Lake Report: Holding Pattern

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We're in the home stretch now; the season closes on Sunday.

I rolled over the ridge on a different road this afternoon, one that provides this overlook of the valley I call home.

The hunters are gone, and the campgrounds were deserted, except for one full of grazing cattle. I hoped I'd see a big buck strolling through a campground.
Things were blessedly quiet. As I neared the south end of my lake I was hoping the fishermen camped there were also gone. They were. One even left a nice stack of firewood. I helped myself, this being wood scrounging season.
So I and the trout and three Great Blue Herons had the lake to ourselves.
I was eager to try out Little Bomber 2. I got the colors right this time, but maybe left the head a little big. Didn't seem to matter; I wasn't able to get any surface strikes today, on any fly, even though the fish were up and feeding enthusiastically.

So I tied the soft hackle on as a dropper fly. That worked, as long as I was moving it. 

And as long as I had it somewhere near a fish. The rises were sporadic, and fish seemed to be moving around a lot.

But the two I caught were nice.

I still wanted one on top, so spent some time trying the CDC caddis, a black mayfly pattern, and a tiny BWO pattern. I thought each one was a pretty fair imitation of the midges--some fairly big--on the water. But the fish didn't think so, and the rises slowed down and then quit completely before dark.

I wasn't ready to head for home, so I trolled a black micro leech until after dark and caught two more.

So one more trip in the books. So far the cold weather is holding off, the truck is holding together, the float tube is holding up, and I'm holding fish. I hope that holding pattern holds for just a few more days.

October Rainbow

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A nice gift this afternoon...

Lake Report: Being There

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Time is slipping away. One more week left in the season. So the main thing is simply being there.

But that's always the main thing.

On the way out the door I stopped and tied up Bomber 2. I thought it was a faithful copy of the original, except smaller, a #8 hook instead of a #6. But when I took a look at the original I realized the deer hair was all wrong. Should be the gray-brown variety.

Still--pretty little thing. I tied it on.

It was a wonderful and windy late October day. A small fish went all OMG on the Little Bomber. That raised my confidence. I worked my way down this bank into the lower lake for awhile but didn't raise anything.

I struck out across the lake, quartering against the wind, and let the LB drift behind me. Halfway across it lost its innocence with this nice Rainbow.

I got to the other side and started back again.

Halfway across I had another strong take. This time I was over a stretch where the weeds were just under the surface, and down the fish went. He was hung up, but I could still feel him headshaking. I paddled back against the wind and tried to pull him straight up. I felt him--then I didn't, and pulled up a broken 4X tippet.
Maybe it was a better fish than I thought.
And that was the end of the Little Bomber, cut off in its youth, a promising future unfulfilled.
I tied on a Muddler and caught several small fish before I got back to the channel. But it just wasn't the same.
Time for a break. I put on the fleece and wished I had a big tent with a woodstove in it, like that guy.

Back out in the thinning light and the waning afternoon. There's a sense that all things are going into themselves, the fullness of summer thinning to the spareness of winter.

I passed through the channel to the upper lake. It was still windy, so I cast the Muddler out into the riffles where I've had good fish come up before. This was where the Bomber really shone. This time the Muddler brought up a good fish.

The wind was trying to quit.

Finally it did. I looked for the bloom of rises everywhere, but they were sparse. I didn't see any dorsals. I hope the fish don't go into themselves until the season is over. I thought about the dropper rig and decided against it. I tied on the CDC caddis on 6X and had at it.

It took patient waiting, but once in awhile a fish would come up nearby and you could entice a take. Or, out of nowhere, a fish would suddenly break that glassy surface and take the fly. I caught a handful of small fish, and two that went a ways toward respectable, before the rises shut down.

It was a good day, one of the last of the season, one that's gone now, like the Little Bomber, never to return. I could have missed it.

But I was there.

Lake Report: Lovely Evening

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It was a lovely evening. I fished the north end since I came in from the north straight from work. I had been thinking south end, but as soon as I pulled around the bend and saw the lake I knew I needed to check out that high end again.

I had the float tube. It was a good day for it, a balmy 65 degrees, but tomorrow is supposed to be ten degrees cooler. The float tube should hold up OK; it did fine this evening. Now we'll just have to see how I hold up in the cooler weather.

I started with the Bomber, poor thing. I caught this little fish on it and noticed that the tinsel has come loose now. I'm not going to retire it quite yet, not while it's still bringing in the fish.

I did give it a rest, though. The wind had been blowing when I arrived, but it quit and many fish started to rise out in open water. So I paddled out and got ready. I had been thinking about tactics and had decided to go with a Stimulator on point with an emerger on a dropper. (In my terminology, the point fly is the one at the end of the leader from which you tie the dropper fly. Makes sense to me.) I tied the Stimulator on 4X and the emerger on 6X.

