Refreshing As A Sno-Cone About Now

26 & Windy...Refreshing Memory Now~SwittersB

It has finally cooled off a bit after several weeks of 90-105 temps. I recall this day in late January. I gave up that day, beaten down by the East wind, the frozen feet and hands and sloppy casting. I was alone…that should have been a tip off…and I finally wore down and trudged back to the p-u. Now, the wind is forgotten and the whiteness seems to be as inviting as a refreshing sno-cone on a hot day. Like many grueling endeavors in life, later the sharp edges are smoother in the recollections.

Small Stream Solitude

SwittersB Found Signs of Life

Yes, others had been there. But, not today. Quiet for a Saturday. I took in the forest colors and sounds of the river. Then I quickly got into synch with the seams, rocks, ambush points and teased little rainbows to a Caddis Pupa pattern. Things worked. There one should be and it was. Not a lot of the tangles, hangups, snags and remarks associated with fishing interruptis. I fished well and had a pleasant day. No mosquitoes. Overcast day. A few PMD’s, Brown Drakes, Caddis fluttering about. The only slight bump was me stringing a 3wt. line onto what I thought was a 3wt. rod…nope. It was a 4/5 and it never felt quite right. Went back to p-u and put the correct rod with the reel…big improvement. Not such a bad caster after all. 

 

Inviting Bend~SwittersB

  Earlier today, I had enjoyed a post at Planet Trout, which depicted a hike up a small stream with big boulders and willing trout. It reminded me of my earlier years and primarily fly fishing small streams. Motivated, I headed out the door and was rewarded with solitude and a few tugs.  

I Met An Old Man Along The Way~SwittersB

Blue Winged Olives (BWO’s….prolific, small, Winter’s hope)

The ubiquitous (I love that $10. word) Blue Winged Olive. The BWO (not a trucking company or rail line) is a very common mayfly that is on the small side (size 14-20). The nymph is a swimming type (as opposed to crawler, clinger, burrower which necessitate stouter bodies compared to the more slender swimmer) and some key factors for the nymph pattern are: probably split the difference and tie 16′s with some smaller. Keep the abdomen slim and have a slightly heavier thorax (like the guy that only does benches but not squats…the con look) and have a pronounced dark wingpad (Planet Trout reminded me of this from his observations).

If you query Google Images re BWO’s you will see mostly emergers (little, sparse ties on pupa hooks) and chunky dries (trying to put all the components on a size 18 hook) and not too many nymph patterns. Nymphs are prolific in the drifts of streams and occupy varied waters of the stream from rapids to the adjacent quieter waters. Also, BWO’s hatch several times a year so they are worth consideration as a must have pattern on the mayfly side. Not as flashy as the less frequent hex or the green drakes and PMD’s but BWO’s are early Spring fish food and again in the Fall and Winter (or if you are a hearty Winter fisher, you can simply view this as your primary Winter pattern). Other than midges, you have to agree the BWO is busy enough to be frequently available to the trout. As with other mayflies, the early hatches may be larger (say 14-16) and later smaller (16-20 or smaller). If you tie, it has to be simplistic patterns.

  

I think simplistic Pheasant Tail Nymphs, or Krystal Flash bodies or thread bodies with wire ribbing for segmentation will keep the body (abdomen sparse) and then a thorax slightly thicker will complete a simple pattern.  A nice Scott Richmond piece re BWO’s at Westfly.

PTN~SwittersB

BWO DRY (KISS) From GFF

Russia’s Got Talent (Ooops! Arrow Straight & True)

OOOPS! 

Errant Osprey v. Vehicle (Recovery and Rest)

Osprey in Columbia R.

Recently a motorist moving down I-84 (Oregon) had a shock as a misguided Osprey collided with their car. The Osprey ended up in the Columbia River. The motorist summoned assistance and the Multnomah County Sheriff’s Offce responded via River Patrol and the Gorge patrol vehicle. They no doubt were noting the larger than anticipated wing span and thinking ‘talons!  Ever resourceful and careful the errant, feathered missle was soon captured and off for a hopefully full recovery.

 

Osprey Recovery

    Kudos to the MCSO Osprey Recovery Unit and those that care for wayward birds. Perhaps further rehab would include helping the bird to discern between vehicles and fish.

King Salmon M.I.A. (Bering Sea Pollock Fishery Harvesting Kings? Perhaps an even more pressing concern than Pebble Mine?)

