Kirk Deeter

Rumble in the Jungle: Catching Huge Arapaimas on the Fly in Guyana

Online Editors — Wed, 23 May 2012 08:48:01 -0400

Field & Stream editor-at-large and FlyTalk blogger Kirk Deeter recently took part in an expedition sponsored by Costa del Mar sunglasses to fish in Guyana, where he became one of the first fly fishermen ever to land an elusive wild arapaima—the world’s largest scaled freshwater fish species.

Click here to learn more about arapaima fishing opportunities in Guyana and the film "Jungle Fish."

Four Deadly International Nymph Rigs and Techniques

Online Editors — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 10:32:27 -0400

A few years before the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, three Eastern-bloc countries took part in a friendly flyfishing competition on Poland’s Dunajec River that would eventually lead to a worldwide angling revolution. The host Polish team dominated the contest over Czechoslovakia and East Germany, catching more and bigger fish by employing a short-line, heavy-fly system for presenting nymph patterns. In the following years, the Czechs further refined that system to the point that it’s now called Czech nymphing. By any name, it is deadly for catching large trout in numbers.

French and Spanish anglers have since added their own slants on nymphing. And, of course, many traditional wet-fly techniques were developed in the United Kingdom and Ireland decades, if not centuries, ago. The point being, by looking “across the pond,” American anglers can tap into a world of strategies that work great in their own rivers and lakes.

How to Tie the Clouser Minnow in 4 Easy Steps

Online Editors — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 10:12:57 -0500

Gear Test: 4 Two-Way Radios Under $50

Online Editors — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 16:27:02 -0500

Why Bird Hunting and Fly Tying Go Hand in Hand

Sarah Smith — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 10:08:41 -0500

by Kirk Deeter

Is there anything better in the whole fly fishing world than watching, in real time, as a big old brown trout rises to eat your dry fly, especially when you know that dry fly is one you spun up yourself?

There's definitely something to be said for tying your own bugs. Sure, most fish have brains not much larger than a dry-roasted almond, and your gray matter should trump theirs.

But when you really think about it, the real challenge isn't a brain-on-brain competition. In fly fishing, it's about using fairly primitive tools to trick tens of thousands of years of instinct. And when you take that challenge from the fly tying vise to the river, and succeed, you've done something extra special.

The only way to make that even more meaningful, in my mind, is to harvest the raw materials you use to tie flies in the first place. And that's part of the reason why I'm out whackin' ducks and geese these days, every chance I get.

Years ago, Grandfather showed me his "stash" of fly materials--shotgun shell boxes loaded with feathers. Now, mallard breast feathers, wood duck feathers (my favorite), cul-de-canard, goose down, and goose quills each fill a box where the shells used to be, and sit right on my bench. I figure, if you can trade a box of ammo for a box of feathers, that's a fair deal, and a good indicator that you can shoot fairly straight. There's also a vase filled with pheasant tail feathers on my fly bench. My wife thinks that's a decoration, but it gets more and more sparse as I tie nymph flies.

I think bird hunting and fly fishing go hand-in-hand for those reasons. I suppose you can be a good fly tier without shooting birds yourself, but I'm not sure how. I guess I have been known to chase after my dogs and cat when materials get sparse, and my son has a new pet rabbit. I haven't dared to go there yet. But I don't think that's the same as shooting your own birds, and getting your own tying feathers.

The really good news is that our man Tim Romano has a new Super Black Eagle II, and the other day in the goose pit, he proved himself to be a true shot. Of course, at this point, it's all about wild fowl on the grill for him. I don't think he noticed the handfuls of feathers missing from his birds when he got around to cleaning them.

I'll make it up to him in the fishing season.

Maybe.

Why Bass Fishers and High Stickers Should Love Czech Nymphing

Dave_Maccar — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 11:29:15 -0500

by Kirk Deeter

I've been hanging out with Steve Parrott of the Blue Quill Angler in Evergreen, Colorado, lately, and I have to tell you, I think he's made me a convert to Czech nymphing.

Steve has a relatively new DVD on the subject, which I eagerly endorse as a potential stocking stuffer, because he takes a topic that many of us find, well, literally "foreign," and brings it right home in a way that's easy to understand.

In fact, the more I Czech nymph, the less I find my mind daydreaming about Eastern European riverscapes I've never seen myself, and the more I think about the bass lakes in Alabama. Stick with me here: On a Czech nymph rig, you have a very heavy fly on the "point" or end of your fine line (tippet). A couple feet above that, you suspend a short tag line, with another "bait," in this case, a smaller, lighter fly. The heavy fly sinks down, the tag flutters down through the water...

