and started back down the river. I will admit here , as you may guess, that I had brooks on the mind. The two I had caught were puking up caddis larvae and I had a caddis on the end of my line, had already caught two, and knew I was in the ballpark. I was geeked!
I headed back the way I came, with my head in outer space, and ran in to a root or some large piece of tree right in the shins. I lost my balance and was falling forward and everytime I tried to regain my footing I was pounding my shins in to the submerged whatever. In I went! I was actually underwater.
I jumped up and started to wade towards the bank and here comes my nephew running down the path, "Uncle Spence you ok?!" Since it was fairly cool out I had on a sweater and it was dripping water. I told my nephew that I thought the fishing was over for the evening. We walked back down the trail to the Jeep.
We were taking off or gear, mine soaked through, and he started to laugh. "Hey!" I said, "What's so funny?" He said, "Well uncle Spence you must admit it is a little funny...Isn't it?" I started to laugh as well and said I better get out of this stuff before I freeze to death. I drove back to the hotel room and had to lay out every towel in the place and put all of my flies, hundreds of them, out on the towels to air dry...They were all floating in water in my fly boxes!
So much for that fly fishing lesson, eh!
Spence
"Even when my best efforts fail it's a satisfying challenge, and that, after all, is the essence of fly fishing." -Chauncy Lively
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
RleeP on Nov 11, 2009November 11th, 2009, 8:42 am EST
No hat dunkings for me.. If my head goes under, so does about $4,000 worth of electronics nested in my ears. Not wearing them fishing isn't an option. It's the only way I can hear the stream falling from rock to rock and the redwing blackbirds giving me hell. And I get antsy and nervous without them and can't enjoy myself.
So, I limit where I fish and what sort of chances I take on bigger water.
So far, so good. Although I do manage a couple of vest soakers a year when I trip over logs, etc. But so far, the high water mark has always been about where my full windsor would go if I was going to a wedding or such.
My Dad had a floating hat story though. He was a blue collar guy trying to support a family of 6 and he was very frugal. He wouldn't even go fishing in Algonquin Park for a week (a $150 dollar trip in those days) until he had his mortgage paid off. But his buddy Walter who worked with him only had one kid and his dad gave him his house. He was a pretty profligate spender, always had a new gun or new rod or new Shorthair puppy out of royal AKC stock.
Walter and my Dad fished and hunted together all the time and Walter was always torturing him by taunting him about whatever new thing he had. Dads hippers were always 5 years old and full of holes and he fished a Western Auto 8 1/2 rod for HCH line that was twice that old. Walter always had the latest Fenwick or Shakespeare glass and a new Herter's line. Didn't really matter that much. All either of them used a fly rod for was poking a worm-laden hook through the alders.
So, one day they are over on Beaver Dam Run near Corry, PA in Erie County. Beaver Dam was and is a hellhole to fish. But it was always loaded with a mix of wild (and in those days) stocked browns. It's Class A now and hasn't been stocked since 1982. About 8 feet wide and runs, alder choked, through one of the most gelatinous pieces of so-called "ground" in the Commonwealth. It almost always took 10 minutes to go from one pool to another on the stream. 5 Minutes to fight your way through the brush and 5 more to repeatedly extricate your boots from the muck, step by step.
So, Walter is standing waist deep in the middle of one of the few (allegedly) solid-bottomed pools in Beaver Dam and he's torturing my Dad. "Look here, Robert. Brand new Converse chest waders, nary a leak. I can go right up the middle of it while you're sitting on the bank trying to dump the water out of your boots and trying to get them out of the muck. Smooooooth..."
This said, he took one step forward and disappeared, all except his hat, which floated off. Soon enough, he came burbling up and as soon as he got most of the water out of his mouth, he made a short speech about our Lord and Savior (and His Dad) and accused them of of being and doing a lot of things that almost certainly weren't true or at least could not be supported historically.
My Dad, standing on the bank, said: "Here's your hat, Woofie". (He often called him Woofie or Lord Herringbone Tweed as a comment on his ostentatious ways). "I think your waders DO leak, after all. It was just a matter of getting deep enough to find the hole.."
And up the creek they went..
Woofie died of excess red meat consumption and Newport 100's inhalation when he was 62. My Dad made it to 81.
It pays to be thrifty.
That's my hat story...:)
So, I limit where I fish and what sort of chances I take on bigger water.
So far, so good. Although I do manage a couple of vest soakers a year when I trip over logs, etc. But so far, the high water mark has always been about where my full windsor would go if I was going to a wedding or such.
My Dad had a floating hat story though. He was a blue collar guy trying to support a family of 6 and he was very frugal. He wouldn't even go fishing in Algonquin Park for a week (a $150 dollar trip in those days) until he had his mortgage paid off. But his buddy Walter who worked with him only had one kid and his dad gave him his house. He was a pretty profligate spender, always had a new gun or new rod or new Shorthair puppy out of royal AKC stock.
Walter and my Dad fished and hunted together all the time and Walter was always torturing him by taunting him about whatever new thing he had. Dads hippers were always 5 years old and full of holes and he fished a Western Auto 8 1/2 rod for HCH line that was twice that old. Walter always had the latest Fenwick or Shakespeare glass and a new Herter's line. Didn't really matter that much. All either of them used a fly rod for was poking a worm-laden hook through the alders.
So, one day they are over on Beaver Dam Run near Corry, PA in Erie County. Beaver Dam was and is a hellhole to fish. But it was always loaded with a mix of wild (and in those days) stocked browns. It's Class A now and hasn't been stocked since 1982. About 8 feet wide and runs, alder choked, through one of the most gelatinous pieces of so-called "ground" in the Commonwealth. It almost always took 10 minutes to go from one pool to another on the stream. 5 Minutes to fight your way through the brush and 5 more to repeatedly extricate your boots from the muck, step by step.
