A Return to the Grand Canyon

A week ago I found myself standing knee deep in the cold, clear flow of Bright Angel Creek where it meets the mighty Colorado River. It had been too long since I'd been there, fly rod in hand, watching the morning light illuminate the surrounding temples and canyon walls.

On this trip I decided to focus primarily on fishing the Colorado River, rather than Bright Angel Creek. I didn't see the need to engender the frustration and sentiment that was sure to surface with a stroll down memory lane. I'll always have fond memories of fishing the creek, but memories are about all that is left after ten-plus years of National Park Service trout-reduction efforts have devastated the creek's fishery. Enough on that subject.

With the exception of the lower Marble Canyon reach, the Colorado River is still teeming with trout, primarily rainbows that rarely see a fly. The fishing was good, with a couple of dozen rainbows and a brown or two caught. Flannelmouth suckers kept our rods bent between trout, and fought hard in the strong current. San Juan worms were by far the top producing fly; burnt orange and red took top honors. Pink eggs were effective, and a couple of fish took a dead-drifted zonker. I spent hours methodically working the soft water on river right from Boat Beach to Silver Bridge with a 200-grain sinking line and a variety of streamer patterns, hoping all the while for a big brown, but didn't connect with a single fish - hopefully the trophy-size browns haven't all succumbed to the weir.

The river began to color up the second morning of the trip, and was pea-green by early afternoon. After getting home and looking at the flow charts, the reason was clear... the Little Colorado River had inexplicably spiked by 200 cfs on the 19th... it doesn't take much for it to muddy the Colorado through the Grand Canyon.

As the trip drew to a close, I continued to fish in the increasingly muddy Colorado, fishing harder than I should have. It was as if I was desperately searching for something lost.

Hiking into the Grand Canyon is an incredible experience in and of itself, the fishing is just the proverbial icing on the cake. For those who experienced Bright Angel Creek's trout fishery at its best, it can be difficult to let go of the past. Yet the canyon hasn't changed. I still wonder and marvel at it, I find inspiration from it. I am humbled by it. I will always return to the canyon, but I foresee the day when I will no longer pack along a fly rod, choosing instead to remember what was and appreciate all that is.

Sign of the times: A recent NPS photo of a weir-caught BA Creek brown.

The confluence of BA Creek and the Colorado River.

250+ cfs = clarity issues through the Grand Canyon.

Extreme daily flow fluctuations create issues for wading anglers.

Bill Jordan hooked up with a Colorado River rainbow trout.

The Colorado River offers good numbers of 12-16" rainbows.

The Colorado River as viewed from Silver Bridge near Phantom Ranch at approx. 8,500 cfs.

This one is for you, Matt. 

Feast & Famine

I was recently amazed to witness a brown hammer a streamer, only to bring the trout to hand and find the tail of a sculpin protruding from its maw. The sculpin was partially decomposed, and looked like it had been in there for quite some time. Despite having a mouthful, we suspected the trout was starving. It appeared that he'd bitten off more than he could chew. Or maybe it would've all worked itself out in the end. None the less we intervened and carefully removed the sculpin... all seven inches of it! Evidence that huge sculpin patterns have their place.

Lady's First

So proud.

That first trout on a fly is a special one. I remember mine... late 90's... Oak Creek, AZ... the pool across from Don Hoel's - a day I'll not soon forget thanks to a stocker rainbow that couldn't resist an olive bugger.

I've also been fortunate to have lent a helping hand with numerous first catches. Whether it's a significant other, relative, friend, client, or even an in-law, coaching someone to their first fly-caught fish is typically a rewarding experience.

An angler's reaction to hooking up for the first time is often a telling one. When a child's eyes light up as a hooked rainbow leaps out of the water, or when an old man lets out a celebratory whoop after releasing a wild brown, you can bet that they'll be anglers for the rest of their days.

Over the weekend I talked my lady into getting out on the water for a few hours. She had fly fished a couple of times before, most recently last fall when I guided her to her first fish on a fly, a whitefish. Of course that didn't really count, and somehow she knew it, she didn't even want her picture taken with the lowly salmonid. And so on Friday with temperatures in the 50's we dusted off my WaterMaster and embarked on a short float in search of a Gallatin River trout.  A classic winter run produced several browns, including a memorable, photo-worthy first catch. 

