Monday, October 11, 2010
Five Favorite Flies
10:42 AM | Posted by
Cassie Designs
Although trout may be caught throughout the year, few months offer as much action for anglers as those preceding the harsh blast of winter. During this time of year all species of trout start to act more aggressive. The brown trout begin staging to spawn, and the rainbow and cutthroat trout begin fattening up in order to survive the winter season. While fishing this special time of the year, I have discovered 5 flies that always seem to produce. These flies include the Foam Beetle, the Royal Wulff, the Elk Hair Caddis, the Bead Head Pheasant Tail, and the Hare’s Ear Nymph.
The Foam Beetle has probably been the most productive dry fly I’ve used during the fall season. During this time of year, fish are less picky. They tend to look for more general fly patterns that imitate a wide variety of insects. The foam beetle fits the bill perfectly. With its visibly segmented body, and iridescent peacock underbelly, the foam beetle can imitate a wide variety of insects. It can be a beetle, a carpenter ant, or even a cricket if tied on a larger hook. The fact that its body is largely made up of foam also gives you the option of using it as a strike indicator for your favorite nymph patterns.
The Royal Wulff is probably THE most well known dry fly on the market today. It has been around for decades and is always a great producer during the fall. It, like the beetle, imitates a wide variety of insects. No matter where you fish, the Royal Wulff will likely be a welcome addition to your fly box. Frequently you may see many different insects hatching off all at once. This is where the Royal Wulff really comes in handy. Instead of trying to find which specific insect the trout are feeding on, tie on the Royal Wulff and cover all your bases.
One of the most abundant hatches throughout the fly fishing season is the caddis fly. From the tiny Micro caddis hatches of the early summer to the giant October Caddis, the elk hair caddis has you covered. The elk hair wing offers superb floatability without sacrificing life-like action. The elk hair actually enhances the action fish desire. When fishing the Elk Hair Caddis, cast up stream as usual but instead of recasting immediately after the fly drifts back to you, let the fly drift past you and down stream. As it flows past, lift your rod and shake it erratically. This causes the caddis to jump and bounce across the surface just like the natural caddis does as it lays eggs. And then brace yourself for some furious strikes!
Although dry fly fishing is fun, sometimes the fish just don’t cooperate. That is when nymph patterns can really turn dead days into producers. I’ve found that these two nymphs will imitate just about every insect found in the river. The Pheasant Tail in its smaller sizes is a terrific mayfly/midge imitation, while in its larger sizes (#10 and #8) it can imitate a stonefly. The Hare’s Ear Nymph fulfills a similar role but the fatter, lighter colored body gives it the added adaptation of imitating a caddis larva as well as a scud.
Ok, so I lied. I’ve actually chosen 6 favorite patterns instead of 5. No fly box can be complete without a few streamer patterns, especially the Bead Head Crystal Bugger. This is by far the most common streamer pattern. In still water situations it is a great imitation of Dragon/Damsel fly nymphs. In rivers it is equally effective. Darker colors such as black and olive allow it to imitate leaches, hellgrammites, and even small baitfish. Just before and after spawning, brown trout instinctively guard their redds and chase any small intruder out of their territory. During the fall, take advantage of the Crystal Bugger to elicit some fierce strikes from the territorial brown trout.
If you haven’t used them yet, give these flies a try this fall. I’m sure you’ll be impressed!
Tight lines!
Cody Kempton
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Monday, October 4, 2010
DON'T TRY TO BUFFALO YOUR WIFE!
The Nekid Fisherman
The fall bow hunt just started in Utah, so many anglers’ thoughts turn to a nice venison stew or an elk steak. I fell prey to that delusion a few years ago and committed the unforgivable mistake of trying to sneak some wild game meat onto my wife’s plate without telling her. Since she rarely reads our fly fishing newsletter, I think I can avoid any additional fallout when I tell you MY side of the story. All I ask is that you keep a secret.
My wife used to eat the pheasants I hunted in Iowa. She eagerly eats the fish I bring home. And she’s been known to even try rabbit and squirrel. So when we moved to Utah and I began hunting deer and elk, I thought she would at least try some. Nope. Not Dave’s moose meat. Not his caribou. Not even her husband’s hard-won elk meat. No wild game. Period.
So I thought (which is where most wayward actions arise) I’ll cook some buffalo, since it is a great game meat that closely resembles beef. Buffalo steaks! That’s the ticket!
So I brought home some incredible buffalo steaks. I grilled them to perfection. And we sat down for a wonderful dinner. She loved the meat. In fact, she enjoyed nearly every bite—every bite except the last three left on her plate. That was when I said, “And at least it isn’t elk.” I couldn’t keep my trap closed.
