Tag: brown trout

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Episode 49: Making Sense of Leaders and Tippet

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Which leaders and tippet work best with a size #8 beadhead woolly bugger? No matter how many articles an aspiring fly fisher reads, he or she has to learn the hard way. It’s nearly impossible to sling a big streamer with a 6x tippet. You really need at least a 3x or 4x tippet before you can cast Mr. Woolly Bugger with any kind of accuracy and confidence. In this episode, we lay out the basics of leaders and tippet.

Listen to Episode 49: Making Sense of Leaders and Tippet

At the end of each episode, we have a feature called “Great Stuff from Our Listeners.” We read a few of the comments from this blog or from our Facebook page. We enjoying hearing from our readers and listeners, and appreciate your advice, wisdom, and fly fishing experience. Please add your ideas to the creative mix.

When it comes to leaders and tippet, any hacks that you’ve discovered for matching tippet to fly?

Here is a handy chart on when to use which tippet size: How to Choose the Right Tippet Size.

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Why We Love Fly Fishing Small Creeks

My podcast partner, Dave, and I have had some fantastic days on big rivers. One spring we both had 20-inch rainbows on at the same time in the Madison River.

We’ve both landed big browns in the Lower Madison, and we’ve had a blast catching cutthroats feasting on hoppers in the Yellowstone River.

But it is the small creeks that we find irresistible.

Even on our trips to Montana or Wyoming, we always devote at least one day to fly fishing a small creek. Here are five reasons why we find small creeks so charming—and why you may want to make them part of your fly fishing experience as well.

Small creeks get less pressure

I wonder how many times I have seen the Yellowstone River in Montana’s Paradise Valley look like rush hour in Chicagoland, with all the drift boats making their way down the river.

Yet the little creeks — such as Pine Creek, Mill Creek, and Big Creek — are abandoned.

Recently, Dave and I fished the Driftless in southeast Minnesota. We had plenty of company on the South Fork of the Root River, but we spend most of our time on a little creek that emptied into the river. Canfield Creek turned out to be a gem. We had it all to ourselves, and the browns were happy to rise to our elk hair caddis flies.

Small creeks bring out the hunter in us

Small creeks require us to go into stealth mode.

When I fish my favorite runs in the Yellowstone or Madison Rivers, I rarely need to sneak up to the bank on my hands and knees. But that’s what it takes to fly fish a small creek. The run you want to fish in a small creek is only a couple feet away from where you’re kneeling rather than a dozen feet away as is often the case in a bigger river.

These runs in small creek are typically more shallow than the ones in a river, so a fly fisher is simply more visible to the fish. Maybe all this sneaking through the brush reminds me of bow-hunting elk.

Whatever the case, operating in stealth mode is part of the fun.

Small creeks require more precision

To be honest, this is a reason to hate fly fishing small creeks as well as to love it.

It’s not that big rivers allow you to make sloppy casts. But they are more forgiving.

A river may give you a foot-wide window for placing your fly. But in a small creek, that window often closes to a couple of inches. Short, gentle, target-specific casts are the order of the day when fly fishing a small creek. The challenge is usually fun, although some days it will drive you crazy.

Small creeks are easier to wade

This is the middle-aged man in me speaking.

A day of wade-fishing the Yellowstone leaves me weary. It’s a combination of fighting the swift current while trying to keep from slipping as I step from one slick rock to another.

Recently when Dave and I fished a couple small creeks, the pedometer on his cell phone indicated that we walked about seven miles (full disclosure: some of those steps were to and from a great little café in Preston, Minnesota). I was surprised we had walked that far because my legs and feet were hardly tired at all. That’s the benefit of a day of ankle-deep and calf-deep wading.

Small creeks are home to some large trout

For the most part, the trout are smaller in small creeks, and neither Dave nor I mind a bit.

I get as much joy landing a ten-inch rainbow in a small creek as I do a twenty-inch rainbow in a large river.

Last week I caught an eleven-inch brown on a dry fly in a small creek, and it made my day. But occasionally, you’ll catch a monster in a small creek. Recently, I fly fished the Boulder River in Montana in a mountainous stretch where the “river” is really a small creek. For several years, I had caught mainly eight- to twelve-inch fish. But one afternoon, when it began to rain lightly and the trout went into a feeding frenzy, I caught a fifteen-inch rainbow and then a sixteen-inch rainbow on consecutive casts.

