Rim stream and Rain…

It has been some time since I been to one of my favorite creeks on the Rim. This creek has taught me so much about fly fishing over this past year and has been my trusty standby when I need a day to myself. I fish it so often that I have more or less memorized the flows and the pools of the stream and have a fairly good idea where most of the big boys are hiding, even though I always spook them. This stream is full of vibrantly colored wild rainbows, most of whom are 5-8 inches with a few that bump up to 13. The creek is also full of resident browns who feed off the plethora of crayfish and smaller rainbows.

Yesterday, I awoke early with the whole day in front of me with nothing to do but fish. As I drove along the base of the Rim, everything was soaked from rain the night before. Monsoon season has hit this region and more rain was called for in the evening. I parked the truck and quickly geared up and as I stood along the side of the creek my heart sank a little. The stream was slightly swollen and was running off color and in my mind I was thinking this would make dry fly fishing difficult. Having already tied on my standard parachute, I decided to fish a pool or two with it before switching things up and on my first cast brought a feisty brown to hand. From that point on, fish in every pool came out to play and latch on to my #12 Adams parachute. Throughout the day I caught countless rainbows and the intermittent brown.

As I worked my way up the creek through the familiar pools I came to one of the several pools that I know holds big browns. I always slow down and take a seat on a rock and just study the pool for a few minutes, catch my breath and come up with a plan that usually fails. Normally, the pool is crystal clear and once the smaller fish in the back spook, the big boys in the front are long gone. With the heavy cloud cover and off color water, luck was in my corner. I crept through the willows and played out a little bit of line while casting close to the bank. As my fly lazily sat on the water I saw a large trout slowly rise and inhale the bug. I set the hook into a freight train and started praying that my 5x tippet would be able keep up. At that inopportune time, I also realized that my net was hanging in the closet back home and was not going to be much use. After struggling to keep this fish out the weeds and away from several deadfalls I cradled the 18 inch brown in my hands for a quick photo and then released him back to his home to grow bigger for next time. It was truly a great experience pulling such a large fish from this small stream and it put me on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

Towards midday I tied on one of my new ties, the mini-hopper. They worked extremely well and on two separate occasions I had two fish jumping together for this fly. All the colors worked, although the brighter ones were easier to see, and I will be tying more of these for these next few months. I continued fishing even thought the rain started in the afternoon and decided it was in my best interest to turn around once the lightening and thunder chimed in. On the way out with the ground quiet from the rain, I walked right up on two small Coues bucks still in velvet. It really started me thinking about setting up stands for the quickly approaching archery season. My day was a success even though it was cut short by the inclement weather and I was extremely happy that I had got my lazy butt out of bed.

Mini Hoppers

Spent some time at the bench and tied up these balloon caddis with legs. I feel like the will offer an alternative to the larger Hopper Juans that I have been tying and fishing. On Arizona’s small streams, the bigger hoppers tend to make quite a splash which often spook wary trout. I felt these mini hoppers tied on #12-16 better represent the crickets and smaller hoppers found in this state and they are much quicker to tie. We will see how my hypothesis works out next time on the water.

Trip East Part 2 – Adirondack Small Stream

I spent most of my childhood in a small lake town in the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York. Being surrounded by endless miles of pine trees and water that ran cold all year long, I developed that fondness for the outdoors that now seems to take up every waking free moment. This past week I went back to that sleepy little town that I called home but some things were different. I have a wife and responsibilities that I suppose have changed me and given me a new perspective on life. Luckily for me, my beautiful bride enjoys her sleep and can often times be found sleeping in until the the two hands point to noon. I took advantage of this time and woke early to chase trout on those waters that I had not visited in some years.

Monday morning was a dark drizzly day with the clouds clinging to the mountains and laying low on the water. It was a refreshing change from the dry heat that plagues Arizona and even though I was drenched in just a few minutes, I was happy to be on the stream. The stream I chose was only 15 minutes from my mom’s house and situated next to the cabin of my friend Tony Tenda, but  this stream has the rare quality of being full with native brook trout. The number of these creeks has been in decline since the early 1900s but recent efforts to save native fish habitats has helped to stop and even reestablish certain lakes back to their original state. Upon stepping into the stream, I caught a small brook trout on the second cast and the world became a little less complicated. I fished up the stream for maybe a half mile and caught fish in all the likely spots. After a few hours, I turned around and headed back to the vehicle.

