All My Favorite Colors

A bald eagle in the coliseum of fall...

Fall is my favorite time of the year to be on or near the water. After the hot & humid doldrums of summer in the Mid-Atlantic region, I'm usually itching to get back to colder water, higher flows, and trout fishing on my local freestone creeks and rivers. More importantly, the water during the fall goes through a rapid transformation that mostly makes up for the hit & miss nature of fly fishing during this time period. Fall features all my favorite colors as the foliage reaches its peak colors of red, orange, and yellow. The brown trout, in preparation for the spawn, become bolder in their hues of brown, orange, gold, and yellow. The deer become more active and aggressive as the males begin the rut. In addition migratory birds are on the move across the sky and avian predators are fattening up for the winter ahead. Below are some selected images, moments, and tales from the fall seasons of the past and present. They represent and reflect the changing seasons and the hues of the fall season. 

Matt Erdosy swinging through the half light...

A wild male brown trout gearing up for the spawn...

All my favorite colors...

• It is mid-afternoon and I'm skating caddis in the confines of the river when I hear a crashing sound coming through the woods. I give a glance to my brother anticipating what could be coming down the steep slopes of the gorge. Suddenly, a big buck burst through the thicket on the edge of the river and plunges into the current. The flow is pushing him towards our direction when he finally spots us. The panic of a missed arrow, the swiftness of the river, and now two anglers has the buck in a frantic state. Bounding out of the water revealed a thick body, six points, and a wide spread. Matt and I were left in slack jawed silence and simply went back to fishing. 
• Swinging flies in low water conditions & bright sun can produce lackluster results. I didn't expect much other than enjoying my brother and dog's company. I tried to warn Matt on the walk to the run that fishing had been slow all fall and not to expect too much action. I may have even uttered the words "casting practice". What followed belied all expectations. He ended up hooking and landing half a dozen brown trout before getting into the sweet spot of the run. The moment seemed too good to be true. The bite window ended up closing but that hour of action defied expectations. We weren't complaining.
• About halfway through day one of a multi-day float, I found myself in a tough situation. It had been pouring rain for hours and my rain jacket was already soaked through. The fishing was good and I wanted to get in on some of the streamer action. So, I relented and let Matt take a turn on the oars. It took all of one minute before things went awry. The raft got sucked backwards down a side channel and a few rods became threatened. Matt made an overly aggressive correction that spun the bow quickly in the current. The front of the raft slammed into a boulder. The suddenness of the collision ejected me head first and straight into the river. Luckily, I was unscathed. With the non-stop rain, colder temps, and an increasingly damp spare pair of clothes hypothermia became a real threat. It ended up being a very long night.
• The lowest water in years has me internally debating my decision to float the water master on this section of river. I ultimately decide to go and just swing/skate flies in a few choice runs. The rest of the time was going to be spent taking in the fall scenery. In the late afternoon light, the river suddenly came alive with rising fish. I had a few dry flies with me but definitely not what was on the menu. A closer inspection revealed a flying ant hatch in late October. It was thick and the trout were happy. I was unprepared and simply watched.
• The streamer bite, and the fishing, had been slow the entire float. Thus, the rainbow that emerged off the bank was a totally unexpected surprise. The eat was aggressive and resulted in an odd hookset. The kind that causes an errant placement deep in the mouth of the trout. Despite the precautions, the bow was simply not going to make it. After all, fishing is a bloodsport. We cut the gills and gutted the fish on the banks of the river. The filets were put on ice and made a nice dinner that evening. 
• October is typically the last trout fishing of the year for me because I like to give the trout time and space to spawn/recover before the harsh winter sets in. Therefore, I was disheartened to find the mouth of a cold water spawning tributary completely damned up. Not only was it blocking upstream migration for spawning, but had most likely been stopping trout seeking thermal refuge all summer long. Dan and I rowed over and spent an hour taking it apart piece by piece. It was well designed with multiple layers, logs, and heavy rocks. My lower bank didn't thank me, but I'm pretty sure some of the resident trout were over the next few months. 
• This particular run is seldom fished by an angler on foot because it requires either a river crossing or a very long walk on the tracks. I'd imagine most floating anglers don't even bother to stop, but I find it to be one of my favorite stretches to swing a fly. It was raining hard as I stepped down the run. I was throwing a hybrid shooting head, a piece of T6, and three inches of rabbit strip spun up to resemble a sculpin. A long cast had me probing the edge under some overhanging branches. On one cast, my fly hit the water and was immediately eaten by a solid brown trout. The trout exited the water on the eat. I tried my best to strip-set the fly into the corner of its mouth with almost 50 ft. of running line on the water. The hook point found its mark and I landed the trout. A crazy moment and eat that is mostly likely not to be believed except Matt was recording a video when it happened...