That was fun fishing. I got hits on the emerger and on the Stimulator. Missed a few messing with the camera and generally not paying close enough attention.

There were big fish up again, but their presence was fleeting, and I couldn't get my rig in front of them before they dematerialized in that way they have. This nice middle-sized fish, though, whacked the Stimulator.

When things slowed down I changed the emerger to a soft hackle and picked up a couple more small fish on it. They liked it moving, so I'd wait for the rises to get close, then give it a slow pull.
The light kept dropping, a little breeze came up, the Stimulator got harder and harder to see, and still I stayed out there enjoying the evening--and ready if, by some chance, a big night cruiser were to decide to come up and kill the Stimulator. That's a nice combination: relaxed alertness.
An owl hooted off in the trees, two herons flew over, bats flitted over the riffles, whiffs of woodsmoke drifted over the water from the camps of deer hunters, and a fisherman bobbed quietly in his element.

It was over all too soon. Tomorrow I need to get there earlier. Lovely evenings are nice, but I'd like to have a lovely day.

Football Report: Season's Over

The football season is over for another year, and both boys once again did themselves proud in the final game. Jeremiah's team tied, and Isaiah's team lost, but there were no losers.
I'm proud of these guys.

Lake Report: Big Fish Time

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It was back to the lake in the wan light of October. The road was still busy with deer hunters, but I didn't hear any shots today. The deer, the ones left after the weekend offensive, have made themselves scarce.

I went back to the south end. I was the only guy on the lake for awhile, but three separate fishermen pulled into the south campground and set up camp while I was there.
I took the float tube again. It's much easier than the canoe to maneuver down to the water's edge. I still haven't repaired the slow leak in the right air bladder, and it appeared to lose more air tonight than it has for awhile. So it may be that the canoe will accompany me the rest of the way on this journey to season's end. That may be OK for another reason: it's a little warmer sitting high and dry in the canoe.

I trolled over to the far side with a big wooly bugger, and had a few hits from small fish, too small, apparently, to hook up. But I had a plan: to hit the bank with the Bomber to see if I could raise a big fish.

I worked methodically down to this rocky stretch. It drops off quickly here, and I thought it might give me my best chance. Sure enough, I saw a rise right up against the rocks.

I dropped the Bomber in tight, gave it two strips, and a streak of yellow came up and hammered it. A very nice Brown.

You'll notice I was able to net it. After the last trip, when I dropped my net into the lake, I dug through my fishing stuff and found this old net. I was glad to have it.

By then the breeze had dropped and fish were rising out in the center of the lake, so I moved out and tried the Bomber there. No go.

There were some very good fish working, lazily rising, their big dorsals waving in the air. It's big fish time, as they pack in nature's bounty in preparation for the long winter. It appeared that they were picking up emerging midges. But, instead of tying on a little emerger, I tried a series of surface flies, sure that I could entice one of those dorsals to come up and take.

It didn't happen--not this time. Sometimes it does, and when it works, it's genius. When it doesn't work, like tonight, it's pure hubris.

The big fish went down after awhile, leaving the surface to the little fish, and I caught a couple of them on the cinnamon ant.

It was good to see the big fish up, and next time I promise I'll tie on a little emerger. I'm sure you'd like to see one of those big Rainbows in the rosy glow of dusk.

Come to think of it, so would I.

Off To School

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Kim usually gets the kids off to school (I'm on bedtime duty) but she left early today for an all day training. So I got up with the sun to get them on their way.

They usually ride with Kim, but it was bus time this morning.

I don't know why Lidia was chasing Jeremiah. Could be any of a hundred reasons.

The bus nears, and the cat knows it. Isaiah waits with Lidia. Jeremiah had gone up the road to wait with his friends. I don't know why Isaiah and Jeremiah dressed alike.

Off they go, and the cat thinks, "What am I going to do here all day without them? With just him?"

He doesn't like me. Poor cat.

Lake Report: Third Day In a Week

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I got back to the lake for a third time, in keeping with my intention to make the most of these last days of the season. I took the float tube this time.

It was a Saturday, and it was the opening day of rifle season for deer, so the campgrounds were full of deer hunters.

There was constant traffic on the road--cars, trucks, four wheelers, and motorbikes. A pall of dust hung over the lake. Now and again I'd hear the pop of a rifle up on the ridge, and then the echo like thunder rolling up and down the valley.

It was calm, and fish were rising, but I managed to catch only small fish. I had tied up some small deer hair caddis since I had seen some on the water the last time I was there. But on this day the fish ignored my new flies. As often happens, I had succeeded in outsmarting myself rather than the fish.
But they took the CDC caddis, and a black leech trolled at dusk.

The fish quit rising before dark. Maybe it was the weight of the cold air settling over the lake that put them down. I stayed relatively warm--I had dressed for a cold evening--but my fingers were numb by the time I loaded up and headed for home.
Last year there was snow on the ridges at season's end. We'll see what's in store this year.