Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Do you love your country?

From The Worley-Bugger

"As Chinook smolts migrate from the Lower Yakima, thousands, yes thousands of Smallmouth Bass will invade approximately (15) fifteen miles of the Lower Yakima River for the feeding frenzy of the spring."

Them smallies is probly commies too so get out there and give 'em hell!

Monday, February 26, 2007

An Old Timey Public Service Announcement

via Moldy Chum

The Terrifying Toothpick Fish

"Unconcerned with the host's panicked thrashing, the firmly anchored parasite immediately nibbles a hole in a nearby artery with its needle-like teeth, feasting upon the bounty that gushes forth."

Needless to say a species like this could wipe out Washington State's wild carp population in just a few years. It could be the worst thing for the carp fishery since before there was a carp fishery.
Gentleman please, please make sure to check your urethra before wading the local carp flats if you have recently traveled from the Amazon.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Rained Out on the Hoh

Woke up late, ate breakfast and broke down camp. The mainstream Hoh was too high and off color after a night of rainfall. .
Drove to the South Fork. High and fast, decent color so we fished a few runs. No luck.
The breakfast sandwiches were the highlight of the trip.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Marabou Prawn

I've yet to fish this pattern but already its old timey.

hook: TMC 202 SP
tail: egg shell pink marabou
rib: orange schlappen
body: pale creamy shimp dub
wing: flame bright marabou
collar: red schlappen

Friday, February 16, 2007

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Moving Water

Marking time on the local river. No fish yet, will advise.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Fish & Game

Bird Hunting Trout Fisher?

After reading BTF's steelheading report over at Voluntary Beatdown I got to thinking about why I like trout fishing so much. One reason is because I catch fish when I go trout fishing. I rarely catch anything when I go steelheading although there is a chance to land the fish of a lifetime. They're two different sports that speak almost the same language so its easy to compare one to the other. If fly fishing for steelhead and trout were countries one would be Spain and the other would be Portugal.

I guess that makes carpin' the Basque Country.

Makes me think of hunting, some dudes like to shoot big game while other's prefer to shoot birds, lots of birds. That's why I've devised this here comparison chart, the Flytimes If Fishing Were Hunting Chart.

Chinook = Moose
Coho = White Tail
Chum = Wild Boar
Pink = Bunny

Steelhead = Elk

Cutthroat = Quail
Rainbow = Pheasant
Brown = Hungarian Partridge
Big Brown = Chukkar
Big Bull = Turkey
Brookie = Dove

Largemouth = Canada Goose
Smallies = Mallards

Carp = Dumpster Diving Black Bear

Ideas, suggestions, bitches, gripes or complaints? Please comment.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Go Ugly Early or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying 'Cause This Fly is the Bomb!

Peacock Skwala Stimmy

hook: TMC 200R #10
tail: deer hair
aft hackle: brown saddle
body: peacock herl
wing: deer hair
fore hackle: grizzly saddle
thorax: yellow Superfine dubbing

Those winter steelies better get with the program. I'm giving them one more month to start biting before I retreat back to the trout streams.
Sometime in early March the skwala stoneflies start hatching. Couple that hatch with a staunch blue wing olive emergence and you got some of the best trout fishing of the year.
This here skwala fly is my most productive pattern. I have tried to tie more complicated and convoluted imitations but I keep coming back to this one. An oldy but goody to be sure but the secret to getting the most out next month's skwala hatch is to get on it before everyone else. The homestream gets crowded and after seeing 10,000 or so skwala imitations the trouts get a little weary of big an hairy flies.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Clear Water

Today I went fishing and all I have to show for it is this lousy picture of a river that is bereft of steelhead.

