Got this guy to come back after a missed grab. That doesn't happen on the Truckee.
Did the full Pyramid experience with my buddy Ryan. Some guys love the Pyramid thing. He's one of them. I get it. That said, my first love is the Truckee, and days like this cement that in my mind. He got a few nice fish while I got pounded on my ladder. Click to enlarge. If you look closely, you can see me violently shivering.
Convinced a long time friend and avid vegetarian to come try fly-fishing. Gary did wonderful, and was a great sport. Gary is interesting because he used to be a strip club bouncer, and has trained in jiujitsu for a long time...but he also has a real heart for animals. Never was I so happy to practice catch and release.
Power stance.
Dad hired Gilligan for a half-day session. He got us into some great fish. Gilligan is a great guide, and I highly recommend him. He's direct but easy to be around, and pays attention to you to make sure you learn while you're out.
Been reading through Ralph Cutter's "Fish Food". Last night, read about Stoneflies dropping out of vegetation that hangs over the water. Decided to put into practice my "research" and on the first cast, this hefty hen grabbed my stonefly. Thanks Ralph.
Browns are such a blast to get into, even the lil guys.
Took a friend of mine that frequents Pyramid down to the Truckee. He was skeptical, but in the first 5 casts he got a hold of this nice rainbow on a midge. Gotta love the winter colors.
There's many ways to spot a planter. Worn fins and muted colors are dead give-aways.
In
the neighborhood overlooking this stretch, I met an old timer that told
me about a monster brown that lived down below, that he had named
"Hank". He said he'd hooked him 2 times in 10 years, and landed him
briefly one time. I laughed when he told me the name, but I quickly realized from the cadence and tone of his voice, that this story was no laughing matter for him. I wondered how many mornings he popped down from his backyard for a date with Hank.
15 minutes after I caught this
little brown, I hooked Hank. 25"+ brown with attitude. Saw him 3
times before he spit the 2-bit hooker out of his mouth. Lost him when
he figured out where I was and headed straight for the other side of the
river in fast water. He darted from big rock to big rock and covered an insane amount of water in about 6 seconds.
I was heart-broken. I still have chest pains
when I think about it. Some fish really do act like they have a plan in mind in the event they ever get hooked. Hank was a planner.
Some other shots from this month:
Par Tolles making it happen.
Creepiest animal I have ever encountered on the river. Some kind of fox with 3 legs.
Found her in the back of big deep run that gets constant pressure. This is one of those fish that you feel good about, not because you out-smarted the fish, but because you probably out-smarted the last 20 guys that fished that run. I'm usually one of the 20.
Brandon Balkenbush with a beast.
Found 3 great fish stacked on top of each other. Summer does weird things to this territorial animal.
Over.
Under.
The G6 doesn't discriminate...she loves fish of all colors. Both the bow and brown above are evidence. Thanks Gilligan.
As obnoxious as it is, you have to listen to this song while reading this post. Trust me. Context.
After a brief family trip to the Bay Area, the trip home gave me an excuse to stop in Mountain Hardware and Sports in Truckee, CA. After some
tinkering around the internets this shop seems to be the only place you can get some
flies I have been trying to acquire...namely some Skipper Stones and a little fella called the G6. Would be nice if someone picked them up for distribution in town. Both of these are crafted by the Truckee's finest guide, Mr. Matt "Gilligan" Koles
One
iPhone function I have been using lately is dropping a rendezvous pin
on the map and sending it to a fishing buddy. This saves lots of
obscure descriptions, like "the seventh dead-looking tree on the right"
or "after the tire pile, before the abandoned shanty". After joining up
with a friend, I jumped in downstream and tried out my new flies.
After
a slow start, something big and heavy took off downstream towards the
casinos. He didn't slow down at all with a little thumb drag, but in
the instant it took me to look down to adjust my footing, he was gone.
After 30+ casts through the same run, I tipped my hat and blessed his
children's children. Losing a big one brings out all of my worst
personality traits. It feels like loose ends. I hate loose ends.
After
moving upstream, the wind kicked up and my dropper rig was quickly
becoming more trouble than strategic. I trimmed the G6 off, and threw
the skipper alone across some fast, deep water. Almost immediately, a
nice rainbow greeted the fly at the surface, and then thrashed around a
bit before spitting the hook. After 30+ casts through the same run, he
returned for a second look. Pretty uncommon. The
moment when you see a dark shape rise from the blurry stones below the
surface and follow your fly for a few yards is priceless. I think
that's where "the tug is my drug" comes from.
After
realizing I was happier to see him than he was me, I got him
re-oxygenated and he took off as fast as he hit my fly the first time.
19" is my streak these days. I
may have to return to this stretch to break the streak and tie up some
loose ends.
Summer time means fishing early or late...so for me, that means late. I've caught great fish at dusk, but I have a habit of hiking out too far and not turning back when it would be smart. Then I'm in the middle of the river in darkness. One more cast, right?
I've been starting to revisit some of my favorite holes in the
Truckee since making the switch to a fly rod. It feels like starting
over in many ways, but the rewards have appeared occasionally. Last
week I returned to some deep water I was fond of.
Two casts in,
something angry ripped my beer-head baetis off the line with 2 big
shakes. I used to be able to tell the size of a fish plus or minus 2
inches from the moment I hooked up. Not so anymore. Learning what fish
feel like on the fly rod has been one of the biggest challenges, but
having recently landed a few 20"ers, I am pretty confident this guy was
much bigger than that.
Then a few casts later,
something lighter took me for a ride. After a nice surfacing and plenty
of swim-bys, he broke me off.
Fast forward a week.
Determined
to finish our exchange, I popped back to the same run yesterday.
Despite the silty water, I managed to hook up with a fish before heading
into the office. I'm 90% sure this is the same 19" fella. My need for
closure satisfied, I left with a grin on my face. Long live the
baetis.
Frenchman's was insanely windy and insanely productive. We caught around 50 trout between the three of us over four hours. None of them were huge, but it was one of those days when you hardly had enough time to let your thoughts wander because there was so much action.
Most of them took a blood midge or zebra midge below an indicator. Good times.
30 casts.
15 bites.
10 hook-ups.
6 fish.
1 new personal best.
Heavenly.
After
losing one over 20" moments before hooking this guy, I resolved to not
just muscle the next one in. This new plan backfired. I ended up covering
almost 250 yards in the stream (yes it was that far), after he refused to be steered or
directed towards quieter water for netting.
Once
I finally closed the distance, I realized that my friend had unclipped
my net from my vest to assist me 20 minutes earlier. Translation: I didn't have my net on me. I looked over my
shoulder to see him sprinting towards me up the bank, giggling with my net in
hand.
21" of beautiful color.
Got skunked 3 times after this trip out, so rest assured that the Truckee keeps score.