Tuesday, I decided to change my tactics and fished the tailwater of a small lake where in previous summers had caught countless trout and seen a friend lose a monster fish. I fished again for several hours and had a fish chase a bugger in and several hits but no other action. With nothing happening, I opted to cut my losses and head home.

With one final day of fishing, I struggled between fishing the same stream that I had on Monday or opting for a completely new stream that I had never fished. The lure of catching fish called to me and I decided on the tried and true from earlier in the week. I was not disappointed. I fished hard and fast and covered more water than I had on the first day. There was so much positive looking water I was tempted to stay all day and just keep fishing. Brook trout rose to my number 12 Adams Wulff and I was extremely pleased with all of the beautiful fish that I caught. I ended up leaving my camera in my pocket and just quick released most of the fish in the water. I could not help taking a photo of the monster 13 inch that swallowed my dry fly. All of these fish came with bright orange underbellies and the pictures do not do them justice.

My trip was complete and I was extremely happy with my time on the water. Fishing some of these old haunts brought those nostalgic feelings and made me realize that I had been surrounded by some of the best fishing on the East Coast. Arizona is a wonderful state, but the Adirondacks hold so many secrets that provide a lifetime of exploring. Where ever I fish, I always feel an ache every time I leave. Schroon Lake was no different. When I head back next summer, I look forward to catching that brook trout again once he has grown a little bit bigger.

Trip East Part 1 – Highland Lake, PA

I grew up moving from house to house around the states of New York and Pennsylvania. During the 18 years of my life at home one place remained constant, Grandma’s Cottage. This cottage has been in my family for several generations and I imagine it will always remain a family heirloom to be shared and enjoyed together. Every summer, my brothers and I would spend weeks swimming, boating, fishing, and playing cards with friends and family at “Kamp Karefree” as it has lovingly been named. As we get older, the torch falls to our younger cousins who live closer to discover everything that the cottage has to offer. After Michelle and I touched down in Albany, NY, we spent the night in Schroon Lake and then made our way south to PA for a weekend of clambakes and barbecues. We spent three days at Highland Lake enjoying the company of family and the beauty that the lake offers. The weekend of course would not be complete unless I could break out the fly rod and fish the same waters that had taught me so much as a boy.

To be honest, the fishing did not live up to my recollections. Water temps were high and most of the bass and walleye had moved to deeper waters. I managed to pick up one bass early on the first morning but the rest of the weekend held innumerable amounts of sunfish and bluegills. I remember when I was younger, I only carried one lure with me for my spin rod, a gold standard rapala. Times were good and I would throw to the bank and reel in fish after fish. One great experience occurred during this trip, when my two younger cousins, Daniel and Pete, wanted to go fishing one morning. So we loaded up the rowboat grabbed the fishing poles and headed to some likely looking spots. Sunfish were on the menu, but these two were astonished and slightly peeved at the amount of fish that I was catching off my standard Simi Seal Bugger. So I took off their lures and tied on some very heavily weighted Buggers and turned them loose. By the end of our short fishing expedition, I was fairly certain I had converted two new fly fishermen.

The weekend was gorgeous and the bright sun kept everyone down by the lake and in the water. It is always difficult to leave the lake and all the magic that happens there. The ride home is always a little longer than the trip there. I count the days until I can go back to Kamp Karefree.

Blue Skies and Brown Trout

I struggled to get out of bed Tuesday in order to meet Pete and get to the Rim at a decent time. We were off in short order and were on the creek by 7:30, but the first fish did not come for an hour. While the sun slow baked the valley to a comfortable 110, our day started at a perfect 66 degrees and slowly warmed to the low 80s. It never ceases to amaze me how one can drive an hour and a half and drop 30 degrees. I stuck to the top water throwing a tarantula pattern that had been given to me some time ago, and I found that hugging the bank with the fly would produce good fish. Most all of the fish brought to hand were healthy brown trout in the 10-12 inch range with a few pushing the bounds of 14  inches. It was a short day on the creek but extremely rewarding with the fish and wildlife we saw.

