This is Fly

In this month's This is Fly on line magazine, a number of my pictures were included in two articles.  The first article included a number of photo's of flies tied by Pat Cohen.  If any of you don't know Pat he is an exceptionally talented fly tier who brings a completely different dimension to flies.  I was also offered to be the featured photographer in this issue.  It puts a little smile on my face and keeps me inspired to take better more interesting photographs.

Here are some of the pictures of Pat's flies, some that made it and others that didn't make it into the magazine.

                                                       7" baby rainbow

                                                           Bass bug

                                                                Bass bugs

                                                          Fat Headed Deciever

                                                      Double Deceivers closeup

                                                              Double Deceivers

I had thirteen of my pictures in the emagzine including these

 

  Be sure to check out all of the good articles and pictures in the magazine. 

Winter Walkabout

 Found myself out and about taking some pictures this past weekend.  The weather wasn't freezing for a change.  It turned out to be pleasant and a pair of snowshoes made the walking much easier.  Playing around with composition in these photo's.  More work to be done on the composition front.  It's always fun to get out and try to make some interesting photo's no matter the conditions. 

 

Window of Opportunity

The weather this winter has not been kind to those of us who like to chase great lakes steelhead.  Another recent visit from the polar vortex and its companion, the cold, brought with it lows in the way below zero range.  To say the least, fishing opportunities have been few and far between. 

With the forecast calling for highs to jump into the mid-twenties on Saturday before dipping back down into the low teens on Sunday.  We saw a small window of opportunity and jumped on it.

Fishing in such conditions requires a positive attitude and the right equipment.  Staying warm is imperative.  Besides the typical assortment of winter wear, two new additions to the gear roster made the recent trip.  First the Jet boil, a compact cooking unit that allows one to quickly heat up water or cook some soup.  Needless to say breaking for a hot lunch or a drink brings with it a level of pleasure that heated food at home can never replicate.   

The other addition has been using monofilament instead of running line.  The main benefit of this is that it doesn’t allow as much water to stick to the line and thus the guides don’t clog as fast, requiring fewer breaks to deal with deicing.

After donning our multiple layers of clothing, we left the parking lot decked out with our new gear and set off.  At the trail head, we were met a snow covered path, things were looking better with each step. 

While our destination is not the most frequented run it is a well-attended one.  No boot prints meant that it hadn’t been fished in a day or two.  This only quickened our pace. 

Arriving at our destination, we unload our backpacks on the shelf ice and eagerly hit the water.  Swinging flies midwinter is not a numbers game, you may get only one pull all day, that means no sleeping at the wheel. 

Halfway through the first pass, Geoff cries out, “fish”.  After a short fight the colored up steelhead graces us with its presence.  Now another dilemma presents itself, who is sticking their hands in the water?  The problem solves itself as the hook pops out in mid-conversation.   At the end the run with nary a hint of a fish, I reel in my line.  

 Geoff working the run

At the beginning of then next rotation, my most trusted fly hangs on the leader.  After an unknown amount of time my trance is rudely interrupted by the sound of my reel screaming.  The heavy weight on my line disappears as quickly as it is felt.  My hook set finds emptiness. After marveling at what happened and a couple of chuckles later, I get back to the business at hand. 

At lunch we fire up the Jetboils, which fill our bellies with hearty, piping hot stew and we rehash the morning’s happenings. 

 Game changer

    

The third time down the run passes without a pull for either of us. Did the slight rise in water temps, which saw the lifting anchor ice, cause the slight flurry of fish activity?  Now that the temps stabilized did that mean the opportunity had passed?  There was only one way to find out was to keep working the water as intently as ever.  Near the end of the fourth rotation there is a long slow pull on my line, a just reward for all the effort put into the day.  Fish on. 

        After watching the long awaited fish swim free, I find myself in awe of the fact that we catch such fish in the midst of such a brutally cold winter.    

 

The Zone

A recent weekend presented the opportunity to get out and swing some flies.  The much talked about arctic vortex and the recent drop in the rivers’ flow encrusted the edges of the lower river with shelf ice. This shelf ice, combined with the anchor ice clinging to the high spots on the river’s bottom, compressed the available swinging water into uncomfortably small pools and slots. Not good for us plying the waters with spey rods. As noon approached, we pulled the plug on fishing this section of river.  We headed upstream with hopes of finding some fishable water.  

 

To our frustration, every spot we wanted to swing was occupied. To add to our frustration, when one typically good run opened up, the water flow had moved the bucket upriver. The desired spot was already being worked over by four pinners.  Up to this point in the day we hadn’t made any casts at reasonable swinging water.

Since my introduction to spey fishing 6 or 7 years ago, my sense of what makes good swinging water has evolved. In the days when I used to probe the river with a nymph the river currents transformed themselves from a blank slate to a mosaic of meaning and memories.   Now with the two handed rod, the mosaic has shrunk as many lies just don’t lend themselves to the ancient art of the swung fly.    We kept on walking.

On tired feet, we finally came upon some decent water. After three rotations through this stretch, the run directly downstream that I had been eye

ing was cleared of its last fisherman.  I made a beeline for a run I hadn’t fished in a number of years, one which held fond memories.   

As I stepped in at the top of the pool, I continued my day-long meditation of firing lasers of line across the currents and watching my leader straighten out into the diminishing daylight.  The swing was heaven, perfect speed every time without any interruptions all the way through to the end of the dangle.  I was in the “zone” and feeling every second of every cast.  

