SOME FREESTONE CREEK dry flies and a flawless Cutthroat from an outing last week…
HOT
It was a 30 minute drive up into the mountains and the Cutthroat river. My car thermometer read 34c/ 94f. A smoke haze was in the air from fires in British Columbia (B.C.). It made the Rocky Mountains look like they were fading away. It seems B.C. now burns every July and August, and sometimes even into September. Northern Alberta too. My dog, in the back seat, was panting even though I had all the car windows down. I never use the air conditioning (AC). One exception was when I was driving home from a fishing trip in Baja in mid- June and was stuck for hours in border traffic in Mexicali city, Mexico. It was 42c/107f that day. Abby, my last dog, appreciated the cool air blasting from the cabin vents. She also appreciated the rolled-up windows as hundreds of border vendors went from vehicle to vehicle trying to sell their wares: hats, cool drinks, fruit, trinkets. Some had nothing and were simply begging. There were men, women, young children, and even very elderly people in the late afternoon 42C plus heat walking the hot asphalt trying to make a sale just 10 yards from the California border. This wasn’t an Acapulco, Cancun or Puerto Vallarta scene. Nor was it a depiction of idyllic Mexican rural life in a Diego Rivera painting. This was a “Behind the Curtain” look at Mexico. This was raw desperation and poverty I witnessed as I inched along the tall rusted metal border wall until I reached the heavily guarded portal that delivered me to the north. Justified or not, when I crossed the border I muttered to myself that “Mexico doesn’t look after its people”.
COLD
When I entered the mountain river at 11am my water thermometer read, 10c/ 51f. Almost half the air temperature. By 2pm the river was only 54f and my feet still numb. The stream had stayed cold in spite of two solid weeks and now entering a third week of extreme heat. One small creek that feeds the river was still flowing. Last year it was dry in late July. I thought that there was probably still some snow melting up high. It was probably one of many creeks helping the river stay cold when many lower elevation rivers were warming well into the 15c plus/60f and some approaching 20c/70f. Cold water in July and August is always good for trout and fishing.
The Cutthroat that I spotted in the slower flows were selective. I was able to fool some with spring creek type (barbless) dry fly patterns. Cutthroat are often regarded as being easy to catch. That’s not always true. Each Cutthroat stream is different and has its idiosyncrasies. There are no absolutes. The one I was on is usually quite challenging, especially as summer marches on and especially in the pools and slower sections. The river doesn’t hold a lot of trout. It is a quality over quantity river. Here are a couple of healthy fish that I connected with.
” Life is trying things to see if they work”…Ray Bradbury
Winter tying. It’s how you stay in the game mid- winter when it’s -25C outside. You can’t travel anywhere far. So you dream of warmer weather and open rivers, and you tie flies for the next opportunity. You tie for when the door opens and you get to walk through. Here are some summertime options for when the sun is warm again. Some big and small, leggy things…
It’s winding down. Most rivers close at the end of the month. A nice weekend. Sunny on Saturday. Warm. Fished in shorts. Minimal wind. No surface feeding. The water looked dead. Lifeless. Late afternoon, when shadows were lengthening, I decided to sit and watch a pool. Noticed the occasional bright green grasshopper drifting by. Waited. Waited. Then a sizeable surface disturbance. Casted a small greenish hopper pattern…the only good fish of the day.
SEPTEMBER. IT HAS BEEN CHALLENGING. FEW BUGS ON the tailwater rivers I frequent and therefore few rising trout. I’ve had some luck searching the shallows for moving shadows and prospecting the deeper water with terrestrial patterns. I recently had ten days off of work so I was able to spend some full days on the water. So far September has been beautiful. Smokey at times from the fires west of here, also a few brief cold snaps but generally warm mid-day into early evening. I was able to wet-wade the past several days. Rivers are low and most clear. Tourists are gone. Few anglers around. It’s silent out there. My favorite time of year to spend a day, or ten, on my favorite rivers. Some fine trout on dry flies…
Hot. Let me repeat, Hot. Full sun. Blue skies. Everything is dry. Fire ban on. Forest fires one province over in BC. Smoke could be on the way.
On my favorite rivers few bugs. Hatches have been weak all summer long. Not many rising trout. You have to hunt to find the odd one. Challenging out there.
With the pandemic everyone seems to be outdoors camping. It’s real busy in my region. It’s busy on the rivers: rafters, kayakers, swimmers, and many, many anglers. More than usual. Can’t find parking in some of my favorite spots. Challenging out there.
Some photos from the past few weeks. All trout caught on small dry flies: mainly Pmds, Ants and Beetles.
“Cause a little bit of summer is what the whole year is about”
John Mayer
Late July. Summer. It took forever to get here. The sun is blasting. It’s even warm in the early morning. That’s rare in the Rocky Mountains. The local ice cream shop is packing them in. My lawn is burning. Abby, my dog, is lazier than heck. The kitchen ceiling fan is spinning. Thunderheads build in the late afternoon heat. A lot of storm watch alerts. Blankets on the vehicles to protect them from hail.
Friends have been in town. Long days spent wet wading the rivers. Fishing until darkness. Little time spent indoors or for other things. That’s alright, it’s summer. And where I live it’s brief. It’s just a flicker. Catch it while you can…
Lots of fish pics. Few people pics. Some dog pics. Most trout featured caught sight-fishing with dries/emergers, size 16-18.; mainly Pale Morning Duns with thorax built with Golden Retriever hair. A few trout taken on beetles and crickets.
“For as long as I can remember, my nickname was Dusty. I remember my Dad naming me that because of the streets where we lived”.
Dusty Rhodes
I PURCHASED a neglected old Miners home in SW Alberta 17 years ago. I’ve been working on it since. It’s tiny and really just a cottage. The best thing about it is that it is in the the heart of Trout Country: right near the Crowsnest river and many other spectacular flows. You would have a hard time finding a better fly fishing location anywhere in North America. Winters can be brutal (that’s Canada) but most summers are picture perfect on the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains. The rivers are clear, insects often hatch and trout rise, and there is a great fly shop (Crowsnest Angler) just down the street. For years I’ve wanted to name my home and have a sign made. Time flies! Seventeen years later here it is. The cottage is small, it’s a faded blue color and has a lot of green foliage around it in the summertime. I named it after a hatch on my local river…the “Blue Winged Olive Cottage”.
I was on the Crowsnest river this past weekend. Sunday was a rare nice day and warm. It felt like Spring! Some Midges were out in the afternoon, however, no fish were up on the section I was on. I even saw a couple of Blue Winged Olives at about 4pm. Just a few but promising. With no rises I started focusing on the river bottom instead of the surface. It’s a completely different type of looking. Through the river glare I eventually spotted a few dark shadows creeping along the bottom mid-pool. They would travel upstream six feet or so then drop back a bit, and then repeating the cycle. They were active. They were feeding. I managed one on a size 18 PT nymph with a cassette tape wing case and a small black beadhead. A dull fly; no shine to it. I landed a classic Crowsnest river rainbow. No hook marks. It was nice to be out sitting riverside in the sun. Nice to sight-fishing again. A new season.