So, Walter is standing waist deep in the middle of one of the few (allegedly) solid-bottomed pools in Beaver Dam and he's torturing my Dad. "Look here, Robert. Brand new Converse chest waders, nary a leak. I can go right up the middle of it while you're sitting on the bank trying to dump the water out of your boots and trying to get them out of the muck. Smooooooth..."
This said, he took one step forward and disappeared, all except his hat, which floated off. Soon enough, he came burbling up and as soon as he got most of the water out of his mouth, he made a short speech about our Lord and Savior (and His Dad) and accused them of of being and doing a lot of things that almost certainly weren't true or at least could not be supported historically.
My Dad, standing on the bank, said: "Here's your hat, Woofie". (He often called him Woofie or Lord Herringbone Tweed as a comment on his ostentatious ways). "I think your waders DO leak, after all. It was just a matter of getting deep enough to find the hole.."
And up the creek they went..
Woofie died of excess red meat consumption and Newport 100's inhalation when he was 62. My Dad made it to 81.
It pays to be thrifty.
That's my hat story...:)
Shawnny3 on Nov 11, 2009November 11th, 2009, 12:05 pm EST
Never floated my hat, but I have floated my wife and unborn son.
We were on the Roaring Fork, I fishing and she taking photos. Immediately after arriving, we had crossed over in some pretty mild water and begun to make our way upstream. As dark was falling, I realized we still had to cross back again to get back to the car. I found a fast riffle and reassured my wife in total ignorance that it was quite shallow and I'd hold her hand as we waded across. About halfway across, I realized that it was both very fast and not at all shallow in the middle, and that even with my taller frame and greater experience, I would have had trouble making it across even by myself. Reasoning that we were already halfway across and it was bound to start getting shallower, we pressed on. When the water reached my waist, I knew it was over hers, and that the combination of increased drag and buoyancy was going to be trouble. I could feel the rocks beneath my feet washing away. Then, my wife totally lost her footing. She held onto my hand with one of hers, and with her other held her camera bag just above the water, as she and my gestating son body-surfed at the end of my arm. I have no idea how I kept myself from losing my footing as well, but I practically ran to the bank, dragging her behind me. When we got onto dry land we had a good laugh in the half-dark, but the ordeal was anything but joyful. She took home a lot of water that day.
-Shawn
We were on the Roaring Fork, I fishing and she taking photos. Immediately after arriving, we had crossed over in some pretty mild water and begun to make our way upstream. As dark was falling, I realized we still had to cross back again to get back to the car. I found a fast riffle and reassured my wife in total ignorance that it was quite shallow and I'd hold her hand as we waded across. About halfway across, I realized that it was both very fast and not at all shallow in the middle, and that even with my taller frame and greater experience, I would have had trouble making it across even by myself. Reasoning that we were already halfway across and it was bound to start getting shallower, we pressed on. When the water reached my waist, I knew it was over hers, and that the combination of increased drag and buoyancy was going to be trouble. I could feel the rocks beneath my feet washing away. Then, my wife totally lost her footing. She held onto my hand with one of hers, and with her other held her camera bag just above the water, as she and my gestating son body-surfed at the end of my arm. I have no idea how I kept myself from losing my footing as well, but I practically ran to the bank, dragging her behind me. When we got onto dry land we had a good laugh in the half-dark, but the ordeal was anything but joyful. She took home a lot of water that day.
-Shawn
Jewelry-Quality Artistic Salmon Flies, by Shawn Davis
www.davisflydesigns.com
www.davisflydesigns.com
Oldredbarn on Nov 11, 2009November 11th, 2009, 1:52 pm EST
Lee and Shawn,
Great stories!
Lee your story is one of those we all love. There is justice in the world sometimes. Your dad sounds like the real deal. We could use a few thousand more of his kind walking around. Maybe the good old US of A wouldn't find itself in the jam its in today.
Shawn...Sometimes we just push it too far with the wives! I decided to take my wife up to the Lodge years back. There is a nice restaurant there and I promised that sometime during our visit we would eat there.
One day I took her out in a canoe. I had this great idea to float down to the fishable water and then switch seats and have a free float...Why do we men think we can pull this shit off?!
I pulled out the rod and strung it up. Someone forgot to tell me she never piloted a canoe. We immediately went from the left side of the river straight to the right side. I had a little chat to make sure we were going to make it...The only thing that stopped us from going over was I grabbed a tree branch.
We then went from the right side of the river straight to the left. I kept yelling, "To the right! We have to go right!" Smash! Right in to a cedar sweeper...I said, "Oh shit! Where's my rod?" My wife handed me the tip section with a piece missing from the tip to the first guide. That Loomis IMX was tough if it was bent with a fish tugging on it...Not so tough if you ram the tip in to a tree...Snaps like a twig.
The only bad thing I said was, "I guess I won't be doing any fishing today!" We swapped back to me in the rear...Tried to enjoy the rest of the trip...Wife crying in the front of the boat..."Babe...It's just a rod. Willy built it for me and he can fix it for me."
I still have the Loomis and it works fine...Loomis back then only charged me for shipping and they matched a tip blank to the butt section...It's only a fraction of an inch longer than it's original 8'6".
Part two...Same week up north. Guy running the Lodge gave me a pair of wadders for the wife so she could follow me down stream and see what it's all about. Side note: I have been known to stay in the river all day until my stomach hurt with hunger pangs. I would of stayed even then if another damn fish rose.
