Slow walking the sand…

Out on the Laguna, cloud reflection, shoreline in distance, middle of photo

Each morning I’d take the beach road north out of town almost to where it ends. I’d park my rental and then make the twenty to thirty minute hike over the sand dunes and then on to the broad tidal zone leading to the Bay/Laguna. The grassy sections of the dunes held sand flies so I passed through quickly. The wide open tidal zone never had biting insects, nor the Laguna. This zone was either flooded or dry depending on the tidal cycle and wind direction. While walking I’d look for scavenging Coyotes and the small local Deer. I always wonder how they survive on the long thin band of sand they call home. I was on a barrier island along the Gulf of Mexico.

walk to the Laguna

coyote on tidal plain

Once at the edge of the Laguna/Bay I’d pass through a thin line of mangroves and then enter the water. The bay in front of me was one big clear sand flat and shallow, just inches to calf-deep for miles. The bottom was a light tan color and firm. Most areas were fairly barren. Some spots had sparse fine shoal grass growth. Much, much further out there were thicker weed beds. Redfish at times showed-up and prowled the sand shallows in search of food: shrimp, crabs, sea worms and other things. It’s a perfect location to look for them. It’s ideal sight-fishing water. It’s why I made the long journey here.

I’d always arrived at the Laguna early. The sun, if it was out, was usually just cresting the high dunes to the east and as I walked out into the shallows it was at my back. I’d wade westward as that’s the direction that I’d see best. On good weather days the visibility improved and expanded as the morning progressed and the sun climbed the sky. Fishing skiffs were always skimming northward in the mornings, sometimes a mile or more away. I’d always hear them before I’d see them. Several minutes later their boat wake would reach me and push up against my legs. Energy travels a long distance in the ultra shallow Laguna. Boat energy, my energy. A reminder to wade cautiously.

typical bay skiff in town

mixed sky, glare

shrimp fly

The sand shallows always looked promising, especially on the calmer, sunny days. On this trip, however, most days were not sunny. The long range weather forecast looked favorable before I booked my trip and left home. However, weather prediction is often imperfect and seaside climate can be unpredictable and ever-changing. Out of fourteen angling days I had three full sun days. Not a great percentage. However, you have the angling day that you wake-up to. Cloud cover, high wind, some occasional light rain, it didn’t matter…I layered-up and waded the shallows and searched for Redfish. I wore waders during inclement conditions. I happily wet-waded on the warm sunny days.

redfish

Sight-fishing in cloud glare and wind is always challenging. At times it was impossible to see beyond two or three rod lengths. In the tough conditions I caught a few but missed and spooked several fish. On many days on this trip and in the past, I left the Laguna late afternoon frustrated with not being able to see well. I knew great fish were coming in on the sand daily but I had little chance of spotting them. But that’s all part of any angling trip. You have to surrender to and accept what you can’t control, hope things change and appreciate it fully when it does. I tried to do that.

wind foam

gear for the day

When the sun did appear it illuminated the sand. Everything became visible. Everything was revealed. It was confirmation as to why I had come here. It was like flicking on the light switch in a dark room. That’s when there was opportunity. That’s when I had a chance to spot a good one. I’d look for shape; a shape that contrasted with the light colored bottom and above all I watched for movement. Movement catches your eye. Movement gives them away. If I managed myself well when the light was good: stayed alert, concentrated intensely, methodically scanned the water, moved slowly (all the shallow water tactics), then I knew I had a chance to spot one. Then it was up to me to make a good cast. In the clear twelve inches of water my fly impression needed to land “near” the Redfish but not “on” it. Too close and a Redfish in skinny water and on high alert, would bolt.

