Lake Report: Windows

Click on photos for full size image.

I still hold with the "another day, another day" philosophy. But I was happily reminded that sometimes that other day is better than the day before.

I took advantage of a window of opportunity and headed for the lake again, eager to keep working those weed beds. Conditions, at least, seemed to be identical to the day before and the day before that: windy and bright. Maybe a bit hotter.

I started with the little muddler. Fewer fish were rising than the days before, and I couldn't stir up anything in the weeds or along the bank.

So I tied on the Big Bomber. Found a Steelhead wannabe pretty quick. I admit he's got a ways to go, and that he's barely bigger than the fly, but he hit the thing with authority.
A window seemed to open in the fish activity, and suddenly I was getting follows and swirls. I saw a decent fish rise about ten feet out from the weed bed and bombed the Bomber out there. I hadn't even made a strip when this fish whacked it.

I love it when that happens.

He wasn't real big, but he gave me a nice long run and a couple of leaps, all the while heading straight for the weeds, and I couldn't stop him. He bored in and everything stopped. You want to see horsing? I horsed him, 5X or not. And suddenly I felt him shaking again, and up he came.
After releasing him I looked up and noticed all the weeds ripped loose in the fight. I saluted my noble--and vanquished--foe.
The window closed and it was slow for awhile. A guy trolled over and of course wanted to talk. His first time at the lake, so he had lots of questions, like, for instance, "Are there any big fish in here?" He had caught one 12 incher.

I stuck up for my home waters, and assured him there were nice fish in here, even though this season had been slow, and so on and so on and so on. He asked if I was using chironimids. I explained that I was on top with a big ass fly and it was catching some fish. Some guys seem to get that; some guys just get a funny look and change the subject. He paddled away.

Just then the window slid open again. It was still breezy, and the water was riffled, but fish started coming up. I was on the bank side of the weeds and the fish were on the other side, so I paddled back over.

I cast way out away from the weeds and started stripping. This is where the channel opens into the upper lake. It's from 6 to 8 feet in the channel and then drops off through here to depths 20 or 30 feet or deeper. Right at the channel the weeds are at the surface, but as the water deepens so do the weeds, so if you're lucky enough to hook a nice fish here you don't have to worry about weeds. As long as you keep his head up. At certain times--think windows--good fish cruise through here like eating machines.

Once again I was getting follows and swirls and short strikes. Then I got a strike that was right on the money. Very nice fish. Very nice runs. A majestic jump.
I wondered if First-Timer was getting any good fish.
Fish were still working. Now, many of these are little flippers, but there were some nice fish mixed in. I was casting and stripping when I saw a dorsal and a red side porpoise way out there. Up and down, like it never happened. But you know it did, and you want that fish. That fish.
I put the Bomber out there once, twice, three times. Nothing. So I decided to finally change flies. I tied on a big black muddler, a Black Bomber, if you will, and cannonballed it out where I'd last seen the good fish. Kaboom. Immediate take.
This was about seven minutes after that last good fish. Another wonderful time working him in through slashing runs, deep dives and high leaps. I was having fun. I was feeling good.
Was this that fish? Don't know for sure, but the story sure played out like it was. That's good enough for me.

The window closed, at least for good fish. The hatch was heavy again, and I saw caddis and even some callibaetis again, but the risers seemed to be small fish. And even the little fish were sparser than the evening before.

I had been determined to stay with the big flies, but after awhile I got sucked into the little fly quandary. I hadn't gotten any looks at the big flies, and besides, I think there's a chance that some of those little rings are made by big snouts. That hasn't been proven by me yet, but it seems worth trying to prove.

My record with tiny flies the last couple of evenings has not been good. As much as the big fish hit those big flies earlier, the little fish ignore my little flies as darkness falls. I tried a series of 18's and 20's on 6X. Nothing. Then I tied on a tiny emerger and finally got a take. It was a little fish, and a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Later as the bats fluttered overhead, I got a second take on a tiny mayfly pattern, also a small fish. But there were some big guys out there, I'm sure.

Just have to hope I'm out there when that window opens.

Lake Report: Bear

Click on photos for full size image.

A memorable afternoon and evening.

I took the canoe today, mainly because the most recent heat wave broke over the weekend and I was in the mood to stay dry for a change (leaky waders.) It gets cool on these evenings at the lake.