We went up to the North Branch of the Au Sable...Just upstream of where Henry Ford and Edison stayed when they fished there, back in the day. The first couple Brooks looked interesting to her as did the first half dozen bugs I made her look at. Well towards evening the little slate winged olives started to really go and a fish here and a fish there and the next thing I knew it was pitch dark.
I may be slow but I know when my wife is out of patience...We were in a section of river where there are a lot of submerged logs. I said to her to be careful and pointed out the barely visable shadows, that were the logs on the bottom, as I stepped over them...She stubbed her wader boot and went down catching herself with one hand and I could tell it hurt a bit. She came up with a soaked arm and yelled, "Fuck!"
"Dear! The car is just right up here a bit and we can get out of the river right here!" We walked to the car in silence...Got out of our waders in silence and she got in to the car...I got in...She said, "I'm not ready to speak to you yet. I may never speak to you again..." We never made it to the restaurant at the Lodge for dinner.
Well we are still together nearly 20 years later but haven't fished together in a long while!
Another side note for the hell of it. When you cross the river in a spot that's rough and one of you is inexperienced or smaller than you line them up just downstream from yourself and break the current for them. I use to do that for my nephew mentioned in the above story.
Take Care!
Spence
Great stories!
Lee your story is one of those we all love. There is justice in the world sometimes. Your dad sounds like the real deal. We could use a few thousand more of his kind walking around. Maybe the good old US of A wouldn't find itself in the jam its in today.
Shawn...Sometimes we just push it too far with the wives! I decided to take my wife up to the Lodge years back. There is a nice restaurant there and I promised that sometime during our visit we would eat there.
One day I took her out in a canoe. I had this great idea to float down to the fishable water and then switch seats and have a free float...Why do we men think we can pull this shit off?!
I pulled out the rod and strung it up. Someone forgot to tell me she never piloted a canoe. We immediately went from the left side of the river straight to the right side. I had a little chat to make sure we were going to make it...The only thing that stopped us from going over was I grabbed a tree branch.
We then went from the right side of the river straight to the left. I kept yelling, "To the right! We have to go right!" Smash! Right in to a cedar sweeper...I said, "Oh shit! Where's my rod?" My wife handed me the tip section with a piece missing from the tip to the first guide. That Loomis IMX was tough if it was bent with a fish tugging on it...Not so tough if you ram the tip in to a tree...Snaps like a twig.
The only bad thing I said was, "I guess I won't be doing any fishing today!" We swapped back to me in the rear...Tried to enjoy the rest of the trip...Wife crying in the front of the boat..."Babe...It's just a rod. Willy built it for me and he can fix it for me."
I still have the Loomis and it works fine...Loomis back then only charged me for shipping and they matched a tip blank to the butt section...It's only a fraction of an inch longer than it's original 8'6".
Part two...Same week up north. Guy running the Lodge gave me a pair of wadders for the wife so she could follow me down stream and see what it's all about. Side note: I have been known to stay in the river all day until my stomach hurt with hunger pangs. I would of stayed even then if another damn fish rose.
We went up to the North Branch of the Au Sable...Just upstream of where Henry Ford and Edison stayed when they fished there, back in the day. The first couple Brooks looked interesting to her as did the first half dozen bugs I made her look at. Well towards evening the little slate winged olives started to really go and a fish here and a fish there and the next thing I knew it was pitch dark.
I may be slow but I know when my wife is out of patience...We were in a section of river where there are a lot of submerged logs. I said to her to be careful and pointed out the barely visable shadows, that were the logs on the bottom, as I stepped over them...She stubbed her wader boot and went down catching herself with one hand and I could tell it hurt a bit. She came up with a soaked arm and yelled, "Fuck!"
"Dear! The car is just right up here a bit and we can get out of the river right here!" We walked to the car in silence...Got out of our waders in silence and she got in to the car...I got in...She said, "I'm not ready to speak to you yet. I may never speak to you again..." We never made it to the restaurant at the Lodge for dinner.
Well we are still together nearly 20 years later but haven't fished together in a long while!
Another side note for the hell of it. When you cross the river in a spot that's rough and one of you is inexperienced or smaller than you line them up just downstream from yourself and break the current for them. I use to do that for my nephew mentioned in the above story.
Take Care!
Spence
"Even when my best efforts fail it's a satisfying challenge, and that, after all, is the essence of fly fishing." -Chauncy Lively
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
Martinlf on Nov 11, 2009November 11th, 2009, 11:52 pm EST
Great stories! With limited time, I'll just note that while fishing for smallmouth I did step off a ledge in the Susquehanna one day. As I looked up at the light above and felt my waders filling with water I thought, "You damn fool; you have a wife and newborn at home. It's time to start being more careful." Obviously I survived, and that afternoon I went out and bought a life vest designed for fishing, with big pockets to hold fly boxes. I never waded the Susky again without it.
"He spread them a yard and a half. 'And every one that got away is this big.'"
--Fred Chappell
--Fred Chappell
Oldredbarn on Nov 12, 2009November 12th, 2009, 2:31 am EST
Lou,
In 1995 I went to Montana. I was going to spend some time on the Madison. It is, as you may know, one of the fastest rivers you may ever dip your toes in. My friend told me before I left that I will take one look at this river and say to myself, "How in the hell am I going to fish this river?!"
I was going to have three days with the Madison River Fishing Co as a Montana sampler. It was going to start Monday. I snuck out to Three Dollar Bridge early on a Sunday morning. I was decked out...New Sage, New vest, fancy 35mm camera around my neck, etc. Like a guy showing up to the street basketball game in a new pair of sneakers!