New Mexico

My friend Travis invited Michelle and I to his in-laws ranch in New Mexico for the 4th. The ranch is located north of Reserve outside of the little town of Apache Creek. I brought my fly rod along hoping to get a few hours of time to check out some of the local creeks.

I first stopped at Tularosa River later in the afternoon and rigged my rod up for about an hour.  The portion of “river” (and I use that term loosely) ran though pastureland which I gather must have impacted it’s quality. The river was small with places to step across but the water was full of crawfish and some type of fish, which I imagine were chubs. The afternoon sun made it difficult to fish and time restraints pushed me back to the ranch.

The next day, Travis and I woke up early and met an old timer who was going to drive us to a remote spot on the San Francisco River where hopefully we could get into some fish. From the hills above the river we were pretty excited about our prospects but as we walked along the river we were sadly disappointed. The cattle had done a number on the stream bed which was extremely silty and the river flowed very wide and slow. What little quality river the cattle had left had been further decimated by beavers who had chewed down most every tree in the two miles of river we walked. On our way back to the truck we were fairly disappointed that we did not even see a fish, but I stopped at the three fishy looking holes and threw a simi seal bugger with legs into each of these holes. All three held at least one fish and I actually hooked up with one of them but he quickly jumped off. It was a tough morning and left our spirits fairly low.

That evening the whole group made our way to Quemado Lake to try out the fishing there. In the hour and a half we spent on the shore, the wind put up a pretty serious fight. After helping to rig up some poles for the kids, I briefly attempted to throw my 3 weight into the steady wind. After throwing everything and no luck, everyone packed up and headed back ranch.

This was my first time to the area and these were the closest pieces of water. After taking some time to think about it here are some things that I would do different:

Tularosa River – After doing some more reading I probably was too far downstream to see any real success. Add the fact that it was 3:00 in the afternoon in New Mexico and there is no big surprise I did not catch anything. In the future I would head farther up.

San Francisco River – Although from above this river looked great, upon closer inspection the section of river we fished was such poor quality. If I went back, I would make a day trip and hike to the Box where the reports are better. In truth, I learned much about the fragile nature of a stream and how outside forces can be extremely destructive to a fishery.

Quemado Lake – Bring the 5 weight and boat/float tube

In closing, there were several other waters that were close that I did not have time to check out and creeks and rivers that were a little bit of a drive that also had positive reports. The Gila Wilderness is also not far and could offer many opportunities to fish new water. I look forward to getting back to New Mexico and scouring this area for productive water.

New Water…

Pete and I spent a couple days on the Rim and had some success getting into some fish. We must have been right behind the hatchery truck because we were catching an insane amount of rubbery stockers at most of the road crossings. Catching stockers is enjoyable but not my favorite thing in the world; so we moved farther upstream and found several ideal holes where several larger fish were lurking. Gorgeous weather greeted us in the mornings, but both days saw ominous thunderheads rolling over the Rim in the late afternoon. The name of the game was the simi-seal leeches drifted deep under an indicator. I really like using simi-seal because it is so colorful and catches the light really well. This product is also extremely efficient so I can knock out tons of these leeches in a short amount of time. In the end, the new water we fished was very promising and I look forward to getting back up there and going much further upstream to see what this unique stream holds.

Trifecta…

Brookie

Rainbow (Don’t laugh)

Brown

Backpacking…

I like to camp. I like to hike. I like to fly fish and hunt. Put those together and it was only a matter of time before I would be investing (sinking some serious coin) into some backpacking gear. Since recently getting married, I convinced my beautiful and easygoing wife to join me in the investment and we soon found ourself perusing the maze of gear at a few different outdoors stores. The first thing that really smacks you across the face is the simple glance at the price tag. Quality (and I use that term loosely) gear is less than affordable and the price can quickly spiral out of control. We decided to start with the basics but to also by quality gear that would stand up to years of abuse. Backpacks and sleeping bags were the big ticket items that put a dent in the budget, but in the end we were both pleased with our purchases. Two other important items also made the cut: water purification system and a jet boil with a French press attachment. The jet boil is not the smallest or the lightest product, but I will sacrifice the extra weight for a quality cup of joe in the morning or mid-morning or lunch or whenever seems appropriate. We already had an extremely nice tent that is sufficient for our current trips, so that relieved another expense that really would have put us in the weeds.