Then the rain stopped, and so did the fishing. This experience reminded me that bigger trout lurk in these small streams. They are harder to catch, but everyone once in a while you’ll hook into one of them.

Enjoy your next trip to a big river. But don’t overlook the smaller streams that flow into it. Your best day of the trip might be on a creek that everyone else has neglected.

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Episode 46: One Magical Day on the River

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Ever have a magical day on the river? Of course you have. But such days tend to be less common than we imagine. In this episode, we recount a magical day on the river that we know will never be repeated. Three of us fly fished a stretch of water on a warm August day when the trout feasted on hoppers and the runs seemed endless. May the memory never dim.

Listen to Episode 46: One Magical Day on the River

We’ve recently introduced a feature to our podcast – “Great Stuff from Our Listeners.”

At the end of each episode, we read a few of the comments from the blog or from Facebook. We appreciate your advice, wisdom, and experience. Please add your ideas to the creative mix.

Do you have a day on the river to remember? We’d love to hear your stories.

Also, don’t forget to visit Casting Across, a blog we mention in the podcast.

Download a Podcast App on Your Smartphone

Be sure to subscribe to our podcast feed. You can do that on your smartphone or tablet by downloading a podcast app. The most common app used by 2 Guys feed subscribers is “Podcasts.”

View some of our most recent podcast episodes on iTunes or on Stitcher, if you have an Android.

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Episode 42: Spring Fly Fishing Success

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Spring fly fishing is filled with the promise of warmer days and blue skies, rain and snow, and spawners and browns. It feels so good to be back along and in the river. Listen to Episode 42: Spring Fly Fishing Success as you make ready for your next wonderful day in the great outdoors.

Listen to Episode 42: Spring Fly Fishing Success

We’ve introduced a new feature to our podcast – “Great Stuff from Our Listeners.” At the end of each episode, we read your great comments, adding your ideas to the creative mix.

Post your ideas for spring fly fishing success; we’d love to hear from you.

Download a Podcast App on Your Smartphone

Be sure to subscribe to our podcast feed. You can do that on your smartphone or tablet by downloading a podcast app. The most common app used by 2 Guys feed subscribers is “Podcasts.”

View our complete list of podcast episodes on iTunes or on Stitcher, if you have an Android.

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11 Reasons You’re Not Catching Trout

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Catching trout is not easy today. You are batting .000. Maybe the fish are simply not biting. Or maybe you’re not catching trout because of one or more of these 11 reasons:

1. It’s a bright sunny day.

Not always, but I’ve often had better luck on overcast days, especially for BWOs (blue winged olives), which is a common hatch during the spring. Catching trout on cloudy days tends to be pattern for me.

2. Your fly is too big.

Whether you’re nymphing or on the surface, drop a size or two. Go smaller. Make sure you have multiple sizes of the same fly in your fly box.

3. You cast like your mama.

Unless your mama wears wading boots. Figure out a way to false cast less. Precision casting is supposed to be hard. It’s even harder on smaller streams with trees and brush. Catching trout is tied to how well you cast.

4. Your dead drift looks like a rubber ducky with spasms.

Your presentation is almost always the problem. Your fly simply doesn’t look like an insect, dead or alive. Try harder.

5. You scared ‘em.

You should not have walked up to the run like a drunk Abominable Snowman. Crawl next time. On your hands and knees.

6. The run was just fished.

Find a smaller stream with no crowds. Stop fishing the popular rivers during vacation season or on weekends.

7. It’s too early.

Yes, if you want huge browns, then maybe fishing at 4:30 in the morning is a good idea. But if you are fishing hoppers in mid August, for example, sometimes the action doesn’t heat up until late morning.

8. You haven’t moved in 30 minutes.

Remember, fly fishing isn’t bass fishing from shore. Keep moving. After a handful of casts, move on. Find the next run.

9. The river is blown out.

If the river is muddy, why are you fly fishing? Some color may be okay, but if the stream is like chocolate milk, head back to your truck, jump on your phone, and watch Netflix.

10. You’re not deep enough.

Add some split shot to your nymphing rig. Or add some tippet length to your dropper. How often are you bumping the bottom? Every so often is about right.

11. You have the wrong fly.

This should not be your go-to move when you are not catching trout. But if there is a Trico hatch going on and you’re throwing a size #14 parachute Adams, you’ll swear a lot before noon. Know your hatches and patterns.