I did as my friend had told me. I walked aways from the parking area downstream to a big bend and started to fish back upstream...After an hour or so I stopped in the river and had a panic attack..."I'm going to be here for two whole weeks and I'm going to have to fight this river! Damn?!"
Behind a very large boulder sticking up out of the river I saw my first fish rise! I had on an Elk Hair Caddis...I tossed it over this fish, he took a couple looks at it and decided it was a fraud. Just below him in the slick, calmer current down from the boulder another trout rose. I switched to a slightly different caddis pattern that my friend had shown me how to tie.
I laid out about the best cast I could manage with a screaming current on either side of the boulder and between me and the fish. He took it and off he went! I started to follow and almost fell it after bumping my toe on a rock...I froze! What do I do here? I have an expensive camera hanging around my neck, I'm afraid to move, and have what turned out to be a 20"+ rainbow on the end of my line!
I somehow got the fish to me and he was laying in a small depression on the bottom looking up at me but refusing to come to the surface. I'm so happy no one witnessed this, man! It would of blew away any America's Most Funny Vids...
Picture this...I'm standing frozen in the river, my right arm sticking up in the air like the statue of Liberty, rod pointing away from me with just a hint of flyline hanging from the tip! The fish has hunkered down and won't budge. I reach back for my net and realized it was a nice, small, Au Sable river type net and it looked way too tiny for this fish here. I stuck it in the river anyway...I was punting here...Really no clue! He took one look at this net I was sticking in his face and violently shook his haed several quick times and ping! Off he went.
I went in to town later...Bought a water-proof disposable camera and parked the good one in the trunk...I had an instant respect for this river and was very careful from then on out...One of those inflatables would have been a great idea. By later in the week I started to get my footing a bit.
Think of this...My first western trout a 20" Bow! I still don't know how I actually didn't lose that fish way before I tried to net him.
Oh...Later I sat down on the bank right on top of this little net I had and snapped it in two...I purchased a "Montana Sized" net after that.
Take Care! It sounds like what they say about drowning may be true. It sounds like your life was passing in front of your eyes! Wife! Wife with kid! Etc.
Spence
In 1995 I went to Montana. I was going to spend some time on the Madison. It is, as you may know, one of the fastest rivers you may ever dip your toes in. My friend told me before I left that I will take one look at this river and say to myself, "How in the hell am I going to fish this river?!"
I was going to have three days with the Madison River Fishing Co as a Montana sampler. It was going to start Monday. I snuck out to Three Dollar Bridge early on a Sunday morning. I was decked out...New Sage, New vest, fancy 35mm camera around my neck, etc. Like a guy showing up to the street basketball game in a new pair of sneakers!
I did as my friend had told me. I walked aways from the parking area downstream to a big bend and started to fish back upstream...After an hour or so I stopped in the river and had a panic attack..."I'm going to be here for two whole weeks and I'm going to have to fight this river! Damn?!"
Behind a very large boulder sticking up out of the river I saw my first fish rise! I had on an Elk Hair Caddis...I tossed it over this fish, he took a couple looks at it and decided it was a fraud. Just below him in the slick, calmer current down from the boulder another trout rose. I switched to a slightly different caddis pattern that my friend had shown me how to tie.
I laid out about the best cast I could manage with a screaming current on either side of the boulder and between me and the fish. He took it and off he went! I started to follow and almost fell it after bumping my toe on a rock...I froze! What do I do here? I have an expensive camera hanging around my neck, I'm afraid to move, and have what turned out to be a 20"+ rainbow on the end of my line!
I somehow got the fish to me and he was laying in a small depression on the bottom looking up at me but refusing to come to the surface. I'm so happy no one witnessed this, man! It would of blew away any America's Most Funny Vids...
Picture this...I'm standing frozen in the river, my right arm sticking up in the air like the statue of Liberty, rod pointing away from me with just a hint of flyline hanging from the tip! The fish has hunkered down and won't budge. I reach back for my net and realized it was a nice, small, Au Sable river type net and it looked way too tiny for this fish here. I stuck it in the river anyway...I was punting here...Really no clue! He took one look at this net I was sticking in his face and violently shook his haed several quick times and ping! Off he went.
I went in to town later...Bought a water-proof disposable camera and parked the good one in the trunk...I had an instant respect for this river and was very careful from then on out...One of those inflatables would have been a great idea. By later in the week I started to get my footing a bit.
Think of this...My first western trout a 20" Bow! I still don't know how I actually didn't lose that fish way before I tried to net him.
Oh...Later I sat down on the bank right on top of this little net I had and snapped it in two...I purchased a "Montana Sized" net after that.
Take Care! It sounds like what they say about drowning may be true. It sounds like your life was passing in front of your eyes! Wife! Wife with kid! Etc.
Spence
"Even when my best efforts fail it's a satisfying challenge, and that, after all, is the essence of fly fishing." -Chauncy Lively
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
Flatstick96 on Nov 12, 2009November 12th, 2009, 3:16 am EST
I'm a little surprised Shawnny didn't share his memory of the time he watched me trip over a submerged rock and take a full header into Spring Creek - I came up soaked head to toe, with my chest waders full of water. Adding to the hilarity (at least from where he stood) was the fact that it was late December; water temp was about 38, air temp probably in the upper 20's - good times.
Another of my blunders that he witnessed occurred on the Fork (on that same trip where he tried to drown his wife). We were fishing together - sort of; we were close enough that we could see each other, but we were working up opposite sides of the river, so weren't close enough to communicate verbally over the noise of the river in this particular canyon section. I can only imagine that as he watched the following unfold it must have seemed like watching a Chaplin film - all that was missing was the music.