She put her fork down beside her plate and said, “It’s not elk.” She said it in a way that suggested it better not be elk. So I quickly assured her it wasn’t elk. And then I realize that I’m in it pretty deep by now. She said, “What is it?” as she fondled her steak knife. I have never been a very good liar, so I admitted that it was buffalo. Now both of her elbows went on the table, but at least she hadn't started gesturing with her steak knife. She said, “It’s beef.” This in a way that said IT BETTER BE BEEF!
What an ethical dilemma! I could either tell her the truth or tell her the truth that she wanted to hear. Being a coward at heart, I chose the latter. I agreed with her and said it was beef. For just a nano-second, the tension left her body. Whew! That was close, I thought.
But the brief moment of possible reprieve passed and she continued, “It’s not beef, is it?” No, I admitted, it’s really buffalo. So she got both sides of the truth anyway. And, as it turned out, it didn’t seem to make her feel any better getting the whole truth. Without a word, she picked up her plate, went to the kitchen sink, disposed of those last three wonderful morsels of buffalo, and went to her office.
The rest of the evening passed rather slowly and quietly. I think it was partly because she gave me so much time to think about what I had done and partly because I tend to think pretty slowly when I’ve done something REALLY BAD. To this day I believe the entire evening would have gone better if I’d told her I’d had an affair with a buffalo rather than sneaking buffalo steak onto her plate.
The good news is that we have repaired the damage that the buffalo caused that night. And she showed her spirit by getting me to eat some chili that a friend had made. After I had eaten the chili, she sprang it on me: IT WAS MADE WITH ELK! I think she wanted me to learn some empathy by getting my reaction when somebody surprised me with wild game meat. Unfortunately, her lesson was lost on me; the chili was excellent!
The Nekid Fisherman
Jim Croce was right: You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind; you don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger and you don't mess around with Jim. Actually, he was only 80% right because I learned you also don’t do some things without telling your wife.
The fall bow hunt just started in Utah, so many anglers’ thoughts turn to a nice venison stew or an elk steak. I fell prey to that delusion a few years ago and committed the unforgivable mistake of trying to sneak some wild game meat onto my wife’s plate without telling her. Since she rarely reads our fly fishing newsletter, I think I can avoid any additional fallout when I tell you MY side of the story. All I ask is that you keep a secret.
My wife used to eat the pheasants I hunted in Iowa. She eagerly eats the fish I bring home. And she’s been known to even try rabbit and squirrel. So when we moved to Utah and I began hunting deer and elk, I thought she would at least try some. Nope. Not Dave’s moose meat. Not his caribou. Not even her husband’s hard-won elk meat. No wild game. Period.
So I thought (which is where most wayward actions arise) I’ll cook some buffalo, since it is a great game meat that closely resembles beef. Buffalo steaks! That’s the ticket!
So I brought home some incredible buffalo steaks. I grilled them to perfection. And we sat down for a wonderful dinner. She loved the meat. In fact, she enjoyed nearly every bite—every bite except the last three left on her plate. That was when I said, “And at least it isn’t elk.” I couldn’t keep my trap closed.
She put her fork down beside her plate and said, “It’s not elk.” She said it in a way that suggested it better not be elk. So I quickly assured her it wasn’t elk. And then I realize that I’m in it pretty deep by now. She said, “What is it?” as she fondled her steak knife. I have never been a very good liar, so I admitted that it was buffalo. Now both of her elbows went on the table, but at least she hadn't started gesturing with her steak knife. She said, “It’s beef.” This in a way that said IT BETTER BE BEEF!
What an ethical dilemma! I could either tell her the truth or tell her the truth that she wanted to hear. Being a coward at heart, I chose the latter. I agreed with her and said it was beef. For just a nano-second, the tension left her body. Whew! That was close, I thought.
But the brief moment of possible reprieve passed and she continued, “It’s not beef, is it?” No, I admitted, it’s really buffalo. So she got both sides of the truth anyway. And, as it turned out, it didn’t seem to make her feel any better getting the whole truth. Without a word, she picked up her plate, went to the kitchen sink, disposed of those last three wonderful morsels of buffalo, and went to her office.
The rest of the evening passed rather slowly and quietly. I think it was partly because she gave me so much time to think about what I had done and partly because I tend to think pretty slowly when I’ve done something REALLY BAD. To this day I believe the entire evening would have gone better if I’d told her I’d had an affair with a buffalo rather than sneaking buffalo steak onto her plate.
The good news is that we have repaired the damage that the buffalo caused that night. And she showed her spirit by getting me to eat some chili that a friend had made. After I had eaten the chili, she sprang it on me: IT WAS MADE WITH ELK! I think she wanted me to learn some empathy by getting my reaction when somebody surprised me with wild game meat. Unfortunately, her lesson was lost on me; the chili was excellent!
The Nekid Fisherman
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