First off, Happy Father’s Day to all my fellow dads, everywhere.
This year was kind of a hard one, with 2/3 of our kids grown and moved out (one in Navy RTC, right now!) and the passing of my father having just reached it’s 25th anniversary. Still, the fact that 2 of ours are successfully on their own, and the third is focused on a specific path to getting her future underway, really suggests we did something right, as parents.
I’d like to think I participated in that, but the reality of it is that I managed to find and marry an amazing woman, who brought our lovely children into the world, raise and taught them, and kept us all as sane as we can be.
I get to be a father because of her, so it’s all an amazing gift.
There were options for things to do, this Father’s day, of course, but the one that won out was “spending time in a river, flailing a long stick, threatening fish with flies, and chill-testing my toes.”
How could I not?
By early afternoon, the weather forecasts had largely held true. 72°F, with light winds and partial cloudiness. Sure, the local rivers were still running high, due to the combination of the rising temps (more snow melt) and some recent rains, but a day of fly fishing, even without catching, is still better than a day without trying.
When even the drive to/from the selected spot is this beautiful, how can your day be too bad?
On that drive, I did see a lot of other people fishing, although nobody “catching,” from my brief glimpses. Not that it makes me worried. with the river conditions, I expected to have to really work if I was going to meet any trout.
I arrived here just after 1pm.
USGS says that the river was running roughly 550cfs. I’ve fished it at close to 100cfs, late in previous years, before it starts to get to the warmer end of the spectrum and becomes unsafe for the trout to have to fight. That rocky island on the right usually comes down to within about 3′ of the large rocks, and extends and widens to reach to (or beyond) that downed tree. Not much smooth or still water to see, anywhere.
Shortly after I took this pic, a guy stepped out from behind the distant trees, and started fishing that relatively calm pool. With that and the previous two spots already showing parked cars, I pushed on to the next spot.
Beautiful location, to be sure. Deep channel on the left, with relatively shallow wading on the right, at least to that tree in the middle of the river. I noticed a few small, pale mayflies fluttering on the water, at this point, so I went with one of the flies I had tied the day before.
Obviously, the one on the right!
Hard to find water that was calm enough for this fly’s relatively small profile to stand out, but that makes for good casting practice, right?
After maybe 45 minutes, it was clear that the waters were still too high, and the clarity too low, to draw out the fish with dries.
Which is not to say that I actually switched to anything else; because I didn’t. What I did do was just work on casting accuracy (under overhanging tree branches and into rare and small calm sections that were surrounded by turbulent currents) and enjoy the day.
After making my way to that old tree, then pausing just to admire the location and scenery, I worked my way back to where I had first waded in. This stretch is great, at lower flows. Beyond that tree turns into a smooth pool, then a section with a deep trough at the bottom of a stone wall. Maybe July, for this area.
As I neared the edge of the river, I noticed dark spots on the riverbed rocks.
Cased caddis! Mental note made, I placed it back.
Once back at the SUV, I started offloading gear into the back. Very nice to discover that my passenger compartment is long enough that the rod did not have to be disassembled! That’s a win!
Driving down the road a bit, I found an unoccupied downstream point below a deep pool, where I often get the nicer catches from this river, and made my way through the brush.
Great spot, but what should be a relatively gentle cascade of pocket water, into a stone face (with a deep trough directly below), then a tail-out into a smooth run…
Yeah…kind of wasn’t.
A few smoother areas, but no easy way to get to the point in the water where, usually, there is a current seam that lines up with the edge of a drop-off and ridge on the river floor, which makes for some of the best fishing in this area. So… still no fishy friends came out to play.
I did, however, see a larger number of those mayflies flittering about, occasionally bouncing on the surface of the water, and added my fly to them. After some time, including a period where I just reeled in and watched the mayflies in their egg-laying dance, I realized that even the natural insects weren’t being pursued at all. Just not the right combination of conditions, apparently.
I decided to move on to a different river, at this point, with the intent to come back, before heading home.