I was fishing a tandem rig, and I was fishing a particularly deep, fast stretch when I hooked and brought to hand a very nice rainbow. I never like to over-play a fish if I can help it, so when I get them to hand the fish usually have quite a lot of spunk left in them - this one was no different. I reached into the water and cradled him gently with my left hand as I reached down with my right to dislodge my lead fly from his jaw. What I didn't realize at the time was that the line going to my trailing fly was laying along the side of the fish (so the line was now also in my left hand). As I reached down with the right hand the fish decided he really, REALLY wanted to be back in the deepest part of the river, and he made a run for it (with my lead fly still firmly planed in his jaw). When he took off, he buried my trailing fly, right up to the top of the bend, in the webbing between my left thumb and forefinger.
All of what I've just described took place in the matter of maybe one second - to say that the sudden role reversal caught me off guard would be an understatement. In the split second when the fish tried to take off, the immediate thought was: "How do I reduce the amazing pain that has just begun in my left hand?" - the instinctive reaction was to follow where he was leading me, so I did.
Shawnny's across the river, sort-of watching as I release a nice fish, but not paying too much mind. Imagine his surprise then when he watches me simultaneously: a) drop my rod in the water, b) dive, left-hand-first right into the river, seemingly of my own volition, and c) start flailing around wildly with my right hand, trying to grab the line between the fish and my left hand so as to relieve the pressure and pain being exerted on my left hand.
After what seemed like a minute (but was really only a second or two) I managed to grab the line with my right hand and, while laying prostrate in the river, release the fish (who was none the worse for wear), then release myself (wet, sore, and thoroughly humbled, although reasonably unscathed otherwise).
The first thing that went through my head afterwords was: "Man am I glad I use barbless hooks".
I can only imagine that, as this fish relayed this story to his buddies, they shared in Spence's sentiment: "There is justice in the world sometimes".
Indeed there is...
Another of my blunders that he witnessed occurred on the Fork (on that same trip where he tried to drown his wife). We were fishing together - sort of; we were close enough that we could see each other, but we were working up opposite sides of the river, so weren't close enough to communicate verbally over the noise of the river in this particular canyon section. I can only imagine that as he watched the following unfold it must have seemed like watching a Chaplin film - all that was missing was the music.
I was fishing a tandem rig, and I was fishing a particularly deep, fast stretch when I hooked and brought to hand a very nice rainbow. I never like to over-play a fish if I can help it, so when I get them to hand the fish usually have quite a lot of spunk left in them - this one was no different. I reached into the water and cradled him gently with my left hand as I reached down with my right to dislodge my lead fly from his jaw. What I didn't realize at the time was that the line going to my trailing fly was laying along the side of the fish (so the line was now also in my left hand). As I reached down with the right hand the fish decided he really, REALLY wanted to be back in the deepest part of the river, and he made a run for it (with my lead fly still firmly planed in his jaw). When he took off, he buried my trailing fly, right up to the top of the bend, in the webbing between my left thumb and forefinger.
All of what I've just described took place in the matter of maybe one second - to say that the sudden role reversal caught me off guard would be an understatement. In the split second when the fish tried to take off, the immediate thought was: "How do I reduce the amazing pain that has just begun in my left hand?" - the instinctive reaction was to follow where he was leading me, so I did.
Shawnny's across the river, sort-of watching as I release a nice fish, but not paying too much mind. Imagine his surprise then when he watches me simultaneously: a) drop my rod in the water, b) dive, left-hand-first right into the river, seemingly of my own volition, and c) start flailing around wildly with my right hand, trying to grab the line between the fish and my left hand so as to relieve the pressure and pain being exerted on my left hand.
After what seemed like a minute (but was really only a second or two) I managed to grab the line with my right hand and, while laying prostrate in the river, release the fish (who was none the worse for wear), then release myself (wet, sore, and thoroughly humbled, although reasonably unscathed otherwise).
The first thing that went through my head afterwords was: "Man am I glad I use barbless hooks".
I can only imagine that, as this fish relayed this story to his buddies, they shared in Spence's sentiment: "There is justice in the world sometimes".
Indeed there is...
Oldredbarn on Nov 12, 2009November 12th, 2009, 4:19 am EST
When I started this thread I never dreamed it would be so much fun! I really need to get some work done in this office today before my wife/boss fires me, but I can't stop laughing. You and Shawn may need to think this fishing together through...You two are dangerous! I bet an outing with you two is a hoot-and-a-half!
One is trying to do in his poor wife and the other one is impaled by a fish!
I must admit that I have thought about the possibility of foul-hooking a fish when using a tandem rig, but to hook oneself...Now that takes skill!
I agree that these trout may get a kick out of messing with the Predator...How many nice fish have you caught only to have the rascal dash under a log, somehow free itself, and you are now hooked to the log? Embarrassing!
A couple years back I had this happen while fishing with a guide buddy. We moved a little downstream and there was another nice rise right up against some man-made structure (trout-hotels Rusty Gates calls them). I cast over the fish and he took the fly. In an instant he dashed under the structure and made an incredible leap out of the water behind the structure in calmer water. Splash!!! Next thing I knew he's off and I'm now hooked again but this time way up under the structure! Even more embarrassing! Now I have to get a soaker to retreive my fly!
My guide buddy said..."From now on damn it, I'm not letting you fish with barbless hooks!" Next time I see him I'm telling him your story and I'm going to say I fish barbless not because I'm a softy for the fish, I'm just thinking of my well-being!
I made the mistake of passing on this story to another younger guide and told him where we were fishing...I was heading home that day...On the Lodge's fishing report page later that week I see this young guide smiling at the camera holding what was probably my fish...Another lesson learned!