My awareness of the “zone” of the swing has evolved over the years from one of beginner’s mind to that of keen awareness of the speed of my swing.  When I am in that zone, I can interpret what I feel in my hand and envision a three dimensional picture my fly swimming through the pool’s features as revealed by its currents.

Stepping and casting, stepping and casting for hours on end creates a rhythmic cadence, lulling me into an altered stated of consciousness.  Deep into this peaceful meditation, suddenly I find myself feeling four slow-motion head shakes in my hand. My rod is forcibly swept low towards the nearby bank sinking the hook into the fish.   As the battle wages on, excitement begins to well up within me as I anxiously wait to see the long sought quarry.  I feel the line slide over the fishes back and suddenly slack.  I am momentarily taken aback as I realize the fish is gone.

In my younger days, losing a fish pissed me off and left me feeling empty. This day, however, I wear a smile.  Getting a fish to intentionally take my fly in thirty-two degree water tickles me to the core, each and every time. 

Fun in the Sun

My final entry for 2013 was a recent trip to the sunshine state to visit family for the holidays.  The highlight at least fishing wise was finally getting together with my friend Danny for some long overdue flats fishing.  For the past few years the timing of things just didn't work out so after along overdue stretch of time we finally fished in FL.  Danny grew up in FL and has a sweet Maverick skiff.  We fished for snook in 4-8inches of water.  The only thing I've ever done that comes even close to it is carping.  Being in the bow of a skiff was a whole new ballgame for this guy and one that was fun and painful.  Unbeknownst to me standing on the platform doubles as a modern day torture devise.  After a couple of hours on that thing one's calves scream in agony.  To allay anyone's worries I managed to persevere through the pain and kept throwing flies at targets all day.  Danny has been fishing this one area for 3 seasons and this is the first that he has seen others in there.  We saw recent footprints in the mud and the snook were very spooky in the clear, skinny water.  This style of fishing was very challenging and while I made some good presentations I also managed to "f**k the duck" on quiet a few.  Through sheer perseverance we kept at it and while we saw about 75 snook I only hooked 2 and landed one.  That being said I can't wait to do it again.  Hopefully this spring or summer I will get down there and fish with him again.

 
On the way to the ramp.  That is one shallow running skiff. 


The ride out to the flats.  For those of you who don't know that little platform doubles as an evil torture devise.


Danny pointing the way or something.



My first snook.  While not large it's still a first. 


A closer look.  For a small fish it pulled pretty good.  Wouldn't mind tangling with some of the bigger brothers and sisters that we saw.  Maybe next time . 


The remainder of the trip was spent on the coast by my parents place and I got out for some walks and a short kayak trip with my sis.  The bird life is always amazing there.

Osprey

 American Oystercatcher, momma and juvenile

 
 It got windy on the beach. 

 

 
 Dive bombers getting ready
 
 On the way down.

 
 Willet with a morsel
 
 Red Knots
 
 My sis
 
 Roseate Spoonbill

 
 White Ibis

 
 Juvenile Yellow Crowned Night Heron

We visited some friends of my wife's who have a smallish private lake in their neighborhood. The bass were like crack addicts when presented with a small popper.  Nothing huge but it was a fun little jaunt.  














One of many bass caught. 

Now when the weather breaks back here I hope to chase some GL steel, but with temps in the low teens and single digits this week not sure when that will happen. 

Lazy Day on the Water

As much as I enjoy taking photos of fish and fishing there are days when I lack motivation or commitment to step up to the plate and get the job done.  Yesterday found me and two friends swinging the Salmon River.  The conditions started out ok and ended up being brutal.  40-50 mph winds, temps in the 20's, snow squalls, and a relentless driving cold wind.  Truth be told several times I thought I should get my camera out but that required unzipping my jacket and opening it and myself to the full onslaught of the elements so I passed on more than one occasion.  Maybe it wasn't being lazy but it was a lack of commitment.  Nonetheless my buddy Matt took several pics of me and the one fish I enticed to eat my fly.  He got his first steelhead to hand but he was out of sight when it happened so I wasn't able to get any pics.  Hopefully next time I will persevere and get some more shots. 

Beautiful steelheading conditions.














A handsome Brown Trout that graced us with it's presence.   

One in the hand is worth ............

Made my first steelheading trip of the season the other day. The weather was perfect, perfect for chasing chrome at least.  Mother nature threw clouds, wind, rain and cool and boy did it feel good to be out in the midst of it.    Since they had just dropped the water levels many folks came out of the woodwork to partake.  Finding good swinging water was a bit of an effort but since I was willing to walk it wasn't too bad.  Early in the day I had something happen that blew me away.  One of my flies was waking across the current like 90 degrees and giving off a little wake and a fish came up and sucked on it two or three times.  At first I felt it and when I looked I could see the tail behind my fly and see it getting sucked under.  I never felt any weight so I never set the hook.  It would have been the most amazing thing I'd ever seen on that river, but alas it wasn't to be.  Later after a long walk I found one of my favorite pools open on one side, the side I was on, and on my second pass my fly was pounded.  After three strong runs the hook pulled.  Oh well it happens.  On my next pass another take and I landed one of those stunning bucks that you get to cross paths with too infrequently.  Fishing solo limits the angles and options for photos but I did manage to get a couple of good ones.  In hindsight I wish I'd gotten a measure of it's length or a full body picture.