Hexagenia Limbata

With the winter trout opener just days away I probably should be padding the nymph box with winter flies (i.e. bead-head princes, hare's ears, pheasant tails, scuds, copper johns, brassies, serendipities, etc.). But, as it goes in fly-tying, once you're in a groove you got to keep running with it. And, that groove today happens to be with hex nymphs.

 Maybe it's the sub-zero temps outside that have me thinking about warm, still, late afternoons and evenings in June/July--the time of year when hex duns are fluttering about and landing on your neck, arms, hat brim, boat gunnels, wherever. When your fishing buddy turns to you and you both see each other covered in duns and laugh at the absurdness of it all. This is when whitefish and tullibee rise with reckless abandon in our northern lakes--leaving the depths, that normally conceal them, to gorge on the mega hatch. The "hex", North America's largest mayfly, starts emerging when the sun is setting on the horizon--a big orange ball sinking behind the pine studded islands. Once it goes down--and it's pitch black--all that's heard are loons, clacking insect wings past your ear, creatures of the night, and fish rises... lots of them. Aside from drawing whitefish and tullibee, the hatch tempts the thought of swimming a hex nymph pattern across the windy side of any shallow reef exposed to the muddy main lake basin for walleyes. An uncommon quarry on fly rod, this time of year can make it more common than ever to nab some 'eyes on fly. But, more practically, the hex hatch brings on the thought of our browns, brookies, and rainbows going absolutely nuts for hex patterns in June and July.

A proven abstract pattern for me is a slight modification to the Bear's Hex Nymph. And these are what I'm cranking out on the Renzetti this morning.  I'll typically fish these on a full sinking line and slowly kick my float tube through the fish.  The action can be fast.

You can tie the fly from the following:

• Hook:  Tiemco TMC 200R, Size 8
• Thread:  Sulphur 
• Tail:  Three gray ostrich herl tips
• Rib:  Gray ostrich herl, over-wrapped with copper wire
• Abdomen:  Sulphur dubbing
• Gills:  Filoplume tied on top
• Wing Case:  Brown turkey
• Hackle:  Brown hen palmered (grouse soft hackle as alternate)
• Thorax:  Tan dubbing
• Eyes:  Black plastic
• Head:  Form with thread (keep small and let the eyes do the talking)  

To see some realistic hexagenia limbata duns, check out this truly amazing display of fly-tying:  http://www.grahamowengallery.com/fishing/fly-tying/realistic_hex_mayfly.html

Itu's Bonefish - EcoTourism at Work

The sportfishing industry removes Itu from his traditional commercial netting operation and trains him as a bonefishing guide--seeing this the way to preserve the small (but world class) Aitutaki bonefish fishery and sustain the local socio-economics. SIP-Films: "From selling five Bonefish for $20 dollars, Itu now runs a successful catch and release guiding business. He has gone on to run two flats skiffs and employs his two brothers, Tia and Rua. This year they have advance bookings of more than 100 days."

Merry Christmas!

Fly fishing beautiful Christmas Island... Enjoy.

Fly Away - Kiritimati (official trailer) from SIP-films on Vimeo.

Stocking Stuffer - Stillwater Trout Flies

Shhhhh.... somebody is getting a new fly box full of stillwater trout flies for Christmas.  Saturday was a busy day tying all these and putting the assortment together.  Cliff's "Bugger Barn" is an excellent fly box to host them in--well designed, roomy, and with a great friction fit system for attaching flies.

 Left leaf:  Purple Woolly Buggers - Size 6, Black Woolly Buggers - Size 6, Red Woolly Buggers - Size 10.
Right leaf:  Red Whiskey Fly (marabou substituted for bucktail) - Size 10, Orange Whiskey Fly (marabou substituted for bucktail) - Size 10, Bear's Hex Nymphs - Size 10, Olive Damsel Fly Nymphs - Size 10, Cat's Whisker - Size 10  

