PIERRE AND VALERIE, OLD FAMILY FRIENDS, RETURNED to the Crowsnest Pass for a vacation/visit. Pierre and I went the distance fly fishing a few rivers where access was not easy. We were rewarded for our effort and long walks. We witnessed some excellent hatches and rising trout. Just like last year we had several outstanding August days and found some truly stunning Westslope Cutthroat trout. Pierre hit the mark with his casts and kept me busy with the landing net and camera. Harper (Retriever) participated in it all. All trout were caught on dry flies and released. Some images from our recent angling adventure…
There are two streams that I fish that remain clear when it rains; even after a deluge. In contrast, the dozen or so other rivers that I frequent become seriously turbid even with moderate precipitation; they silt-up. The ones that remain remarkably clear are up in the mountains where all the terrain around them is intact. Where most of the land is probably is as it was 200 years ago.
big river pool
The forest that these rivers run through are thick and diverse, and intact. And the forest floor is covered in leaves, moss, fungi, an endless variety of plants, degrading wood and numerous other types of rich organic material, and a complex intertwined root system below it all. When you hike to the river through the forest the ground is soft and spongy. It holds water well. It absorbs and filters the rainfall and melting snow. The forest floor is a vegetative buffer for the stream. The (riverside) riparian zone is also intact. It is treed, has brush and willows, moss covers some of the ground and again a healthy root system exists holding much of the soil/ banks together, even in high water and run-off.
intact bank
When I wade these two rivers I see little or no silt. The river beds are clean. I can see every stone, pebble, every single detail…no sediment covers/blankets the bottom. On the other rivers it is thick in many places; they look like they need to be vacuumed.
early season fast water ties with palmered hackle body for added flotation but clipped on bottom so fly still sits low
These two pristine rivers hold Cutthroat trout. A regional native fish. They are colorful, untamed and robust. They are extremely healthy just like the rivers they inhabit. Their population generally isn’t high. These freestone rivers tend to be fast and turbulent and there are only so many pockets and pools for them to hold in. It is a challenging environment and their feeding season is brief. In spite of this some miraculously manage to survive and even thrive, and these rivers can hold some real gems. Here’s one of those miracles that I came across a few days ago. It was holding in a crystalline flow in one of the Last Old Places…
Some photos from a recent brief fly fishing road trip. The weather turned sunny and hot and the river went quiet. The Pale Morning Dun hatch fizzled-out. Caddis insects were sparse. Trico mayflies started making an appearance…odd for mid-June as it’s usually a mid-summer onward hatch. Anglers reported the weather and water conditions seemed more like late July. Rising trout were hard to find. In addition to the main river I explored some creeks, walked a lot, took some photos, found a few fish, and enjoyed the summer like conditions…
“Fish the way you love to and go find water that favors and honors that…”
AS I DROVE DOWN INTO THE COULEE I could see grey smokey-like clouds hovering and shifting over the river. They were tiny Mayflies. Tricos to be exact. I had witnessed this hatch before, here and elsewhere, and knew it was going to be a morning of possibility. It was 7:30 am when I arrived riverside. No one was around. It was August. A couple of big rainbows were up gorging themselves in the cool morning water on the dense hatch and spinner fall. Catching one was all timing. First I had to gain control of my excitement and shaking hands. Then I had and get the fly right in front of a large mouth when it opened and gulped, then pray the tiny hook would catch and hold. Here’s a rainbow caught that day on a size 20 Trico dry fly.
That was about a decade ago. I had fished the Coulee river intensely for 5 or 6 seasons in a row and considered it the best large wild trout, walk/ wade river I had ever been on in North America. Some rivers had better hatches. Some more rising fish. Some had way more trout per mile. This was the best sight-fishing river. It rivaled some of the rivers I’d experienced on a few trips to New Zealand. On most days the river required a lot of walking and searching to find a few special fish, especially when there were few insects around. I always felt I had to fish well in order to make a connection in the wide open terrain. There were few places to hide from the wary trout.
On most days I’d walk the cattle and deer trails along the ridges and hills of the coulee and search for rainbows in the clear water below. Their dark backs would contrast well with much of the river bottom and they were often easy to spot. In areas where they were more camouflaged I’d look for movement. That would give them away. It was one river that I preferred to fish in full sun.