Alaskan Pollock

“People living along the Yukon River think they know what is to blame — pollock fishery. The fishery — the nation’s largest — removes about 1 million metric tons of pollock each year from the eastern Bering Sea. Its wholesale value is nearly $1 billion.”

“We do know for a fact that the pollock fishery is slaughtering wholesale and wiping out the king salmon stocks out there that are coming into all the major tributaries,” said Nick Andrew Jr., executive director of the Ohagamuit Traditional Council. “The pollock fishery is taking away our way of living.”

Since 2000, the incidental number of king salmon caught has skyrocketed, reaching over 120,000 kings in 2007. A substantial portion of those fish were bound for western Alaska rivers. If those fish had lived, an estimated 78,000 adult fish would have returned to rivers from the Pacific Northwest to Western Alaska.”

“The world’s largest food fishery is on the verge of collapse. Pollock, used to make McDonald’s fish sandwiches, frozen fish sticks, fish and chips, and imitation crabmeat, have had a population decrease of 50 percent since last year.”

Over harvesting of pollock along with the incidental catch of Kings. Perhaps some of that 1% feel good eco dollar should be spent on this issue, as well as the habitat concerns of Pebble? 

Golden Stones (Tying In The Round, To Cover The Seasons)

Golden Stones ~ Naturliches by Frank Z (PBase)

Stoneflies, big and small, armor plated morsels crawling, emerging and fluttering clumsily. Ever camp near the emergence and later find one or more crawling out of your camping gear once home? Tenacious critters. May and June, the larger California Salmon flies came off. Now the Goldens and Lil yellow stones are about. In the Winter little brown/black stones. And, throughout the year all these nymphs are in and around the substrate of streams. For a beginner, keep any pattern tied simple. Mix the size and colors to match the type of stonefly, while retaining the simple pattern. (Brooks Stone: Kind of a mutt, I know, but it works).

BROOKS STONEFLY PATTERN

Brooks Stonefly~Central Alberta Flytying Club

A simple stonefly pattern tied in the round. A good, basic pattern. Weight it. No need for windcases, bead heads, rubber legs. Vary the sizes and colors. Impressionistic, easy to tie. 

Now, if you are a more accomplished tyer or able to order from The Caddis Fly Shop you could throw these notables: Mega Prince and Possie Bugger

Mega Prince & Possie Bugger

Sam D. Hamilton (New Director of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service….What Does He Know About Western Species?)

“Sam is a veteran manager, innovative leader, and strong advocate for sound science,” Salazar said. “His three decades of experience with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s mission, responsibilities and programs will enable him to firmly guide the agency in its critical work conserving our nation’s wildlife and its habitat and addressing the impacts of climate change.”

A career senior biologist and manager with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Hamilton had been director of the agency’s Southeast Region in Atlanta, Georgia, where he was responsible for the oversight and management of more than 350 federally listed threatened and endangered species and 128 national wildlife refuges. As senior operating executive, he had full strategic planning and management responsibility for a $484 million budget and a 1,500-person work-force that operates in 10 states and the Caribbean.”

What will this manager type bring to N.W. U.S. waters and the improvement in fishing opportunities here?

Montana’s Mission Mountains and the Group Explorations….memories

 

                                                                                                                                                                     

“I drive Hwy 93..pray for me”

Any of my great Montana fishing adventures always began with “Hey, where we goin’ this weekend?”.

Figuring out just what awesome water we are about to partake in was the hardest part. After all, Montana is nothing more than beautiful mountains, pristine water and wildlife. What a choice. So, (usually on a Thursday night) we would all sit around the big wrap-around front porch of my old Victorian, and argue about where we’ve been, and where we want to be. Kelly, having the great fortune to actually LIVE on one of these pristine bodies of water, would always be our default place. He lived up at Flathead Lake in the Mission Mountain area. We could always depend on that for a good time. But most times we just threw places out there. Madison River…Big Hole…Lost Horse..so many places, so little time.

I specifically remember the day we all decided to go to Glacier Park to see what one of those upper lakes had in store for anglers. Carol and Brad decided we really hadn’t fished (or hiked) Montana until we had gone to Glacier. Sounds fun…right.