Also, sad to report, the old leak on the right side of the float tube is active again. I need to get at it with the repair kit before I can take it out again.

I got to the lake early in the afternoon and headed out to the weed bed. On a whim I tied on this big deer hair fly. I tied it for Grande Ronde Steelhead, known for taking a waking fly. But it has a black body, so I thought there might be a big trout here that would like it.

A Steelhead wannabe.

I could have cast right to the weeds, and it would have been a very different day. But there was the bank, near and inviting, so in a what the hell moment I cast over to it.
Bang. A fish hit it on impact. For a split second I thought it must be a little bank hugger, but then the head shaking began. It got into the weeds for a few heart stopping moments, but I horsed it out and netted this very fine Brown.
Nice start, for the day, but also, I'm hoping, for hopper time. I prospected the bank off and on the rest of the day but didn't find another fish like this one. But I found this one.

I turned my attention to the weed bed and found the fish very amenable to a big waking fly.

I caught a small Rainbow and released it in the water. I got many swirls and short strikes. And then I hooked and netted another pretty nice fish.
Then, inexplicably, the fish turned off. I tried various flies and combinations of flies, and enjoyed the process. It's a little like losing yourself in a good crossword puzzle. Challenging and relaxing at the same time.

The midges popped with a vengeance, and I noticed this, something I've seen many times. See if you can see it.

It's a midge still trailing a very long shuck. (I assume it's a shuck.) Why doesn't anyone tie midge flies with a three inch shuck? Rene Harrop gets credit for the "CDC Midge," which is the Griffith's Gnat with one little tuft of CDC tied on as a wing. Think I'll invent "Jim's Midge," a Griffith's Gnat with a long piece of white thread tied on the ass end.
Evening settled in and I put on my jacket and was glad to have it. The wind, which had been blowing all afternoon, backed off, and fish started rising. I had settled on a little tiny dry earlier, and had gotten some splashy rises to it, but now I was getting no takers.
I changed to a darker fly. Still no takers. I'm sure I would have figured out that something-letter word for "the right fly," but there was a distraction.

There are four guys camping at the lake now, gear fishermen trolling, trolling, trolling. Earlier I heard them talking about seeing a bear cub this morning near camp. They were out in their two boats this evening, and one guy called out to the other boat, "Deer in the water." At least that's what I thought he said.

I've seen deer in the water, so I kept casting. As the other boat got nearer the guy called out again, and this time I heard him right: "Bear in the water!"

It was about half grown, I'd say, but it was a fast swimmer. I learned the other day that this is bear season; this cub may be an orphan.
It's the first bear I've seen at the lake. The fact it was swimming is a bonus.

I took a rickety video of it. You'll see the bear swimming just like a big waking Steelhead fly, and you'll see a couple trout rising. And you'll see one of the boats following the bear with a guy taking a video of it.

So, if you want to see a good video of this bear just watch mine and check the menu of other "swimming bear" videos. I bet you'll find his.

Lake Report: Another Day, Another Day

Click on photos for full size image.

Another day, and I was back for more. Still greatly enjoyable, but different than the day before. Seemed that more little fish were active, and less bigger fish.

So I caught a little one, and a little bigger one.

One could wish that you could duplicate a good day just by going back to the same place and doing the same things. Like the saying goes, "Another day, another dollar." But if I've learned anything--or if there's anything I'm trying to learn--it's that, when it comes to fishing, it's "Another day, another day."

Lake Report: Nice. Real Nice.

Click on photos for full size image.

I pulled up to the south end and a gentleman from BC was there, so, in spite of a strong south wind, I drove on up and launched on the channel. I was glad I did.

I had a plan. I began with a medium sized Stimulator with a black ant dropper and fished the bank along the channel. I haven't fished an ant for awhile, so it seemed worth a try. And I'm still expecting the fish to get on hoppers any day now. In spite of the wind there were pockets of calm under the willows, but I got no takes.

I came out of the channel and began to fish both sides of this slot between the bank and a weed bed.

I was enjoying myself immensely. The wind was to my back, the line laid out nicely, and the flies drifted enticingly with the current. After awhile I decided to try another pattern I haven't used much here, so I tied on a scud and concentrated on the edge of the weeds.
I got a strong take on the scud. The fish hit it so hard that the Stimulator popped under with a splash and I thought that's what the fish had taken. I got a firm hookup, and at first the fish didn't seem to know quite what to do. Then he dove for the weeds--hard--and the 6x dropper snapped at the fly.