Spence
Thanks for the laughs guys!!! I'm heading off tonight to see the Red Wings play the Canucks...I can't wait to run your tales by my brother-in-law...
One is trying to do in his poor wife and the other one is impaled by a fish!
I must admit that I have thought about the possibility of foul-hooking a fish when using a tandem rig, but to hook oneself...Now that takes skill!
I agree that these trout may get a kick out of messing with the Predator...How many nice fish have you caught only to have the rascal dash under a log, somehow free itself, and you are now hooked to the log? Embarrassing!
A couple years back I had this happen while fishing with a guide buddy. We moved a little downstream and there was another nice rise right up against some man-made structure (trout-hotels Rusty Gates calls them). I cast over the fish and he took the fly. In an instant he dashed under the structure and made an incredible leap out of the water behind the structure in calmer water. Splash!!! Next thing I knew he's off and I'm now hooked again but this time way up under the structure! Even more embarrassing! Now I have to get a soaker to retreive my fly!
My guide buddy said..."From now on damn it, I'm not letting you fish with barbless hooks!" Next time I see him I'm telling him your story and I'm going to say I fish barbless not because I'm a softy for the fish, I'm just thinking of my well-being!
I made the mistake of passing on this story to another younger guide and told him where we were fishing...I was heading home that day...On the Lodge's fishing report page later that week I see this young guide smiling at the camera holding what was probably my fish...Another lesson learned!
Spence
Thanks for the laughs guys!!! I'm heading off tonight to see the Red Wings play the Canucks...I can't wait to run your tales by my brother-in-law...
"Even when my best efforts fail it's a satisfying challenge, and that, after all, is the essence of fly fishing." -Chauncy Lively
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
Martinlf on Nov 12, 2009November 12th, 2009, 11:38 am EST
Thanks, guys, good stories, good ideas to ponder. I'm not fishing much right now due to a heavy work load, but it's great to hang out with you guys. I really hope to wet a line with many of you I haven't yet fished with one day, and again to join those I have. In the middst of dealing with some difficult people at work, I find these conversations a breath of cool air off a clear stream.
"He spread them a yard and a half. 'And every one that got away is this big.'"
--Fred Chappell
--Fred Chappell
Oldredbarn on Nov 13, 2009November 13th, 2009, 1:28 am EST
Lou,
If you happen to be standing in your favorite spot and you see one of our hats float by...Reach down and pull a fellow angler out, OK!? We will try and return the favor if need be!
Spence
If you happen to be standing in your favorite spot and you see one of our hats float by...Reach down and pull a fellow angler out, OK!? We will try and return the favor if need be!
Spence
"Even when my best efforts fail it's a satisfying challenge, and that, after all, is the essence of fly fishing." -Chauncy Lively
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
Shawnny3 on Nov 14, 2009November 14th, 2009, 12:33 am EST
Very good story, Duane. From my perspective, though, the tumble into the ice-cold water in December was funnier. The reason? Because when it happened, we were wading in calm, gin-clear water about ankle deep. We're just walking along talking, and all of the sudden I hear a huge splash and turn around to find Duaney face-down in the water. I found myself just standing there, palms up, going, "What the ?@#! just happened?"
Another funny addendum to that story involved Duane's phone, which I always harass him for carrying on the stream (I hate cell phones, particularly when a call interrupts the serenity and solitude of fishing). He soaked and ruined his phone that day, which I thought was simply God's way of reiterating to him what could be called natural law: "Thou shalt not defile a trout stream with electronic tethers." Instead, though, Duaney learned a whole different lesson, and decided to start carrying his phone inside a zip-lock bag. The next time he took a tumble, I was again with him, and the first words out of his mouth after he resurfaced were, "Glad I've got my cell phone in a zip-lock bag!" Sometime later that day, probably wondering why he hadn't heard from his wife in the previous half-hour, he reached into his vest and pulled out his phone... which was floating in an inch of water inside the zip-lock bag. Good stuff.
Finally, probably the most amusing story from that trip out to the Fork. It being our first trip out west, we weren't really well stocked with western flies. At one point, Duane lost his last of whatever was working, and he was on the other side of some completely unwadable water. He yelled across wondering if we had any more flies, and my uncle and I told him we had a few left. We then tried to figure out a way to get them to Duane. I found a film canister in my vest and came up with the great idea of throwing it across the stream to my brother. My uncle, not so excited about the idea, reluctantly handed over about 5 flies from his flybox. I put them in the canister with a few small stones to give it some weight. I yelled to Duane that I was going to throw the flies over and try to land them in the still water in front of him, an area about 10' x 20' and about 70' away, and that he should let it splash down and then run in and retrieve it. I carefully aimed and let loose the canister, watching in horror as it flew straight toward the only rock protruding from the still water. It hit the tip of the rock, which was about 6 square inches in size, and the top flew off, scattering the flies and stones all over the water. Duane dove in after them, scrambling around on his hands and knees, but he came up with two soaked and empty arms. My uncle, probably the driest person I've ever met, watched expressionless as the event unfolded, then quietly said, "Well, there goes $10 in flies." I laughed pretty hard, all by myself.
-Shawn
Another funny addendum to that story involved Duane's phone, which I always harass him for carrying on the stream (I hate cell phones, particularly when a call interrupts the serenity and solitude of fishing). He soaked and ruined his phone that day, which I thought was simply God's way of reiterating to him what could be called natural law: "Thou shalt not defile a trout stream with electronic tethers." Instead, though, Duaney learned a whole different lesson, and decided to start carrying his phone inside a zip-lock bag. The next time he took a tumble, I was again with him, and the first words out of his mouth after he resurfaced were, "Glad I've got my cell phone in a zip-lock bag!" Sometime later that day, probably wondering why he hadn't heard from his wife in the previous half-hour, he reached into his vest and pulled out his phone... which was floating in an inch of water inside the zip-lock bag. Good stuff.
