Trout Lake Report: When the Time Is Right

The dog days are here. Temps have been peaking near the 100 degree mark. You go to the lake to cool off.

The south end campground is deserted now. Time to see what's going on down here.

You know with each trip in this heat that the odds of getting skunked are high and probably getting higher. Especially if you insist on fishing mostly muddlers on top. You tie on a muddler.

You work the shoreline for awhile, but you see rises--individual and sporadic--out in open water. So you turn the tube away from the shoreline and cast out into the vast spaces. It has occurred to you that fishing to these widely scattered and unpredictable rises is the trout version of whack-a-mole.

Except in this case the trout do the whacking. The muddler is floating on the calm surface when a fish comes up ten feet behind it. It comes up again with a lunging take of something. It's a hot fish, and it's coming your way. You sit tight...and it whacks the muddler.

Nice. The time was right. And all is still right with the world.

After that the evening is infused with possibility, and every cast filled with anticipation.

You don't catch another fish. But you know the next fish is out there, and you'll find it--when the time is right.

Trout Lake Trifecta: Brown, Rainbow, Little Brown

Brown Trout (Salmo trutta)

Rainbow Trout (Onchorynchus mykiss)

Little Brown Bat (Myotis lucifugus)

Those muddlers will catch anything.

Trout Lake Report: A Fish in the Hand

You like to think that fishing is your life, but sometimes your life makes it hard to find time to fish. This time you have to grab a few hours in the middle of the day. You launch at the channel.

You have learned that midday is a good time to find individual fish working damsels, so you tie on a damselator.

Sure enough, just a little way along the channel you find a fish splashing around. It takes a couple of casts to get the fly in the right place, but when it is, the fish nails it. Another Tiger, a good 19 inches. You're very pleased.

You come out of the channel into the north end and start down the Drake Bank. You want to see if there are any signs of an early Drake hatch.

Along the way you find a couple of other fish working. You get strikes out of them, and have them on for a second or two, but both pull off the hook.

Then you get a good hookup. It acts just like a Brown, but it's a fine Rainbow.

The wind has kicked up. It blows you right down the shoreline.

And it blows the damselator right into another chunky Rainbow's mouth.

Down at Drake Bay there are no signs of Drakes yet. It's early in the day for any to be hatching, but there are no shucks in the water or other evidence that they're here. The Bay has changed, though. The tree that was its centerpiece is down. You don't think the Drakes will mind.

Time to work back up the shoreline to the truck. You tie on the Muddler of the Day. Surprise, it's blue.

You have high hopes for it, but after a hundred yards or so the tippet wraps around the fly. You blame the wind. When you try to extricate the tippet it skews the deerhair out at an impossible angle. You can't get it loose, so you decide to clip the fly for possible future restoration. You tie on a black-bodied muddler.

You've been kicking against the wind to get back, but now the wind backs off. You appreciate the easier passage,

Before you know it, though, you're back at the take out without another fish. But, you did catch three really nice ones. You think about that Tiger, and you remember again: A fish in the hand is worth two in the lake.

Trout Lake Report: A Sweet Goodbye Song

You have all afternoon and evening. The south end campground is empty so you launch there for the first time this season.

You tie on the latest muddler.

You start the circuit, working the shorelines in a big circle. Fish are in there: you get a few drive bys. Then a hookup that comes undone.

Then, halfway around, a solid take. The fish this time of year fight bigger than they are. This one makes you pay attention.

That's a good beginning. You're ready for anything now.

On down the shoreline you see a small rise ten feet off the bank. You flip the muddler over there and give it a slow strip and a fish sips it in. Sips it in.

You raise the rod expecting a small fish. You're wrong. It's a heavy fish, big enough to sip in a #10 muddler, and it goes deep and then runs. You manage to turn it...and the hook comes out.

You're never ready for that. Had to be the fish of the day. And maybe, as your imagination runs wild, the fish of the season. You'll never know.

You continue on around. More drive bys.

Then another solid take. It's a handsome speckled Brown. It's not as big as the lost fish, but you're happy with it. You think it's the best fish of the season so far.

You come back around to where you began, and pull over for a pee break. You leave the muddler floating out in open water.

You become aware that the line is moving. A fish has taken the fly. You strip it in. A very nice Rainbow. You look for the muddler and discover that the fish has swallowed it whole.

You can see the end of it deep down in its gullet. So you clip the line and leave it in there. The fish swims slowly away, but it doesn't look right. You hope it will survive.

Next time you'll reel the line in like you usually do.

On down the shoreline, second time around. You're fishing a stimulator as a change of pace.

The evening is calm and quiet. The lake is beautiful in the ebbing light. You watch the swallows and listen to the Yellow warblers in the willows and the Baltimore orioles in the cottonwoods.

For these young Whitetail bucks, you are what's disturbing the evening calm.

The shorelines are quiet on this circuit. Not even a drive by.

You come back to the access. A few fish are rising out in open water. So you kick out and cast some little dries under the crescent moon. No takes, but you're too relaxed to be concerned about it.

As you kick in, a lone coyote sings a sweet goodbye song.