Monday, February 05, 2007

Badasss Black Blogs

Is there a correlation between Thee Originoo Trouthole's Ass Hooked Whitey and the recent spate of other black handed fly fishing blogs? Has AHW gone forth and multiplied, polluting the blogosphere with his spawn? Should I dip my computer in a 10:1 bleach solution before visting other fly fishing blogs to avoid spreading some of that "badass lierary style" as if it were so many mud snails? Sadly it appears to be too late.
No colors any more...
Voluntary Beatdown
Sir Jackson Throws Pretty Loops
Teh Windknot's Garden of Earthly Delights
Wet Boots
Chasing Silver
Rotten Spawn Sacs, Tattered Flies And Leaky Waders

Friday, February 02, 2007

Another piece in the puzzle.

Trout Underground shows us the big picture.
"Come back Whitey, come back!"

Jay J, King of Sparta, Catcher of Steelhead, HMFFIC.

I've seen some unsettling things in my days. But after Chet and I pulled up to Jay's house in Vancouver I thought I'd seen it all.
We're talking about Vancouver, WA here. Not the glittering metropolis that is Vancouver, BC. There are no sky scraping condos and office buildings here. No Chinatown, Gas Town, street vendors, ethnic restaurants, discos, clubs, bars or taverns. Well there were bars and taverns but being so close to Oregon the wait staff doesn't figure on any tips so they cut back their service accordingly. I had to get in a long line just to order a beer. Like I said too close to Oregon.
Back at Jay's house: Me and Chet had just pulled up. We haven't even got out of the rig yet and the front door bursts open and out jumps a half naked Filipino. Wearing only a red cape and capilene loincloth Jay wields in one hand a broken half of a 14 ft spey rod in the other hand a garbage can lid. Spear and shield.
"THIS IS SPARTA!" he commands.
Yep, Jays house. Hi Jay, this is my pal Chet.
An hour later we're in a neighborhood bar throwing 'em back and telling war stories. Before we're even half drunk Jay has invited us back for a dozen fishing trips. After a while Gamby joins us. We spend the next hour trying to talk Gamby into going fishing with us tomorrow. He can't, spousal maintenance.
Back at Jay's house, or Sparta as he would have us call it, we drink a few more beers. His wife is there too and actually seems tolerant of her husband and his guests, what a woman. We're set to meet Steelhead Mike at 0530hrs. Jay calls him, informs him of our current state and gets a one hour extension.
I don't even hear him knock. It's still dark out and frost rings the living room window. But this is Sparta and these guys are hardcore steelheaders so I peel myself off the couch and ready my kit.
An hour and half later we're driving up the valley of some river, Jay or Mike won't say which. We explore a few different stretches of un-said river. Other than a mid day break at a burger stand we're at it all day.
Back on 'ol Nameless the four of us leapfrog our way up-stream, into a wooded valley. We see a few 'heads but they are dark and tired looking. They don't bite I checked.
On the way back to the truck the boys sighted some fresh fish. Nobody bothered to tell me though. An hour and a half later, back at the truck, my phone rings.
"Hey dude where are you?" says Chet.
"I'm back at the rig, where are you guys?"
"Ummm, we're on the river catching fish, you should come back."
I can't go back because I broke my rod down and changed out of my wading gear. It's almost dark, my friends are catching steelhead and I'm sitting at the truck twiddling my thumbs. I feel like an idiot. I should be used to that by now.
It hasn't rained in a week and the river is down to a trickle. We din't see any fresh fish while working upstream so there shouldn't of been any on the walk back downstream. Right?
Wrong. The guys that catch steelhead are the guys that keep at it. Mike fishes every piece of water as if it held the last steelhead on earth. On the other end of the spectrum is Jay. He made about four casts all day but managed to hook a big buck and land a small hathery fish. Chet? Chet's too dumb too know any better, as long as Mike and Jay were fishing Chet was fishing. Chet hooked three and landed one, a regular savant he is. Meanwhile I'm back in the truck taking a nap, brilliant.
On the drive back to Sparta Jay apolgizes for the weather, low flows and lack of fish, things over which he has no control. But I know the feeling. When you take some friends out to your fishing hole you want them to do well. Sometimes good fishing is like that cartoon frog, it only sings when nobody else is around.