The Sparrow Nymph

I just tied another Sparrow Nymph for the fly box.  This has become a nice fly in size 6 for a number of species here in the Midwest:  stillwater rainbow trout during the summer hex hatch, Great Lakes steelhead, and river carp to name a few.  For stillwater trout, I like to fish the traditional tie on a full sinking line to mimic the active hexagenia limbata nymphs swimming around during the June/July hatches.  This has led to some banner days when trout wouldn't go near a Woolly Bugger.  For steelhead, I like to tie it "low water" style--stripped down versions barely resembling the original pattern--on heavy size 6 salmon hooks.  Dead drifts and deep broadsides seem to be the ticket when using it on steelhead.  The key here is to get it to the fish which means use less material (i.e. floss instead of dubbing, sparser hackle, etc.), a heavy hook, and no line drag when fishing.  The soft materials used to make the fly will undulate in the current, adding all the action you'll need.  But, the Sparrow Nymph can't be featured without mentioning it as a valid carp fly.  I caught my first carp on fly using a low-water style Sparrow and will never forget it.  The powerful fight that 28-inch golden ghost gave on my 8-weight had me tying Sparrows for a week!      



If you decide to tie it, one of the great features of this fly is it's simplicity.  Traditionally, it's only tied from two materials:  dubbing and pheasant. However, in the tie above I've strayed from the original tie by doing a few things differently.  Obviously, you'll see I've added a gold bead head to get the fly to sink better--it also seems to improve the fly's profile in the water. Secondly, I added gold ribbing, which gives a component of flash and increased visibility for fishing our large rivers where water clarity isn't as good.  I could see this adding to its effectiveness as a smallmouth bass fly, too.  Thirdly, I've substituted Spruce Grouse for the traditional pheasant.  Early in my fly-tying career I received sage advice, "Flies tied from materials indigenous to where you are fishing them always seem to out-fish flies tied from other materials."  I've tested this philosophy over the years and it seems accurate... not sure why but it works.  And, it makes the fly more meaningful and fun to fish.  So each fall grouse season, I'll check my grouse feather reserves at the fly tying bench before heading to the uplands and restock if needed.  Hen spruce grouse seems to work best and better than ruffed grouse for some reason.

Copper Johns

December is a good month to go on a fly tying binge.  The winter trout season starts first of the year and it's mostly nymph fishing.  So it's no surprise I've been tying up nymphs this week.  Here's a small batch of size 16 Copper Johns I just cranked out.  I'll typically use these as point flies with a midge imitation as the dropper.  Dead-drift them thru a pool and watch out!

Permit of the North

As I look back on the year there is one fish that really was a surprise.  Never expected it.  Never intended to go after it.  I discovered it purely by accident and had never caught it on fly before.  It started in the spring when I stumbled upon a significant carp run in a nondescript creek feeding a major river system.  I was out shooting wildlife photography and thought "Hmmmmm, maybe I should swap out the camera for my 8 weight...."  It didn't take long, and I was hiking into that creek nearly every evening after work enjoying a couple hours of complete solitude casting to double digit sized fish (that's in pounds not inches).  The stress from the office melted away each night and with each double haul on that little spot.  I ended up catching heavy bodied pre-spawn carp between 25-30 inches long.  The 8 weight got its work out.  It was absolutely thrilling and I became a carp nut, fine-tuning my nymph patterns and really getting into it.    But then, the carp moved onto their spawning grounds in the marsh at the headwaters of the creek.  They were gone.  I still needed my fix. "What am I going to do now?"

I kept my routine of hiking into the creek so long as the water was high and the creek could conceal fish.   There were a couple of slow evenings; and, often the highlight was the hike back out seeing deer emerging from the cattails for a night of nibbling fresh green sedge shoots.  One time, I enjoying a nice full moon on the hike out and the sound of an owl hooting along the marsh.  But no carp.  Still, I kept going.  I thought, "Well, it sure is relaxing... and I can always use the casting practice... and it's a good hike.... need the exercise."

And then the next time I visited the creek it happened.  Still no carp in the pool but there were swirls and rises along the margins. On occasion, some minnows would skip out of the water in a desperate attempt to evade a predator and live another moment.   Something is in here.  So, I tied on a large flashy black rubber-legged critter and carefully cast along the margins.  The fly hit the water and I began stripping it in using short erratic strips.  About five feet into it and the fly stopped.  I strip-striked.  Yep, fish.  Then, I set the hook.  "What the hell do I have?"  The fish stayed deep and swam from the margins to the middle of the pool.  Slow and deliberate.  It pulled hard.  Very hard.  Three feet in.... three feet back out.  It swam in circles.  It stayed deep.  It would almost come up and then there would be a boil on the surface and it would go back down.  The pool was in the shadows and looked like motor oil, black and slick.  The fish surged back and forth, nothing flashy, but pulling hard all the time.  It had no quit.  Constant, deliberate, motion.  Defiant.  This wasn't a carp.  It wasn't a pike.  Definitely not a bass.  Finally, the black surface was pierced by a white splash and the fish had finally come up and shown itself.  Still, what is it?  It had fought hard.  This will be interesting.