Finally, probably the most amusing story from that trip out to the Fork. It being our first trip out west, we weren't really well stocked with western flies. At one point, Duane lost his last of whatever was working, and he was on the other side of some completely unwadable water. He yelled across wondering if we had any more flies, and my uncle and I told him we had a few left. We then tried to figure out a way to get them to Duane. I found a film canister in my vest and came up with the great idea of throwing it across the stream to my brother. My uncle, not so excited about the idea, reluctantly handed over about 5 flies from his flybox. I put them in the canister with a few small stones to give it some weight. I yelled to Duane that I was going to throw the flies over and try to land them in the still water in front of him, an area about 10' x 20' and about 70' away, and that he should let it splash down and then run in and retrieve it. I carefully aimed and let loose the canister, watching in horror as it flew straight toward the only rock protruding from the still water. It hit the tip of the rock, which was about 6 square inches in size, and the top flew off, scattering the flies and stones all over the water. Duane dove in after them, scrambling around on his hands and knees, but he came up with two soaked and empty arms. My uncle, probably the driest person I've ever met, watched expressionless as the event unfolded, then quietly said, "Well, there goes $10 in flies." I laughed pretty hard, all by myself.
-Shawn
Jewelry-Quality Artistic Salmon Flies, by Shawn Davis
www.davisflydesigns.com
www.davisflydesigns.com
Oldredbarn on Nov 14, 2009November 14th, 2009, 5:26 am EST
Well we have had a great deal of fun with this! But there is a serious note. Falling in can be dangerous. We have lost anglers on the Au Sable from time to time. For the most part its an easy wade but there are some holes here and there...The last person to drown was an older guy, he fell somehow into a hole, and wasn't strong enough to right himself.
We unfortunatley lost Datus Proper in a small stream near his home in Montana that he fished all the times. They think he fell and hit his head and that was it.
When I waded the Madison years back I had a guide explain to me what I should try to do if I fell in. Try to get you feet downstream in hopes of getting them down at some point and the force of the river may help to stand you back up.
Two other embarrassing moments.
Once I watched a stonefly flutter out of the sky and land on the surface across the river from me and disappear in a nice swirl. It was too deep between me and the other side to get closer. I came up with the stupid idea of climbing up on some manmade stream structure. I was just about to sail my cast across stream and my foot slipped and went down in between the wood on top of the trout hotel...I was stuck! One leg was almost down to my crouch. I am so glad that when this shit happens to me no one else is around. It was a bit scary for a moment, but I somehow manged to get back up on the top and gingerly climbed back in to the stream.
I have writen about the other scary moment elsewhere on this site. I will try to be brief. I was in the UP and my uncle took me to a beaver pond to see if there were any monster brookies living in it. Again, mister smart guy, decided to wade out and I was casting to rises here and there. I was a good distance from shore and my left foot just dropped to my knee. I realized I was standing on a mat of years and years of dead leaves etc. It was a peat bog kind of thing and I was scared shitless...I looked back at shore to see my uncle waving at me and laughing his ass off. I somehow, very slowly, got my foot out of the muck and nearly tiptoed back...Trying to make myself somehow lighter as I went...
Be careful out there boys!
Spence
We unfortunatley lost Datus Proper in a small stream near his home in Montana that he fished all the times. They think he fell and hit his head and that was it.
When I waded the Madison years back I had a guide explain to me what I should try to do if I fell in. Try to get you feet downstream in hopes of getting them down at some point and the force of the river may help to stand you back up.
Two other embarrassing moments.
Once I watched a stonefly flutter out of the sky and land on the surface across the river from me and disappear in a nice swirl. It was too deep between me and the other side to get closer. I came up with the stupid idea of climbing up on some manmade stream structure. I was just about to sail my cast across stream and my foot slipped and went down in between the wood on top of the trout hotel...I was stuck! One leg was almost down to my crouch. I am so glad that when this shit happens to me no one else is around. It was a bit scary for a moment, but I somehow manged to get back up on the top and gingerly climbed back in to the stream.
I have writen about the other scary moment elsewhere on this site. I will try to be brief. I was in the UP and my uncle took me to a beaver pond to see if there were any monster brookies living in it. Again, mister smart guy, decided to wade out and I was casting to rises here and there. I was a good distance from shore and my left foot just dropped to my knee. I realized I was standing on a mat of years and years of dead leaves etc. It was a peat bog kind of thing and I was scared shitless...I looked back at shore to see my uncle waving at me and laughing his ass off. I somehow, very slowly, got my foot out of the muck and nearly tiptoed back...Trying to make myself somehow lighter as I went...
Be careful out there boys!
Spence
"Even when my best efforts fail it's a satisfying challenge, and that, after all, is the essence of fly fishing." -Chauncy Lively
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
"Envy not the man who lives beside the river, but the man the river flows through." Joseph T Heywood
Shawnny3 on Nov 15, 2009November 15th, 2009, 1:27 am EST
Try to get you feet downstream in hopes of getting them down at some point and the force of the river may help to stand you back up.
This technique also helps keep you from the obvious hazard of going headfirst into rocks.