But it was a good fish.

I tied on another scud--this time on 5X--and worked my way down the weed bed again. I probably should have stayed with 6X. At any rate, I didn't get another take. The eagle smiled down on my puny efforts from his great height.

The wind was still blowing hard, so I dipped into my bag of tricks and tied a medium muddler on the 5X. It has a gold tinsel body, black marabou tail, peacock herl underwing, black marabou overwing, and natural deer hair head and collar. Pretty fly. I was remembering windy days when the fish would take it as the line straightened out and the fly began to drag in the waves.

I cast it way out quartering against the wind, and found I started getting bumps and swirls when I stripped it steadily in. On about the third cast I had it within ten feet of the float tube when a fish came up and engulfed it.

It was a good fish. I was framing the shot in my mind when it came off. I was on the lee edge of the weed bed and maybe it got into some weeds just enough to lever the hook out. I didn't feel any weeds. But I did feel good.

I decided to paddle back to the other side of the weeds, and towed the muddler behind me. I was just thinking about picking it up as it approached the weeds when a fish slammed it. Scared me. I rared back on the rod and the 5X tippet snapped. But I still felt good.

The wind sat down as the sun dipped behind the mountain, and fish began to rise. This wasn't a mindless feeding orgy of the small fry; this was good fish coming up to get their supper. It was a beautiful thing to see.

The midges were coming off heavily, and there were some little caddis in the mix, and even a few callibaetis. I elected to go with a CDC caddis. It's probably a 14, but I've had some luck with it. There were many single rises, and I wasn't getting anything to come up to my fly as it sat on the open water, or as I twitched it along. But there were a few cruising fish rising two, three, four times before going down.

I found one heading my way. It's one of the greatest joys of this sport: laying your fly in the path of a feeding fish and watching his rises get nearer and nearer, then that last rise just before your fly, then the suspense...and--bloop!--it takes your fly.

This fish took line off the reel as it headed straight for the weeds, but I managed to keep him from getting in too deep, and then was able to extricate him and get him into the net.
The moon was brightening in the darkening sky, and trout continued to rise.
I switched to a smaller fly and sat in the midst of the peace and beauty and cast to my heart's content.
I missed a few hits--enjoying every minute of it.
Then I saw another fish working toward me. My fly was waiting for him when he got there, and he took it. Nice.
Real nice.

Lake Report: Two Boys, Two Lakes, One Good Time

Click on photos for full size image.

No better way to spend a hot, August evening. We caught more fish than are pictured. Jeremiah caught two bass bigger than he's caught before, but both flopped in the water before I could get a photo. We're not talking lunkers, but 12 or 13 inches is a big step up from five.

I love to see him working that Roostertail, his favorite lure. It's how many of us got started.

Now if I could just get him to wade in the river with me. He's watched too much Discovery channel, though, and has this notion that Bull Sharks could--it's possible--swim up the Columbia, and right up the Okanogan, and right up to where he's wading....

But if I could get him to swing that Roostertail in the river, he'd realize what he's been missing. And he just might begin to understand his Dad a little bit better.

A Note on the YouTube Age

Everything you do is already posted on YouTube. This is the Great Truth of our age.

I played my own little video of the bronc riding at the Stampede, and discovered that it was grouped with fourteen other videos of the bronc riding at the Stampede. From this year.

They seem to have much nicer video cameras than I do, too.

Anyway, one was labeled something like "Bronc Rider Knocked Out At Omak Stampede." That was the night we were there, and the guy taking the video was sitting somewhere down to the left of us.

I posted two photos of that ride, the landing, and the being helped out of the arena, but if you want to see the whole thing, check it out.

I guess my service to you was to provide a couple of videos that link you to more and much better videos.

Glad to help.

Stampede Time

Click on photos for full size image.

It was Stampede time this last weekend. It's the Omak Stampede, the biggest rodeo in this area. Growing up in Nampa, Idaho, I went with my family to the Snake River Stampede every summer. This brings it all back. Here's a taste.

Calf Roping

Saddle Bronc Riding

Suicide Race Entrants

Steer Wrestling

Team Roping

Trick Riding

Barrel Racing

Bull Riding

Native American Encampment and Dance