After some coaxing, the fish finally turned on its side splashing once in a while.  It mostly had conceded. And the splashes were more obligatory than defiance--so no one would think it was a quitter.   I walked to the bank, raised my fly rod as high as I could, steered it in, and slipped my hand under its belly.  It was tall and as I lifted it out of the water it rolled over on its side in my hand, its back propped against the inside of my forearm to hold it upright.  Draped, head and tail still in the water.  I looked at it puzzled and impressed.  Like "Who are you?"  I lifted the fish out of the water, it's gills pumping and water dripping off its chin.  It's eye looking down back at the water.  I walked a few steps back with it to a nice patch of grass.   Here, I could set the fish down and admire it quickly before putting it back. It was a freshwater drum.  An impressive one.  Nothing huge like they can get.  Not a thirty pounder.  But, it was over 20 inches by just a bit.  It's sides were silver and its head a pearly color.  It's eyes looked droopy like it hadn't gotten enough sleep.  But, it's form was reminiscent of a permit.  I smiled.  A new one. I looked around thinking there might be someone standing there to comment.  No one.  Still wearing a smile, I cradled the fish, and walked it back creekside.   I lowered down to the water, gently dunked the fish, and brought it back up to take a last look.  Submerging the fish like that refreshed it.  It's color looked better.  It was happy.  Water was dripping off it.  Then, I lowered it into the water again.  I held it there.  Gills pumping.  It twitched.  I could feel the muscles tense on its tall back.  The tail pumped slowly side to side.  And it swam deliberately out of my hands and into the dark water.

            

"Eat More Lakers"

I remember in the early '90s heading down to West Thumb on Yellowstone Lake and float tubing for some really nice native cuts.  The kind of fish that exist in dreams.  National treasures and symbols of the park and American West.  One particular fish broke me off just before dark--with the backdrop of a burning forest fire illuminating the horizon--and it haunts me to this day.  But unfortunately, somehow (?!) non-indiginous lake trout made their way into the lake and they're going crazy eating up everything including cutthroats...  Situation critical.  Find out more by clicking link.
Eat More Lakers // Drake Fly Fishing Magazine

New Smallie Fly

I think most fly-tiers have their "scrap flies"... unique flies developed from the trimmings and leftovers of tying more conventional patterns.  Some anglers keep these flies for casting into precarious lies where a good chance of loosing a fly to vegetation or snags exist.  Others, simply look at their "tying scraps" as a creative challenge to produce something freaky.  Recently over Thanksgiving Holiday, I was mass producing smallmouth bass flies and saw an opportunity in the leftovers (no, not those leftovers).

So, here makes its debut...

The fly goes unnamed but someone did mention a striking resemblance to someone (something?)...

Stay tuned to see if any smallies were game for a chewy snack!

Winter Steelhead

20 degrees F. for the high today... and the cold weather definitely has me dreaming of winter angling destinations.  Unfortunately, I had to run across this winter steelhead vid from Patagonia to scratch the itch.  Masochism, yes, but when it works it is so unbelievably freaking rewarding.

One in Winter from ryan peterson on Vimeo.

Spey Rods + Swans on 'Ole Miss

The cold weather has hit here in the midwest.  Many lakes are starting to freeze forcing anglers to either slow down presentations or find moving water... or both.  Stream trout season is closed until early winter season starts in another month.  Options are limited.  The weekend found me on the upper Mississippi with a 7wt. spey rod practicing double speys and snake rolls.  On occasion, a deep broadside or swung streamer would bring a smallmouth bass from the deeper runs... leaving the slow moving pools to the bait fisherman.  Fish in the slightly faster water were small (10-13 inches) but enough to provide action and much needed casting practice.

          
To my amazement the run I was fishing was briefly interrupted by a pair of passing Trumpeter swans.  I remember just a couple decades ago wildlife managers taking swan eggs from Montana birds and bringing them here to Minnesota.  The birds are now becoming common site.

Learn more about the trumpeter swans' comeback by visiting The Trumpeter Swan Society webpage.