On a good day, when I could see well, I’d always spot Redfish in the sandy shallows. Never many but some. In high glare windy conditions less. Sometimes I’d see none. All fish spotted on this trip were good ones. I’ve heard of great numbers of schooling and tailing redfish on the richer weed thick westside of the bay but I’ve never witnessed that on the eastside sand flats when I’ve waded them in late Fall and Winter time. Maybe it is just the time of year that I come here. There were no surface disturbances to give their location away. When I’d spot them most were on the move; combing the sand.

Days passed quickly on the sand. By mid-afternoon I’d see best wading eastward, back to shore. By late afternoon the sight-fishing day came to an end. I’d hear the skiffs returning from their journey north. Once again, their wake managed to find me. Some had music blasting: usually heavy Rock, sometimes Rap, sometimes bar brawling Country. I guess song selection was dependant on the age of the captain. I never heard Sinatra.

looking back to shore

It was my third visit to the barrier island. I’ve now spent a total of two months sight-fishing the sand flats. It’s still all new to me: Redfish behavior, their environment, the tides… that’s good. It’s a new angling journey. When I review things at the end of each trip I’m reminded how weather always rules the day and how demanding but rewarding ultra-shallow saltwater fly-fishing can be when on foot. The Laguna is as intriguing, spirited and challenging a fly fishing location as anywhere I’ve been. When the sun lights-up the sand it is simply beautiful and mesmerizing out there, and full of possibility.

All redfish were released safely back to the Laguna..

cooler day

sea trout

POSTSCRIPT

Prior to this trip I had read that a Coffee/ Fly Shop (Los Pescadores Coffee and Outfitters) would be opening on the island probably sometime in the second half of 2024. Their website said that although their storefront was not open yet, an angler could order online and have items mailed, or if in town arrange a curbside pick-up. I had tied many flies for my trip but wanted to purchase some regional redfish patterns, so I arranged a pick-up. I got to meet the owner of the business, Daniel, and the future fly shop manager and guide, Alex. Both super guys. They showed me the space they had rented, spoke about their plans for the coffee and fly shop and overall business. They had a great fly selection and offered angling and location tips on the region. Alex has a skiff, guides and catches impressive fish. Whenever I visit an angling destination it’s a bonus to know there is a Fly Shop nearby. I’ll drop by again. Here is the link: https://www.lospescadores.com/

Season’s End

“For one to fly, one needs only to take the reins” – Melissa James

The dry fly season has come to an abrupt end. Winter showed-up, for now. So I left the rivers and started hiking some nearby trails and met some old friends along the way…

a special day

I had the good fortune in late August to be generously treated and guided by Vic Bergman to a day of angling on an unpressured Cutthroat stream. Vic is the owner of the Crowsnest Angler Fly Shop (see link below) in the Crowsnest Pass , SW Alberta. He has owned the shop for 30 years and guided in SW Alberta and SE British Columbia for 40 years. He is also a photographer (see 2nd link). The creek is one of his favorites. It is as pure and clear as any trout stream on the planet. Vic knew several access points and showed me a series of stunning pools where he anticipated trout would be rising, and they were. All I had to do was make the cast. A special creek and day. Many thanks to him for access to the stream, the day, the exceptional photos and guiding. It was the highlight of my angling season…

All photos by Vic Bergman.

https://www.crowsnestangler.com/ ; https://www.vicbergman.com/

Pale Morning Duns in October

It’s late season and small dry fly angling is an afternoon event on one of my favorite prairie tailwater rivers. The predictable mayfly hatch at this time of year is Baetis/Olives. On the unique river I have been visiting, however, the Pale Morning Dun’s (PMD’s) of summer often come-off through September and even into October, along with the Olives and sometimes a few Mahoganies. Each river has its story…

Some images of trout caught this October, on summertime PMD impressions.

pmd dries, marching to river

Abby

snow in mountains, last week

wet lens brown

Light

“Capturing Nature in its essence is not easy- your work becomes a dance between light and weather…”