"Hmmm, I started thinking to myself, "that's an awful lot like a drop shot rig." Moreover, as you Czech nymph, you're casting into a target zone and staying in tight contact with those flies as they drift downstream, feeling for the slightest bump or resistance as the point fly ticks along the bottom. "Hmmm," I thought more, "that's an awful lot like tube jigging for bass."

Which only goes to show that fishing is fishing, and no matter the moniker or point of origin, certain fundamental principles can and should be applied to many types of fishing, from the lake to the river, from bass to trout, saltwater and so forth.

The real beauty of Czech nymphing is that it puts the "feel" back in the nymph fishing game. The great attribute of fly fishing--and its Achilles heel--is that it is a visually-driven sport. Everyone likes dry fly fishing (and fishing poppers for bass or bluefish, for example), because they like to see the eat. But when you go below the surface with a nymph rig, the visual game of watching a bobber float down a run, over and over, doesn't quite flip my switch. I'm more than willing to trade visual nymphing for "feel" nymphing.

Of course, to each his (or her) own. But don't dismiss Czech nymphing as some Euro fad, because when you try it, you'll find it much more in your comfort zone than you might think. And it's deadly effective. Now, if we jump two oceans at once, mixing a Czech nymph rig with a Japanese Tenkara rod, I bet that gets really interesting. We'll see.

All Steelheading is Wonderful. But Michigan is Better than Ohio.

Online Editors — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 11:36:53 -0500

by Kirk Deeter

Everyone has a "home river" where they started fly fishing. And everyone has a "dream river" they yearn to experience. The more I travel, fish and write, the more I realize that my home river and my dream river are one and the same--the Pere Marquette system in western Michigan.

I just spent a few days fishing the P.M. with guide Jeff Hubbard, owner of Outfitters North, who is hands-down one of the most dialed fly guides I have ever fished with. He showed me new wrinkles and twists for water I've been fishing for 25 years.

We were joined by Robby King of LDR Media, with whom I traveled to Alaska last year for "The Kodiak Project." Even in contrast to the Amazing steelhead on the Karluk, Robby and I found the P.M. steelhead experience, while admittedly a bit chilly, to be a red-hot thrill.

One of the misnomers of Michigan steelhead fishing is that it's all about "chuck and duck" nymphing, running egg flies, and so forth. We spent the whole time casting Skagit heads and swinging Jeff's home-spun leech flies in a classic style. We used 11-foot 9-inch, 8-weight switch rods (Michigan Rivers are ideal for the switch rod).

Okay, so you Pacific northwest anglers can criticize Michigan fish as being "not real steelhead" because they aren't anadromous, meaning they don't run to and from saltwater. That's true. But I'll say this: All the Pere Marquette fish have an adipose fin, meaning they are wild and not stocked. There's also something to be said for catching a few (to several) steelhead a day, which is normal for Michigan.

In other words, the "my steelhead are better than your steelhead" stuff is a bunch of hooey. It's all good. It's just particularly good in Michigan. Apparently, the steelheading can even be good in Ohio, according to Joe Cermele. And that's about the nicest thing a Michigan man will say about Ohio this week.

"Guess the Size" Winner Announced

Sarah Smith — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 10:53:40 -0500

by Kirk Deeter

You were all pretty much in the ballpark. You didn't fall for the photo trickery, yet you paid proper respect to the redifish in Louisiana. This fish, by the way, was about average size for those we caught last week.

And it weighed 11 pounds, 11 ounces. Unfortunately I did not actually catch the fish on 11-11-11; I caught it two days earlier. It was an amazing trip, as you could tell from Tim's slide show.

Bushwackers is our contest winner for hitting the mark exactly. Hit me via E-mail at kirk@anglingtrade.com, and we'll get you your copy of The Little Red Book of Fly Fishing.

Day Two: Exploring Colorado's White Water Drainage

Online Editors — Fri, 11 Nov 2011 10:09:57 -0500

by Kirk Deeter

We drove up the lone dirt road that shoots like a cherry stem into the heart of the many thousands of roadless acres in the Flat Tops Wilderness area. At the center of this region is Trappers Lake, one of the largest natural mountain lakes in the state (at five miles around, it is indeed small by natural lake standards in many states, but large in the mountain pothole context of high alpine waters). Trappers Lake is home to a resident population of Colorado River cutthroat trout, as are the myriad brooks and streams in this section of the high country.