Give these tips a try, and perhaps your luck will change. You might even impress your mama.

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Episode 37: Why We Fly Fish

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Why we fly fish is personal and subjective. Our reasons are probably not the same as yours. In this podcast, we get a bit more philosophical and reflective as we try to describe fly fishing’s strong pull on our lives. Why we fly fish is both simple and complex.

Why Do You Fly Fish?

What are the reasons you are a fly fisher? We’d love to hear from you. Please post your insights below!

Don’t Miss a Podcast Episode!

Be sure to subscribe to our podcast feed. You can do that on your smartphone or tablet by downloading a podcast app. The most common app used by 2 Guys feed subscribers is “Podcasts.”

View our complete list of podcast episodes on iTunes or on Stitcher, if you have an Android.

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Why Great Days on the Water Are Hard to Remember

Great days on the water are hard to remember. They just are. Last summer, Dave and I had one of our best days ever on the water. A friend invited us to fish a creek in a remote area of Montana. We fished a stretch that meandered through a large ranch, miles from any fishing access. In recent years, the ranch owners have allowed few people to fish on their property. They have saved it for veterans, particularly wounded warriors.

But thanks to our friend, Dave and I were invited to spend a day on the creek.

Slow to Crazy

The day began slow, with a trico hatch that, as Dave said, “I just didn’t have the energy to fish.” Tricos are so small, and we came prepared to fish terrestrials, the big bugs. This was one of the last days of July, and it was warm. The creek was small, but we wore waders, in case we stumbled across a sunning rattlesnake.

About mid morning, the trout began to rise to hoppers – and just about anything else that was big and floated. And they never stopped. By mid-afternoon, Dave and I had each landed over forty trout apiece. They were mostly browns and rainbows, most in the 14-16 inch range. We also landed a few brookies and a couple West Slope Cutthroat.

The crazy thing is that I can’t recall any particular fish I caught. That’s unusual. I usually remember the 17-inch brown that emerged from an undercut bank to attack my hopper pattern. Or the 16-inch rainbow that darted to the surface to snatch a Royal Trude as it drifted by a rock. However, I don’t remember anything like that. I have a couple photos of rainbows I caught. Both are striking fish with their crimson stripes against their dark bodies. But I don’t recall catching either one of them.

Great Days on the Water and Angler’s Amnesia

So why do I seem to have angler’s amnesia when it comes to those fish? I have some theories:

First, I think my inability to remember a particular fish was due in part to sensory overload. Catching 40+ fish is an exhilarating experience. I highly recommend it, and I would love to do it again. But the more fish you catch, the less any particular fish leaves an indelible mark on your memory. Maybe that’s the beauty of days when you catch only a half-dozen fish, and one of them is a plump nineteen-incher. I caught a rainbow trout like that a decade ago between Quake and Hebgen Lake. I fished all morning and only caught one other trout. Oddly enough, I remember that fish vividly, while 40+ trout I caught a few months ago have seemingly vanished from my memory.

Second, I think the surroundings had something to do with my case of angler’s amnesia.

I was more captivated by what I saw around me than I was by any particular fish. What I remember from that day is landing a trout right under the railroad trestle where a scene from “A River Runs Through It” was filmed, where Jessie drives her Model T through a tunnel with Norman hanging on for his life in the passenger seat. I also remember the sight of an old trapper’s cabin. And then there was the railroad bed over which the Ringling Brothers used to haul their circus equipment to their ranch for winter storage. The two railroad tunnels were stunning, too.

Third, I think the human imagination struggles to preserve sharp images of what moves us most, including our most poignant memories.

A few miles from the ranch where Dave and I had our banner day, the south fork of the little creek we fished curls by a knoll on which a sheepherder’s cabin is perched. Western writer extraordinaire, Ivan Doig, was in the cabin on his sixth birthday with his parents when his mother took her last breath.

Asthma claimed her life.

Doig writes about his struggle to remember the event in a haunting sentence near the beginning of his memoir, This House of Sky:

    Through the time since, I reach back along my father’s tellings and around the urgings which have me face about and forget, to feel into those oldest shadows for the first sudden edge of it all.

Every momentous event in life is a bit like that for me. I try reach around the photos or the accounts of family members in an attempt to relive memories which are trying to elude me.