Smith River Permits

The lottery drawing results for 2013 Smith River float permits were just made available by Montana Fish, Wildlife, and Parks. Results can be viewed at: https://app.mt.gov/Als/Index

The 59-mile Smith River float is a trip that all anglers should experience at least once. The Smith is a fickle river. Depending upon the conditions that floaters encounter, it can be the trip of a lifetime, or a serious challenge. Permits for April and July are relatively easy to acquire, but there's good reason for that: the possibility of encountering winter weather, and low water, respectively. Permits for May and June are tough to come by, their popularity stemming from cushy floating conditions (but not necessarily the best fishing conditions). All things considered, I'll take my chances in April.

Didn't draw a permit? Don't despair, any remaining or cancelled permits can be requested by calling 406.454.5861. And there's always the possibility of a fall float, a time when boaters can self-register at Camp Baker, no prearrangement necessary - just be sure to monitor river levels to ensure that there is enough water to float your boat.

July on the Smith...

April on the Smith...

Winter Wanderings

Despite the fact that I'm now working at one of the fly fishing industry's preeminent businesses, my days of being able to drop everything and go fishing on a random forty-five degree weekday afternoon in February are over - at least for the time being.

Over the past few years I came to enjoy winter fishing - the solitude, the scenery, and the often productive bite. I became accustomed to spending upwards of thirty days on the water from December through March. This year my winter wanderings have been limited to Saturdays and Sundays, both if I'm lucky - neither if the weather takes a turn for the worse or if other interests take priority.

None the less, I've been getting out a bit - I hope that you have too.

"The East" has been a staple for me this winter.

The upper Madison, and a shot at winter risers.

We covered some water - Reynolds to $3.

Love it or hate it, pink produces.

Some of those "other interests" I spoke of.

Bro Code

Here I am, hooked up in your backwater, and damn if it isn't a fine catch.

The rise form had been impossible to miss, we both saw it. You were quick to call dibs - fair enough. I stood idly by and watched from the shadows as you waded into casting range, loosed your line, and launched a high-riding dry into the tricky currents. I was pulling for you. It looked promising, but the rise forms deceived you.

You wanted it, needed it, more than I could have known. You seemingly convinced yourself that she just needed a little time, or was playing hard to get. Your persistence was impressive, but with each passing drift it became increasingly obvious that you weren't going to connect. As you angrily stomped out of the run, nearly ruining my chances in the process, I confidently waded in and connected on the first cast. She was on emergers, not duns.

It's never easy watching a buddy hook up where you couldn't. Don't hate, congratulate!

Upon seeing me hooked up, a wave of envy overtook you. I can't say that I was surprised, but I was disappointed. Did you expect me to pass on the opportunity? I didn't think you needed such coddling. If the tables had been turned, I'd have encouraged you to take a shot, and I'd have celebrated your success. I expected the same from you, bro.

Keep your head up, buddy, after all there are plenty of fish.

Ash Fork Bass

Bass and frogs, never a bad combination.

It's not going to produce the next state-record bass, but the largemouth fishery known as Stone Dam in north-central Arizona is a cool destination for fly rodders.

I was strolling down memory lane - going through old photos and came upon images from Stone Dam. I first fished it when I was 16 or 17, driving over from Kingman to spend long summer days on the water with a buddy. During college I'd head west to fish the lake when I wanted a change of pace from small stream trout fishing.

The little 5-acre impoundment rarely disappointed. Its feisty bass were generally more than willing to crush poppers on summer evenings. Streamers took plenty of fish the rest of the time. One to two pounds, that was about it, but if they were coming with regularity that was good enough for me.

Nearly fifteen years ago...

Some of the locals got a little bent out of shape when AZ Highways ran a short feature on the lake in the late 90's, but their concern was for naught. The lake is an overlooked, out-of-the-way destination that was soon forgotten again.

Check it out the next time that you're traveling I-40 near Ash Fork, AZ - just don't tell the locals I sent you.

Top Ten

I spent some time this afternoon compiling a list of the top ten flies that I would recommend for Arizona anglers. The list will find its way into the next printing of Flyfisher's Guide to Arizona. I found it challenging to whittle the list down to ten flies to cover the majority of situations that an angler will see. I really wanted to include the likes of Rohmer's Diamond Hair Minnow, or a good hellgramite imitation, or the X-Caddis, or an adult damselfly pattern... the list goes on, but there just wasn't room for anything too specialized.