It is a shame that fishermen die on the stream. Where I come from, there are a lot of really dangerous gorges we often fish and what I think is an even more dangerous place where warm water pours into the lake from a power plant. Lots of people have died in those places, and I know I've had my share of close calls, as well. I think I get wiser with age and do fewer and fewer risky things, but streams can be dangerous places. I hope I never die from being stupid.
We've all heard the stories about guys dying because their waders float them upside-down. Lee Wulff wrote one time about what nonsense he thought that idea was, and being someone who liked a challenge, he decided to put it to the test by tying his belt tight and jumping into deep water from a bridge. He found it quite an easy thing to keep his head and feet up at the same time and even found the float somewhat relaxing, almost like an innertube ride. So that's at least one thing we as fishermen probably don't have to worry about.
-Shawn
Jewelry-Quality Artistic Salmon Flies, by Shawn Davis
www.davisflydesigns.com
www.davisflydesigns.com
Flatstick96 on Nov 16, 2009November 16th, 2009, 7:05 am EST
Shawnny,
I'd forgotten about the film canister incident - I always laugh when I try to imagine what Robert must be thinking whenever he watches us fish...
And you're right, somebody needs to make a waterproof phone.
I'd forgotten about the film canister incident - I always laugh when I try to imagine what Robert must be thinking whenever he watches us fish...
And you're right, somebody needs to make a waterproof phone.
Jmd123 on Nov 24, 2009November 24th, 2009, 7:45 am EST
Though I haven't personally floated my own hat, I once watched my boss go completely submerged, face-first, into the Rifle River one night while he was out fishing with me. I guess I should have mentioned the branch that he tripped over before he reached it...It was one of those things you just can't believe that you saw with your own eyes. One second I'm talking to him and the next he is UNDERWATER. He would have floated his hat, had he been wearing one...Fortunately he forgave me, had a dry set of clothes in his vehicle, and I have worked happily with him for well over 10 years now. And possibly full-time in the future - he is putting in some proposals to get some Obama Great Lakes $$$ for restoration work - which would FINALLY put me back to work! Good thing he forgave me for nearly drowning him...
Jonathon
Jonathon
No matter how big the one you just caught is, there's always a bigger one out there somewhere...
Jmd123 on Nov 24, 2009November 24th, 2009, 11:14 am EST
P.S. If I ever DO float my own hat, somebody downstream will get around a dozen or so free flies because that's where I store them to dry (I use a nice REI mesh-top brimmed hat - the mesh holds flies very well). Of course, the selection will be limited to a few Woolly Buggers, a couple of KBFs, and maybe an Elkhair Caddis or two if somebody gets lucky and I'm dry-flying it that day...
Jonathon
Jonathon
No matter how big the one you just caught is, there's always a bigger one out there somewhere...
JOHNW on Nov 25, 2009November 25th, 2009, 6:56 am EST
Can't say I was responsible for my hat being floated however one day my Dad and I were bass fishing with spinning gear. I'm minding my own business casting to a mid channel hump while dad is banging the bank with a 1-1/2 oz spinnerbait. All of a sudden flash bulbs are exploding behind my eyes and I'm over the gunwhale. Apparently Dad missed a fish and in his hurry to cast back at it forgot to not side arm his cast. THe resulting trajectory placed the spinnerbait against the side of my head (right between my ear and temple), fortunatly I got the lead head part and not the hook point.
The favor was repaid a few weeks later when we were night fishing a different lake I was casting a 6" Jitterbug and got a littl careless with the backcast. All of a sudden I hear Dad yell out "What the hell?" and there 10 feet next to the boat is his hat neatly impaled on the two very large treeble hooks of my plug. Fortuantly the hooks missed his scalp by "THIS MUCH".
As for floating my hat while fly fishing I can't say it has happened now breaking my ankle under the second trestle at teh Little J is another story.
JW
The favor was repaid a few weeks later when we were night fishing a different lake I was casting a 6" Jitterbug and got a littl careless with the backcast. All of a sudden I hear Dad yell out "What the hell?" and there 10 feet next to the boat is his hat neatly impaled on the two very large treeble hooks of my plug. Fortuantly the hooks missed his scalp by "THIS MUCH".
As for floating my hat while fly fishing I can't say it has happened now breaking my ankle under the second trestle at teh Little J is another story.
JW
"old habits are hard to kill once you have gray in your beard" -Old Red Barn
Falsifly on Nov 25, 2009November 25th, 2009, 11:39 am EST
Can’t say that I’ve ever floated my hat, but I have lost my head. And I remember each time very clearly.
- When I first held a fly rod.
- When I caught my first trout.
- When I started tying flies.
- When I purchased my first bamboo.
- When I bought my first vehicle for fishing trips only.
- When I started heading west for a month at a time.
- When my wife left me, vowing never to marry another fisherman.
- When my accountant said my fishing is breaking the bank.
- When I realized I didn’t give a $h!t.
Falsifly
When asked what I just caught that monster on I showed him. He put on his magnifiers and said, "I can't believe they can see that."
When asked what I just caught that monster on I showed him. He put on his magnifiers and said, "I can't believe they can see that."
Bippie on Nov 26, 2009November 26th, 2009, 11:31 am EST
Not personally.... but I observed another fisherman completely submerge many years ago. He had a good size trout on and was moving downstream while fighting the trout. He was concentrating on the fish and wasn't watching where he was going. Down he went, fish on, cigar clenched in his teeth, his hat sitting on top of the water! In a split second he resurfaced directly under his hat.... fish still on and the cigar was still in his teeth!
Jmd123 on Nov 26, 2009November 26th, 2009, 4:09 pm EST
Ah, but was the cigar still LIT???
Jonathon
Jonathon
No matter how big the one you just caught is, there's always a bigger one out there somewhere...
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