Friday, May 22, 2020

Foam Lines

Drunk on the wildness of the moment...

I awoke in a cocoon tucked into the bottom of the raft. It took a minute for my senses to orient to their surroundings and for my mind to wrap around the fact that I never left the river. Condensation covered everything and saturated my sleeping bag. I bemoaned the fact that I forgot a towel and resorted to using my hooded sweatshirt to wipe down the seat on the raft. I rummaged through my packed gear in order to find my Jet Fuel french press and then realized that I forgot coffee grounds too. This time, the replacement was a Cliff coffee bar in order to find a small jolt of caffeine. I sat down to adjust, eat breakfast, and scanned the pool for any sign of rising trout to the dead spinners on the water. Like the night before, there wasn't much going on. The river exhibited that morning calmness that we all know and hold dear. I eventually got on the oars and preceded to float a few miles through more skinny water until I got to familiar territory. Each stroke brought me closer and closer to better wild trout water. The day called for high temperatures, bright sun, and a good amount of wind. It ended up being a slow day overall, periodically broken up with some stocked and wild trout. In the evening, the river came alive producing an hour of top notch dry fly action that I will never forget. 


The river is heavily stocked and many of these brook trout are beginning to hold over...

For the most part, I floated the river and looked for rising fish along foam lines and seams in the variety of pools and runs. In between, I fished a streamer from a moving vessel which is difficult to do when one is by themselves and you are fishing from the middle seat. If I saw a juicy section of water or knew of a holding area, I anchored up and nymphed sections with a two handed rod. Later on the float, I would spend a good portion of my time swinging flies from anchored positions. On this day, most of my success came when I anchored and nymphed sections of water. I found a few rising fish, but they were far and few between. Streamer fishing was slow, due to the high sun, but I did catch several stocked trout and smallmouth bass during the daylight hours. 

Having floated this section of river a half dozen times, I know it well enough to be confident in my rowing abilities and where fish congregate. I know specific seams, holes, and choke points that hold good numbers of trout. In one particular spot, I nymphed up four wild browns from a small piece of holding water. The largest fish popped off in the heavy flow and I'll never know how big she actually was. Despite this familiarity, one still has to take extreme caution in certain named rapids within this stretch. In low water conditions, there are specific lines that need to be taken or you risk the raft, its contents, and may end up going for a swim. With only one person on the raft, everything was much easier and I was able to maneuver, unhindered, even in the toughest of spots. 

All of the water on the river looks good. One can spend days trying to fish a quarter mile stretch of water and still not probe every seam that looks like it will hold a trout. There are other sections that don't provide a lot of access to anglers on foot and are best fished from a boat. Regardless, the river can be unforgiving on foot and it is best to fish with someone else. It is the type of bottom where you can fall in while standing still. Studs or a wading staff are mandatory. I didn't have either with me. Therefore, I tried to limit the amount of time I spent out of the raft due to the intense wading and no one being around. When I did hop out on foot, fishing was very productive. 

On this day, I spent way too much time on sections that I already knew well. Losing track of time, it took some fading light to awaken a sense of urgency to reach a run I wanted to be parked in for magic hour. When I finally got near the stretch I was looking forward to fishing most, I only had an hour before the 8 o'clock dinner bell. The section of water I was most interested in fishing was a section of pocket water. With limited time, I nymphed up two brown trout before my eyes gazed toward a tailout and a bubble line on the bank. I saw a solid nose poke above the water several times. Caddis and some march browns were in the air and sporadic cahills were coming off throughout the afternoon hours. For half an hour I tangoed with a large brown trout rising on a foam line near a boulder. I was happy with my casts and drifts but my pattern was not on his order. I settled for a 16 inch wild brown rising further down the seam. 

The main event occurred in a beautiful run that is near and dear to my heart. A long bubble line extends on the outside bank for almost a hundred yards creating a conveyor belt of mayflies. By 8:30 p.m. the sulphurs made their appearance and the wild trout showed themselves in strong numbers. A pack of risers took formation on the seam and I picked off the lead dog on an extended drift into the zone. Two long runs made the Orvis Mirage LT hum and when I put the trout in the live well, I couldn't believe the spot pattern. A thick, healthy, pure, and unadulterated loch leven strain wild brown trout. I picked up four more fish on that seam, each one a stunner and downright beautiful. The largest fish was a holdover brown whose spot pattern contrasted sharply with the previous trout. 

As the light began to fade, the trout were still feeding aggressively on sulphurs as the march browns danced above our heads awaiting their turn to find a watery grave. My gaze turned towards the tailout of the pool where a large trout was rising. Tailouts often hold the largest trout and this one looked different. I eased the raft downstream careful not to make as little noise as possible. As I've come to learn, the raft isn't the most stealth form of fishing, especially when it comes to the biggest trout in the river feeding on top. The act of anchoring put the big one down. I waited and the trout began rising further down into the tailout. I should have executed a long cast and drift but I wanted a better position. It didn't happen and I never even got a cast off. I rowed back up into the sweet spot and switched to a large rusty spinner for the march browns. One more solid fish came to the net before I decided to call it quits. I was so dehydrated that my head was spinning and the adrenaline dump that occurred after the last release hit me hard. 

As the day drifted into darkness, the trout were still actively feeding in the moon light. I could have kept fishing and landing trout but I was more than satisfied. I set up my sleeping situation and crawled into my bag. The pontoons of the raft created a narrow field of vision as I gazed up at the stars. The chorus of mating American toads and select frogs was deafening but could not drown out the sounds of rising fish. As the river truly came alive and the big wild browns came out to play, I lapsed into a deep sleep, drunk on the wildness of the moment. 


Pick your chute...



Ugly...


A wild one...


A wild brook trout...





One of the few day time rising trout that I spotted while floating. Typically if you can find structure and shade near a bubble line or seam, you can find a sporadically rising trout. Patience is key and most of the time you have to sit and wait. The trout above was actively feeding and took the dry on the first cast. 


A very slow day of streamer fishing from a moving vessel...
Orvis 7wt. H3D




If you anchor up in a spot and take your time, you will find trout. 


I have a little bit of history with this section of water during a cold April day that left me stranded in the middle of it. This time, I did not repeat my brother's mistake and chose the right line. 




One of several fish that came out of a seam along a large boulder. A 17 inch holdover brown that I fumbled back into the tannic stain.




Half Light



Dancing with a big one...
I lost...


A beautiful wild specimen...


Lead dog...


Orvis H3F 904-4
About as good of a dry fly rod as you can make...


So fresh, so clean...




Holdover


Wild



The nightly chorus and the sound of a single rise...


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