There are reasons why some fly patterns sell by the thousands of dozens every year. The Copper John, arguably the most popular nymph pattern on the planet, simply sinks better, faster, and is just flashy enough to grab a trout's attention. You can turn over a million rocks in rivers and never see anything that looks like a Copper John, but the fly is brilliant. The Parachute Adams is equally remarkable for its drab simplicity. Developed in northern Michigan nearly a century ago, the Adams proves to me over and over that trout care more about profile and presentation than they do about exact colors and detailed body accents.
Thing of it is, I have also come to believe that familiarity breeds contempt, at least in the context of trout and the dry flies they see every day.
Let me start by saying that I was quite impressed with the depth and emotion of the comments by all who replied to my rather loaded question of "What's your favorite fishing sideshow?" As I read them, it was clear to me that there is no wrong answer to the question. Any time you are fortunate enough to fish, it's the total experience—the landscape, the other animals, and especially the people you are fishing with that matter most. It is very satisfying to write for an audience that clearly understands and appreciates this. And it is nice to read your eloquent words as well.
I'm not the first writer to offer a lesson on patience when setting the hook while fishing dry flies, but I'm pretty sure I'll be the first to do it like this...
I went diving again today off Kaua'i, where I encountered the state fish of Hawaii.
Last weekend I had the pleasure of getting out and sticking my first largemouth of the season. It was one of our first really warm days here and the fish were going bonkers even though water temps we're still in the 40s. I wasn't one to argue.
Cicadas might be annoyingly loud, but I know they bring huge trout to the surface on rivers like the Green in Utah and the Colorado at Lees Ferry in shadow of the Grand Canyon in Arizona. Bass also love them and I'm sure they suck them down all over the east coast. And now there's a way to see realtime info on when cicadas will start flying around—using data provided by you.
WNYC, a public radio station in New York, is promoting a crowdsourcing project call the Cicada Tracker, where people can create a temperature sensor and report their findings to the station when things start to warm up. WNYC will then map this data on the cicada hatch in the Northeast and share it online.
Aloha from the Garden Island of Kaua'i in the Hawaiian Islands. I'm on a much-anticipated family vacation, where my wife, Sarah, and son, Paul, and I are enjoying some spectacular scuba diving (along with my brother, Drew, who took this photograph of a sea turtle we encountered Saturday). When I'm not fishing, diving is my favorite pastime. I enjoy watching fish when I'm not actually casting at them, sometimes for reasons explained in one of last week's Fly Talk posts. I'll admit, however, that I much prefer the clear, warm tropical waters over the icy swirling currents of trout rivers.
Last night, I took my rod to cast off a point of lava rocks. I was casting a Clouser minnow at nothing in particular, and truth be told, I didn't catch anything. But I did see another giant green turtle swim up near the shoreline, poke its head above the surface to check me out for several minutes, then vanish under the foam.
Since Deeter stole my thunder yesterday with the announcement of good friend and colleague Geoff Mueller's book "What a Trout Sees: A Fly-Fishing Guide to Life Underwater," I thought I'd give you all a little recap of the last year and a half of taking photos for it.
The "Going Deep" features I wrote for Field & Stream are some of my favorite stories I've ever written. I started with trout and that eventually led to bass and other species like pike and walleye. The premise was simple: To truly understand fish, you have to "be the fish." So I put on scuba gear, went below the surface, and watched what fish did as anglers were casting at them. The reason I like these stories so much is because I learned tons as I was producing them. We'd boil the information down into magazine feature packages, but there was always enough information to make a book...
Which is what my friend Geoff Mueller did in "What a Trout Sees: A Fly-Fishing Guide to Life Underwater." And I'd be jealous of Mueller for producing a book I wish I had done, but he did so in a way that I'm not sure I could have pulled off.
I recently asked for your help saving my beloved Colorado River, now I need to tell you about a situation in the area known as the Thompson Divide just west of Aspen, CO. The home to some pristine Colorado River Cutthroat Trout watersheds, as well as one of the most productive elk habitats in the state, is under threat from oil and gas interests that want to drill in the area. As you can see on the map above, the industry is creeping closer and closer.
Our own governor says this is a bad idea, but really has no authority to stop it as the BLM (a federal agency) issues the permits to drill there.