When I approached one of the many river’s pools I’d watch for trout prowling the shallow edges where they often looked for hatch leftovers and terrestrials like ants, beetles, crickets and in late summer, grasshoppers blown in from the riverside grass. They were big confident fish that didn’t seem to mind the skinny water even though there were often Pelicans and Osprey around. Of course they were always on high alert and never too far from the safety of deeper water. Their cycling patterns were repetitive and often predictable. I’d watch their routes then drop down from my elevated perch on a slope or ridge and try to intercept them along their hunting path. If I stayed low and used the sun’s angle to my advantage I usually wouldn’t be seen. A black beetle on a long leader often enticed them. Most trout would accelerate towards my foam impression once spotted. When they didn’t notice it a small twitch sometimes pulled them over to inspect the slight disturbance which suggested a living thing. Some when approaching slowed down, paused and hovered millimeters from my fly before eating. Some nudged it with their nose. This would usually result in a rejection. I recall one pausing and eyeing my fly at close range then it turned away, circled, then returned to inspect it once again, and ate it. I remember saying to myself, “I’m watching them think”. The river offered some of the most visually engaging angling that I had ever experienced.
Unfortunately the river no longer fishes as well. In recent years I have returned every summer a few times to check it out and hope it is again, what it once was. Hope that it has recovered. But it has not. Repetitive years of drought, low snow pack and significant agricultural water extraction/ diversion have hurt it. The flow, controlled by a dam, remains minimal just about all season long. Basically the river has been choked-off. As a result the water is often warm and is rarely clear. There’s a thick sludge along many of its banks. There are still some fish around but not like there once was. Places I always use to spot trout are often barren. Anglers who nymph the well oxygenated flows at the head of the river’s shrinking pools still catch some quality fish but I’m not into that.
I’m lucky to have witnessed it when it was a remarkable sight-fishery. There was always a chance of a great trout down in the coulee…reel backing required.
Springtime road trip. Montana. It’s always a great feeling to have the time to roam around the west and visit rivers. Before you know it days turn into weeks. When fly fishing all sense of time gets blurred or lost. Moving water contributes to this by being so hypnotic.
I camped with a puppy. We got up at dawn and called it a day at sunset. We were out all day. All four seasons were experienced on the road trip: from Summertime sunshine and warmth; to heavy Spring rains; many Fall frosty mornings and heavy cloud cover; and even a bout of Winter sleet and snow.
snowing in hills
The fly fishing on the large tailwater river I visited was outstanding, There were dense BWO hatches daily and even some March Browns on the lower river. I also had morning action on midges when it was calm. The river was covered with bugs most afternoons into the evening. As always, low wind and cloud covered days were best and I had many. Fish continually showed themselves by feeding on emergers and dries. Every time I visit the river I say to myself: “This is the best dry fly river I’ve ever been on”. Fly selection is always important which adds to the challenge and intrigue.
I spent two weeks walking railway tracks to access different river sections. I hung-out in side channels and around islands when the wind blew. Even in full sun I was usually able to find some rising fish.
It was hard to leave the big river but eventually I drove further south to visit a little spring creek I had been on many years ago near Dillon. There were less bugs there. And I saw few rises. The creek is “pretty as a postcard”. I made just a few very good connections on heavy cloud days, mid week when fewer anglers were around. It’s mainly a Brown trout fishery, which is why I visited it. I discovered the creek gets a lot of angling pressure. Most anglers seem to nymph all the deeper holes/pools. Conditions have to be just right for the trout to show themselves on the surface. Too many anglers passing through and it doesn’t happen.
spring creek
Dillon is a great little western town. Several fly shops. Great services. Character architecture in the old town area. It’s totally manageable. I will return to fish the bigger river nearby, which I spent one day exploring. The flow rate was too high for the way I like to fish while I was there.
spring creek
I hiked a lot of railway tracks to access different river sections at both angling locations. Some of the best rivers that I have fished have train tracks running along them.
Some images of rivers, trout and tracks. Just about all he trout were caught on small dries, mainly on size 18 BWO patterns. A few were taken on larger March Brown patterns, size 14/12.
Fly fishing adventures always inspire thought and more tying; more patterns. A recent saltwater fly fishing trip for Redfish motivated these shrimp creations, size 4 hook, medium-sized bead chain so fly pierces the surface but is still relatively light and not too loud when entering shallow water. I also tie some with small-sized bead chain (lighter) and no bead (no added weight) to land almost silent and to run shallow, in just inches of water…
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/
“LISTEN TO THE RIVER and you will catch a trout” – Irish Proverb
THERE ARE A COUPLE OF RIVERS in my region that produce Skwala stoneflies early in the season. It’s not a significant hatch but sometimes there are enough of them to get the attention of a few good trout. I usually start noticing them while I’m waiting on an afternoon Blue Winged Olive hatch.