Early (4 am) on Saturday morning all 6 of us gathered our gear, backpacks and “other stuff”. The porch was always the rendevous point. If that porch could talk! We set out in an old International that belonged to Brad’s dad. An old surveyors truck, bright safety yellow. Ok, so our style was a bit cramped. The outcome should prove a fair reward for all the stares as we made our way up Hwy 93. Now Hwy 93 is another story all together…if the bumper stickers of the locals have a tale to tell, you risk life and limb traversing it’s asphalt. “I drive Hwy 93..pray for me”. Enough said.

Glacier Moose~Creekwalker

 Just out of Missoula, the road begins it’s ascent up Evaro Hill. The trip is really a tourist’s delight. The highway goes through some of the most gorgeous country one could ever hope to see. Once you top the hill, the most spectacular sight assaults you like a dousing of ice water..it takes your breath away! The majestic Mission Mountains do just that. They always take my breath away at that first sight atop the hill.

Crossing the valley, we passed through Arlee, on the Flathead Indian Reservation. I used to live up there, actually owned 15 acres…horses the whole 9 yards, but time and circumstances made it necessary to move back to the civilized world. The closest store at that time was St. Ignatius, about 25 miles, and then of course back to Missoula..too far except for once a month or so. Once a week I’d head into St.Ignatius to go to the grocery and go get huckleberries from Doug Allard, a tourist trap that had a live buffalo alongside the Indian Museum he had placed along the highway. I liked getting huckleberries anytime of year. Oh I picked my share, but inconvenient sometimes when the family begged for huckleberry pancakes.Good ole Doug wasn’t really an Indian, but he’d fight you if he heard you say otherwise. Braids don’t make an Indian. The Flathead Indians are a special group of people! I had my teepee up every pow wow. It was 19ft by 24 ft. All handmade in the back of my home.

After cruising on through St. Ignasius, the road goes towards the north with the Missions along the east. This is one of my favorite rides! Absolutely amazing! Good place to haul the cousins and the visitors from out of state. There is the Lee Metcalf Wildlife Refuge, and a little place or two to throw a line along this route to Flathead. My dad used  stop once in awhile, but usually he just kept on until we got to the cabin.

Making our way through the burgs and the roadside touristy attractions, we came to the western entrance to the park. It would be fun from here. Just before you go into the park there is a wildlife exhibit. I have always felt so sorry for that old bear they had in the cage.That was back when, so maybe PETA got to them…don’t know.

Anyway, we eventually got to the river, the Middle Fork of the Flathead River.We had settled on not going to the Iceberg Lake, because we would have had to start earlier in the week to get stuff ready, and we would have had to enter on at the east entrance. This would mean we couldn’t use our “default” plan of going to Kelly’s should we not want to go farther. The river begins in Canada and travels through the Bob Marshall Wilderness, the Great Bear Wilderness, and finally winds up in the Clark Fork. 6 miles were all we were concerned with. So, as we got our gear on our frames, we set out for what should have been a great day of fishing and fooling around. Mother nature however, had other ideas. Never mind that the six of us had our ties (Royal Wulfs, Elk Hair Caddis… which is a Montana staple, and Sofa Pillow stones), our grub and our intentions.

About three and a half miles up the trail, Brad said he felt funny. “What do you mean..”funny”?” Kelly asked him. “I feel like something’s watching us”..and he kind of gave a shiver albeit an overdramatized one. “I think there is a bear stalking us!”. Brad was a jokester, and none of us gals were buying the joke. So we all got going again. . Up the trail we proceeded, sure the next encounter would be a bear! No, we came to fish, we will fish. The group all found a spot where they could cast and do their thing. Fishing was good, and several of us caught some nice cutthroat. Kelly caught a brown, and I caught a couple of rainbow and a cutthroat. Obviously we did’nt keep any…catch and release only in these waters. Besides, we want them again sometime, after they get bigger.

It was getting to be a bit dusky as we were almost down the trail to where we had left the International. About three quarters of a mile from the truck we heard this strange noise, like the rut of an elk mixed with the sound of a high speed crash. Running down the trail and into the clearing where the truck was, we were flabberghasted to see a huge bull moose attacking the yellow International. He had literally already caved in the driver’s door, and was hitting the headlight. None of us had even brought a camera, so it is lost to posterity. It took a good 20 minutes for us to get into the truck and head back to Hamilton. The moose (for whatever reason) did not like our odor or our stuff. To this day, Brad’s dad does not believe us.

So if you are thinking of fishing any of those pristine waters in Glacier, better bring your camera.and leave the rig in a safe place..you never know.

Creekwalker, 2009