It is the prime of May and our rivers seem to be haunted by the doldrums. Next week is Bug Week, so perhaps the bugs are simply biding their time until the celebration. The weather is hot, and the rivers are low, so it’s not surprising that fishing days haven’t been interrupted by too many epic battles.
The fly shops have been doing the “it’s best in the evenings” chant for a while now, though I have talked to several anglers that advised the sundown fishing has still been slow. It is the Catskills, so one can be sure that there are trout rising somewhere, though that doesn’t guarantee they will be taking our flies.
It is six AM here at Crooked Eddy, and I am feeling a bit reflective. Another milestone approaches and, though I have not found that perfect time and place for angling nirvana for the past couple of weeks, I rejoice at the opportunity to keep looking for it!
I am nine years down the road from the events that might have ended my life before I really got to taste the best of it and have spent six of those years truly enjoying the flavor of it all. I spend my days wading bright water, thinking about bright water, and angling for some of the most beautiful wild trout in the world. Yes, fishing has been a little slow, but man there’s still nothing I’d rather be doing!
I have spent the past couple of days wading a low, clear pool while good trout cruised all around busting the occasional something. I believe they have been hunting down March Brown nymphs as they hang just under the surface, taking them hard when they find one. I have seen flashes of movement a few times, when one of those fish darted a couple of feet to nail his emerging dinner.
I have seen this behavior before, particularly when the water gets very low and the bugs are sparse and sporadic. I encountered this a decade or so ago and came up with a fly to deal with the uncatchable trout. I had some success with it, so yesterday I was well stocked and ready for them. The brownies that fell for my imitation all those years ago must have passed on the information to their offspring, as none of yesterday’s cruisers took a second look at my fly. It’s a great imitation, but it ain’t alive!
That is indeed the crux of the magical pursuit of wild trout with the fly: trout eat living insects, insects that swim and wiggle, and struggle. These characteristics are never more evident than during bright sunny days in low, clear, slow-moving water. The trout themselves, particularly the larger, wiser members of the tribe, are at their wariest, but they seem comfortable in their instincts and abilities. They can hunt the food Nature offers at the moment while minimizing the danger, and they get better at it every generation.
My focus as a fly tyer has always been a quest to enhance the image of life presented by my flies. I design as much movement as I can get into patterns for the most difficult situation, but the trout still manage to come away unscathed at times. Honestly, if it weren’t for times like these, I wouldn’t have the same passion for fly fishing.
There is some rain in today’s forecast, though not enough to change river conditions. There is supposed to be more of it next week. I will have to wait and see if we get enough of it to improve the flows and invigorate the fishing. While writing this, I had a thought of how to improve the movement of that hanging emerger, so I am going to take another shot at tying a fly that will break the code of the cruisers. I can’t change the weather; all I can do is work the problem.
Bright Waters Catskill 