The key issue in maintaining the pristine appeal in this section of one of the country’s Best Wild Places is maintaining a roadless policy, according to Aaron Kindle, Trout Unlimited’s field coordinator for Colorado. Off-highway vehicle use on designated trails and roads is something that Trout Unlimited actually supports and encourages. However, unlimited OHV use can threaten fragile spawning creeks that the rare populations of native cutthroat trout depend upon for spawning. Roadless areas also provide refuge and calving habitat for the massive elk populations that live in the region.

Traveling to Trappers Lake, one cannot help but notice the massive scars of burned trees all around. In 2003, the Big Fish Fire consumed over 23,000 acres of forest, and even claimed the historic Trappers Lake Lodge (which has since been rebuilt). I asked Kindle, pointedly, what damage OHVs could do in a roadless area that wasn’t already caused by the likes of a devastating wildfire.

“Ecosystems have evolved for fires, and in fact lodgepole pines need fires to germinate,” Kindle said. To further his claim, he pointed to the crimson patches of fireweed growing along the banks of Trappers Lake, as well as the green layers of undergrowth—“elk chow,” in other words—lining the hillsides and folds in the glacial moraine falling away from the lake.

We caught a number of native cutthroat trout by wading gingerly off the shoreline, watching for subtle rings on the early morning (near-windless) water surface and then throwing small caddis dry flies at the targets. Some of the fish were 20 inches long. But the most special fishing experience of the day was a hike up the South Fork of the White—where, as the sun started to set, I spotted a riser beneath a rocky outcropping and I dropped a small mayfly pattern in front of it. The fish made one false rise and then swirled back to inhale the fly.

It was a 19-inch Colorado River Cutthroat.

Caught on a dry fly.

In public water.

I decided that was without a doubt, my best fish of any species that I had caught anywhere this summer. This was partly because of how big it was; partly because it was a native cutthroat, but mostly because of where it lived. And it occurred to me that catching wild, native trout in a pristine wilderness stream—one we all own—is an experience we should endeavor to safeguard for future anglers, no matter what.

Day One: Exploring Colorado’s White River Drainage

Sarah Smith — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 13:17:20 -0500

by Kirk Deeter

On day one of our Best Wild Places adventure in the White River drainage of Colorado, Aaron Kindle, Chris Herrman and I went trout fishing on the upper-middle section of the main stem of the White River. This middle section meanders through a valley of expansive ranches. Indeed, private landowners control much of this water, and access is restricted. However, the Colorado Division of Wildlife has secured a number of quality easements, and there are state wildlife areas that afford access to quality trout water as well.

We pulled off by a bridge, slipped on our wades and hiked down to the river where we immediately noticed a number of small trout sipping dry flies in the shade of the bridge. The White runs clear and clean throughout the late summer and fall, and prolific hatches of mayflies, as well as hordes of grasshoppers are found in the tall brush along the bank.

I cast a small Parachute Adams in the riffle and connected with a 14-inch rainbow trout on the third cast. I released the fish back into the water and smiled at Hermann. That’s when I first heard the chop-chop-chop of a helicopter banking and turning over the hills. It buzzed directly over our heads and glided down for a landing at a nearby ranch.

Apparently one of the valley’s newest (and wealthiest) residents had popped in for a little fishing getaway. I asked Herrman about the influx of money in the region, and the way that changes the fishery, for better or worse.

Herrman--who handles TU’s outreach efforts to private landowners in the region, securing conservation easements and so forth--admitted that it is a good news-bad news situation. “On the one hand,” he said, “having river miles in the hands of people who care about the fishing, even for their own private use, is a positive thing for the system. We know that fish migrate throughout the river, and good habitat ultimately enhances the overall fishery, even in areas where most people will never wade.”

“On the other hand,” he continued, “building giant homes right along the river bank can destroy important riparian habitat. So we have to be diligent in working cohesively among all private and public interests to ensure things are done responsibly, with the big picture in mind.”

Herrman added that the same theory applies to the elk herds in the region that rely on the river valley as a winter range. Keeping open spaces connected (“connective corridors”) in a way that extends from the high country (summer range) through the valley floor (winter range) is vital to the overall health and populations of elk in the region, and private landowners—especially those with a vested conservation/outdoor interest—are vital to maintaining that system.

“It’s about balancing high impact and low impact activities with the issue of access and no access,” concluded Herrman.