Michelle and I are avid car campers, having made our way across the United States last summer, but this was our first real backpacking expedition. We wanted to keep things simple, short, and relatively close to home. We opted to visit the tall pines and cool water that are afforded to the hiker at the West Fork of Oak Creek. In order to camp on this trip, the hiker is forced to go a minimum of six miles to get out of Red Rock and into the Wilderness area. The first three miles is relatively easy with the last three being a little more demanding with several areas to wade and bushwhack. With a little bit of a late start, we arrived at Call of the Canyon parking lot and started on our journey. We made our six miles in relatively good time, set up camp in a beautiful location, and made ourselves some dinner. The light still hung in the sky so I broke out my fly rod and fished the couple hundred yards below camp with nothing to show. We played a few hands of cards and then crawled exhausted into our sleeping bags.

I arose early and as is my lady’s custom, she slept late. I spent an hour or so, just sitting and being still, enjoying a marvelous cup of coffee in the peace and quiet that only God’s creation can share. The world seems to truly come alive when one becomes quiet and just looks and listens to all the creatures, rocks, and trees around them. As I sat, the sun crested the hill and made it’s way higher into the sky chasing the shadows out of the canyon. After breakfast, we broke camp and made our way back to the car. The pack out was much faster than the pack in with dreams of Subway dancing in our heads and quickening or pace. We arrived at the car dirty, tired, and hungry but very much alive and happy.

Our experience overall was positive. Everyone had a good time and we learned much about what is necessary and what is not. We look forward to a few more trips this summer with our goal at some point to hike into the Grand Canyon and then back out. It is a pretty tall order but one that could be done if we put our mind to it.

WMA Reservation…

Since moving to this state I have heard stories and read accounts of the White Mountain Apache Reservation and the miles of trout water that can be found there. Pete and I spent Thursday and Friday driving around, getting lost, and sampling several different locations found in the heart of the Reservation. Having never been to that part of the state and armed with a few very inaccurate maps, our goal was to see what was there and really get our bearings for future trips. The fishing was slow and much time was lost trying to figure out where we were and where we were going but in my opinion the trip was a success.

Our first stop was on the North Fork of the White River where we first set up camp and hiked up from the campground in the afternoon. Our first hint about the fishing should have been the large numbers of campers there on a Thursday with more than a few with a stringer full of trout. Most of the sites were full and even though we walked a mile or two we only had a few hookups a piece with no fish brought to the net. The evening was spent around a campfire discussing the following day’s options. We awoke for coffee and found that we had two large steers as breakfast guests. After breaking down camp we made our way to a small stream (shown above) flowing from one of the high mountain lakes and spent an hour or more exploring the canyon. One small rainbow came out to play in a stream that looked unable to support any life whatsoever. We climbed out the canyon, had a bite to eat and blundered our way to Earl Park, a fly fishing designated catch and release lake. The time that we spent fishing this lake was not ideal being in the middle of the afternoon. We stayed at the lake for roughly three hours but the wind was so steady and miserable, we opted to check out one more spot before we embarked on our trip home. The East Fork of the White River was by far the most appealing piece of water that we stepped foot into with perfect pocket water and a multitude of bugs coming off the water. Despite these near perfect conditions, we did not have any luck connecting on any fish and darkness soon pushed us back to the truck and onto the road for the long ride back to town.

Overall, this trip to arguably one of the most beautiful spots in Arizona did not turn out like I had imagined. In planning, I had envisioned multitudes of fish being brought to my net, but that was not to be the case. Instead, much of our time was spent driving and scouting the area that was largely unmarked which made it difficult to accurately navigate the confusing backroads of the reservation. In the end, the experience and information gathered over the two days was extremely beneficial and I look forward to getting back to the White Mountains to put that information to good use.