Annie Liebowitz, Photographer

Cold mornings. A trace of snow up high. Leaves are dropping. The Larch trees are golden and glow when the sunlight finds them. Bull trout are spawning in the creeks. It’s Fall. There are still a few more weeks of dry fly angling left. Maybe a little more. It’s the best time of year to be on a river. The angling crowds are gone. The campers have thinned out. It’s real quiet out there. And the afternoon light is rich. And exceptional dry fly fishing is all about the light…

clear water illuminated by the sun

searching for treasure

Many miles put in this September wading tough clear freestone rivers with slippery boulders. With the Fall waning light, long shadows and cooler temperatures, hatches, if there are going to be any, are an afternoon event. That’s when the trout become most active and are most likely to rise. That’s when the river comes alive. That’s when a good one may show itself and the time walking and searching can pay- off.

A wild, native trout (Cutthroat) caught on a dry fly while searching in the Autumn afternoon light. Treasure found…

Rumble River

“Let’s Get Ready to Rumble!” – Boxing ring announcer, Michael Buffer.

Rumble river. I never see anyone there. I notice the occasional boot print in riverside mud or silt but it is usually near a road access. And I did spotted a big foam dry fly hanging from a branch by some lower river homes. However, as I walk km after km upstream I generally see no other traces of significant angling pressure. The fish, colorful Cutthroats, have few or no hook marks on them. Most don’t look like they have been handled at all. That’s rare for most regional trout streams. They also fight with every cell in their body. Fish that have been caught over and over simply give up once hooked; offer little resistance; have no spirit. The trout in this river are different. They are more than willing to Rumble and use the fast water, boulders, willow branches, and log jams to their full advantage. Landing a sizeable one is always an accomplishment.

The river is really a stream. It is relatively small, often willow lined and has a significant gradient. Most sections are fast but not all. It has some well defined pools. When insects are on the water, which seems almost daily, trout can be spotted rising in slower sections. The abundance of bug life produces thick and strong trout. The river water is clear. New Zealand clear.

Clear water, challenging terrain, little angling pressure, insect life and sizeable, powerful trout that are willing and ready to Rumble…

Some images from recent outings…

low light bows

Heavy weather means low light. Summertime hatches seem to get more intense during these low fronts. Insects, especially Mayflies, ride the surface longer, especially when it remains calm. Without the sun and wind, emerging wings take longer to dry and therefore “Lift-off” gets prolonged.

Trout, even cautious big ones, seem more willing to risk rising for tiny morsels in low light. Below, some nice low light rainbow trout caught sight-fishing with small Pale Morning Dun dry flies, hook size 16 and 18. Low fronts, low light…your signal to head to the river with your rain jacket and dry flies.

pmd box

hacklestacker pmd’s

the rainmaker

Rancher: ” We don’t believe in rainmakers.”

Bill Starbuck (the Rainmaker): ” What Do you believe in mistah? Dyin’ cattle?”

-The Rainmaker, 1956 film, starring Burt Lancaster

elk river valley fire

On most days forest fire smoke is in the air. All rivers are at historic lows. Reservoirs are emptying. Angling on all rivers shuts down after 2 pm due to poor flows and high afternoon temperatures. This now seems to be the summertime norm. We need rain. We need a lot of it. We need a Rainmaker…

I’ve been fishing where the water is still cold in the headwaters of rivers at elevation. It seems with every new angling season you have to travel further and higher to find water that numbs your feet and legs. 

Some color, some trout, caught on dries…

morning on a cutthroat stream

cutthroat trout

fish the pools but don’t bypass these shady spots

nice rainbow intruding into cutthroat water

 

 

 

cutthroat color

August and some colorful Cutthroats. Their water in the mountains is still cool in spite of the mid-summer heat. Cool but low. Lowest I’ve ever seen.

Also some colorful dry fly patterns tied to pursue them. Old fly patterns: Usuals and Haystacks.

Cutthroats caught on dries. Caught in cool water. Caught sometimes in the slightest of water…

shallow water cutthroat found in shade of tree