Beautiful Memory Loss

So the next time you have an unforgettable day but forget the details, be assured that you’re not experiencing memory loss. You might simply have sensory overload. Or maybe your day was full scenery or experiences more remarkable than the fish you caught. Or maybe it’s the common human struggle to recall vivid images of life’s most momentous events.

Whatever the case, your inability to remember the fish you caught adds to the mystique of your experience and makes it unforgettable.

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Monster Brown Trout Save the Day

It is a late October afternoon, and rifle season has just begun. But the Montana weather is unseasonably warm. So my son, Luke, and I grab our fly rods instead of our rifles and head for the Beartrap Canyon in the Madison River. I’m looking forward to time on the river with Luke. I wish my oldest son, Ben, could be with us, but he is in college a thousand miles away.

Luke and I find spots about thirty yards apart on a favorite run in the Madison about a mile upriver from where it leaves the Beartrap. On his first cast, Luke apparently gets snagged on a rock. He turned twelve a couple months ago, and his fly fishing skills keep improving. But it looks like he’s going to need help from his dad. I see him pulling his rod this way and that way. But he cannot dislodge his fly from the rock.

Time is short today. I make my way upriver to help him.

“Here, why don’t we switch rods,” I offer. “Let me see if I can get your fly loose. I’ll probably have to snap it off, and I’ll re-tie everything. Just go down and fish the stretch where I was standing. I only made one cast.”

I take Luke’s rod and give it a tug or two. I can feel the rock which has snagged Luke’s fly move up the river about a foot. “Luke, you have a fish on the end of the line, and it’s a big one!”

Luke’s eyes light up, and he splashes his way back to me to grab his rod. “Go easy,” I tell him. Let’s see if you can pull him back towards shore out of this run.” For the next two minutes, Luke battles the monster at the other end of his line. Finally, we get it in shallow water, and the fish rolls over in the film.

“Oh wow,” I say to Luke. “It’s a big brown. Did you see that cream-colored body and those red spots? What a monster! Just go easy and I’ll get in position to net him.”

Whatever I do, I cannot lose this fish. So, I move into position, a few yards below Luke, and I get ready as he guides the fish my way. But I get too close too quickly. The big brown senses my presence and scoots around my leg, line and all. SNAP. The line breaks, and the trout is gone.

“Oh nooo! Luke, I’m so sorry.”

Luke turns his back on me. He is angry. “What were you doing?”

Now I feel my anger rise.

“Hey, I couldn’t help it,” I tell Luke. “I couldn’t wait forever to net him.”

Then I throw him a peace offering. “Here, take my rod and keep fishing and I’ll tie a new fly onto your line.” Luke’s back is still towards me as I hand him my rod. Now I see why. A couple tears slide down his left cheek. Oh great. I’ve ruined what should have been an incredible moment for him. My anger melts into a sick feeling.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “There are more fish where that came from.”

“Yeah, right,” Luke mumbles. Neither one of us is convinced there will be another fish, let alone one like that.

So I take seat on the bank and sigh. I root through a pocket in my vest and retrieve the box. As I open it to retrieve a new fly, I hear words that bring back the joy. “Dad, I’ve got one!”

“Alright, keep your line steady, but let him take it if he wants,” I say. Moments later, another large brown breaks the surface, whipping its head back and forth in an attempt to discard the fly caught in its lip. “Wow, Luke, that’s as big as the last one.” After a couple anxious minutes, I land this one securely in my net! I would have swam after it before letting it get away. What a fish! It doesn’t quite fit in the net because it turns out to be nineteen inches long!

Luke goes back to work. Two casts later, his strike indicator disappears and his rod almost doubles over.

“I don’t think I can land this one, Dad.”

“Yes, you can.”

After five minutes I don’t know who is more spent – Luke or the big brown. This one measures twenty-two inches. It is certainly the biggest fish Luke has ever caught on a fly rod. The next forty-five minutes yield four more fish for Luke. All are between nineteen and twenty inches. All but one are browns. The lone exception is a twenty-inch rainbow.

Luke’s arms are too tired to continue, so I put my net away and start fishing. In the next fifteen minutes, I land a couple more browns, both around twenty inches. Then, the catching stops as quickly as it started. The daylight begins to dim, so Luke and I head down the trail towards our truck and towards home. Our time on the water did not start well. But thanks to some big browns, the anger turned to joy.