For those of you who won't have the pleasure of flipping through the pages of the aforementioned guidebook, here is a look at my top ten flies for AZ (in no specific order).

1) Cicada - Lee's Ferry has a productive summer bite, as do many of the Mogollon Rim waters. If you hit it right, this terrestrial's presence offers explosive topwater fishing with huge dries. The specific pattern isn't usually too important, think black foam, rubber legs, and elk hair.

2) Flying Ant - An often overlooked, but highly productive terrestrial. I like the offerings from the guys at Dry Fly Innovations... Bloom's produces nicely too. Apache trout love them, they're a must have if you ever make it to Christmas Tree Lake or the W. Fork of the Black.

3) Parachute Adams - AZ isn't blessed with prolific mayfly hatches, but it does get some - the para-Adams will cover those situations and works well for prospecting during non-hatch times.

4) Stimulator - Where doesn't it work? Caddis, stoneflies (AZ has the big bugs, but not many), hoppers, moths... general attractiveness.

5) Lightning Bug - It was tough to pick the LB over the Pheasant Tail, but I wanted to mix it up a bit, and the PT's flashier counterpart is awesome. A soft hackle version is deadly, as is purple... as is small, I like it in an 18.

6) Hare's Ear - It's just plain buggy. I like it in black and olive as well.

7) Thread Midge - Lee's Ferry. And everywhere else that trout swim.The Zebra Midge is famous, but the variations are endless, subtle, but endless.

8) Crayfish - Specifically, the Huz-Ur-Daddy pattern, but I mostly just wanted to stress the importance of crayfish in AZ. Rust colored is good, but so too are olive, tan, and blueish... Crayfish have probably connected AZ anglers with more big browns than any other type of fly.

9) Clouser - It's equally at home on AZ's small trout streams and desert bass lakes... it will move big browns, big smallmouth...

10) San Juan Worm - The bottom line is that it catches trout, lots of them. Fish it proudly, and try pink.

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11) Little Round Ball of Pink Yarn - I've already compromised my reputation by including the worm so the egg didn't crack my top ten... and besides, we're not talking about what is in my box, just what I recommend for yours.

The Next Bend

"You need to get your passion back, guy."

That was the Monday morning remark of a co-worker of mine after telling her that I hadn't fished over the weekend. She seemed rather appalled. I laughed it off, but I knew she was right.

Post-funk brown from new water. Photo by Ben Pierce.

Perhaps I was suffering from a bit of post guide-season burnout. Maybe I was depressed about my best fishing buddy moving away. My new weekend-warrior status certainly wasn't helping things any. Whatever it was, my funk was short-lived, but real enough to have me thinking about what exactly I love so much about fly fishing.

A couple of recent solo outings were enjoyable, but they were a great reminder of just how much I enjoy the camaraderie of fellow anglers. Some of my best friendships have been forged on the water, so there's that.

The never-ending learning curve of fly fishing holds great appeal. The time spent communing and connecting with Ma Nature, in some of her most beautiful haunts is certainly a factor. But perhaps more than anything else, I'm realizing that my continued interest in fly fishing is rooted largely in exploration of new water.

There's a lot to explore out there.

I'll always enjoy fishing my home waters, whose curves are as familiar as those of a longtime lover. But it's the allure of the new and the unknown that truly calls to me. It's the desire to discover what is around the next bend, so to speak, that fuels my passion.

Does It Really Matter?

Matching the hatch. Does it begin with proper insect identification?

I awoke this morning to find overcast skies and mayfly duns outside of my little riverside studio.

I pulled out my copy of Western Mayfly Hatches (which I highly recommend) in an effort to identify this particular mayfly species.

As best I can determine, the bug in question is the Mahogany Dun. But does it really matter what species it is? A size 14 para-Adams would certainly take fish during this hatch.

This is a topic that a friend and I go round and round about. Generally speaking he could care less about what specific species of mayfly is hatching. His mayfly box consists of nothing but Adams in sizes 12-20 and a few sparkle duns for special occasions (ie: finicky flat-water trout). During a mayfly emergence he simply matches up the fly size to the naturals and catches more fish than most. My mayfly box on the other hand is stuffed with specific patterns for baetis, March browns, green drakes, gray drakes, PMDs, and such.

My take on the topic is that it does matter - at least in certain places and at certain times. What are your thoughts?