On my way out, I wanted to stop at the same spot where I had fished on the Opening Day of this fishing season. No such luck. There was a couple pulled up there, with waders and other gear visible. I stopped next to them, asking if they are just coming out of the water or about to go in, and they replied that they were prepping to start fishing. We exchanged comments about the water level and temperature, and I mentioned that I had noted a fair number of cased Caddis on the rocks and mayflies on the water, upstream of there, but had seen no fish.
They thanked me for that info, and mentioned that it would still be fun just to get in and cast, so I wished them good fishing and continued down the road.
The confluence of the Bumping and American Rivers turned out to be so high that I could not wade across the (usually much smaller) American side to get into a good casting position for the deep pool that has been near a jumble of downed trees for many years in a row. A shame, as the seam water along that has produced some nice, medium-sized Rainbows in the past.
I opted, then, to give a certain loop on the American River a chance, and made the drive farther up into the mountains with some darkening clouds appearing on the horizon. I have not had much success on the American River, in the past. Often too cold, but it is such a beautiful river and the valley it runs through is gorgeous. I’m tempted, on some future Seattle trek, to take that route just to stop and get photos along the way.
Despite being high and fast, the water was at least a bit more clear. Dropping in the thermometer, it came back as low 40’s, so I tried 3 different spots to cast from, and took it as a “skills course” in trying to avoid drag on conflicting currents. At this flow rate (this is the American River at roughly 490cfs), you get maybe two steps from the bank, out of the eddy effect of the close-in rocks, and the force of the water suddenly jumps to the point where trying to put my foot down in a specific spot requires starting the process aimed 2′ upstream.
I’m not a small person, and I have (I think) pretty good balance and leg strength, but when it gets to the point where anchoring myself against a wading staff feels more like it will end up with me being forced off the bottom by that pivot point…I tend not to push my luck.
Heading back to the original river, because I’m too stubborn to give up, I found that the couple I had spoken with, earlier, had moved on. Grabbing that spot, I geared back up, walked a bit in the downstream direction of the river, then cut through the brush and came to the river in a better wade-in point.
Still not a lot of good water, as I moved upstream, although certainly nicer to wade in, than the previous visit. When I got to the point where the two downed trees had been completely surrounded in rushing waters, ono opening day, I instead found a patch of still water…and perhaps thousands of cased caddis, in various stages of agitation.
I know, from various books and other sources, that trout are supposed to not like the case on these, as they are comprised of mostly rocks and other hard-to-digest materials, but … given their level of movement around on the rocks, I switched to the other fly type I had tied the previous day.
For some reason, the burnt orange caddis and stimulators seem to be fairly productive for me, on my home waters. On this day, I had hoped that if the fish were seeing any of those cased caddis emerging, showing their adult forms, this might draw more attention.
A few casts later, across the water bulge that pushed up against the root bulb of the downed tree, I got my first hit of the day!
That side pool, directly beyond and also to the right of the root bulb, which normally is too shallow to hold much (compared to areas more in line with the main current) appeared to be housing the displaced fish that the high flow was uprooting from other sections.
I finished my day in this spot, eventually connecting with half a dozen young trout. I’m guessing the older and bigger fish had found the more protected holds, driving the younger ones to less protected waters.
Technically, per the state of Washington, this almost 10″ trout is big enough to retain… but I just don’t do that, as a general rule.
Beautiful day, beautiful fish, and a deep recharge of my core. Can’t overstate the value of time in nature, as I have often said.
I will be back, I’m sure, but a great way to spend Father’s Day. As my wife said: “I’m glad you’re doing something you love on Father’s Day.” Thankfully, I got to do this, then come home to her and our younger daughter, so I checked off both fly fishing and family time!
On the way back, a sideling glance at Rattlesnake Creek… which I still have yet to fish.
I hope everyone had an excellent weekend!
Tight lines…
(p.s. I realized today this had not gone out, last night. Sorry for the delay in posting it!)