Skwalas are relatively big (hook size 10 or 12) and easy to spot in comparison to other early season insects such as Midges and Olives. They are also dark (dark olive sometimes almost black) in color and therefore contrast well on days when a river surface is a silvery-grey which is common on broad, wide open water.
When Skwalas appear I often position myself ankle deep on a large slow moving shallow flat below a riffle. I can usually spot them just as they exit the riffle and begin their long journey over the flat. Due to their size I can follow them for 30, 40, sometimes 50 yards or more before I lose sight. The key is to focus and not take your eyes off of one during its long slow drift. Occasionally one will disappear. This means a shallow water fish has “tipped up” and consumed it. These rises are rarely aggressive such as when trout are focused on the much bigger fluttering stoneflies (Salmon and Golden) later in the season. The feeding is a little more subtle. Sometimes I hear the rise before spotting it. This often happens on a slow moving flat.
Once a rise has occurred I try to mentally mark the location of the trout using the shoreline as a reference point and also estimate its distance from shore. This is easier said than done when one spots a fish 40 yards downstream on a broad river with a somewhat featureless bank and flat featureless water. Once I have an estimated location then I quickly “rock hop” along the freestone shoreline to the approximate location. If there are no other Skwala in the drift then I will prospect the location where I believe the trout was feeding. If there are more Skwala in the flow then I’ll patiently wait for another rise so that I can more accurately pinpoint the fish before making a cast.
In the rivers that I frequent the trout aren’t selective when feeding on this stonefly. Exacting fly patterns aren’t needed. Anything resembling a Skwala is usually taken. I’ve even fished a large, oversized black ant and had a response.
If some Skwalas are around but I don’t see any rises on my favorite shallow flats then I hike to a “collector” area on the river such as back eddy or bay, or a long seam or bubble line where they can get captured. Sometimes I’ll find a good trout feeding there.
Sometimes a Blue Winged Olive hatch never develops and early season Skwala save the day.
I played around with a recent photo of a Redfish I caught fly fishing. It reminds me of a Water Color Fish Print. I’m attracted to the detail. I wish I would have captured the tail in the photo as Redfish have a big dark/ black spot on their tail. In some regions they are called Spot-tail. Photographing a fish way out in a Bay while wading and angling alone is not easy as you are trying to manage the fish and keep your equipment (reel) out of the sand and saltwater, and I had my dog with me who always likes to get up-close to what is on the end of the line. At the same time I’m also trying to release the fish as quickly and as safely as possible…
I was able to locate a few nice surface feeding trout last weekend in spite of the full sun and few insects. Their rises were inconsistent and subtle. If I didn’t know the river section I was on real well, I would have never seen them or I should say “hear them”. On the broad shallow flats that I like to fish, below or to the side of a good run, it is often the sound of a rising fish that first catches my attention. When I hear something I focus on the water in the region where I think the sound emanated from. I often take several soft steps up or downstream to change my visual angle depending on the light and glare. Most importantly I try to be patient, refrain from casting and wading, and wait for another sound or even better a surface disruption. Sometimes I hear the fish multiple times before I can actually visually pinpoint its location especially when the lighting situation is challenging. Usually these trout are closer to shore than I originally thought. If I was in a hurry and didn’t take the time to locate them, I probably would wade right through their feeding position, or cast over them and they would be off to the safety of deeper water.
cuttbow
Many drift boats/rafts beach on the flats that I frequent. Anglers generally get out of their boat, immediately wade through the shallow relatively calm flat to reach the main current flow or edge where they repeatedly work their nymph rigs. Usually they catch fish. However with this tactic they miss some of the best visual angling that the river has to offer. Some large trout like to feed lazily on the slow water flats. They slide in from deeper water and position themselves wherever there is some sort of gentle current channeling drifting food. If you can find (see or hear) one of these subtle feeders and make a connection, you are in for a real treat. A large trout hooked on a shallow flat heads for deeper water at breakneck speed. Often they take me into my backing.
slow flat off of main flow
When sight-fishing I always try to pick a shallow flat where the sun is going to be on my back. If it is cloudy it does not matter as trout rise more frequently and confidently when the light is low and a hatch, if there is going to be one, will be stronger.
The featured trout were caught on the shallow flats of a local tailwater river.
