Trout Lake Report: The State of the Drakes

It's another cool day. That doesn't stop the wildflowers. Bright yellow ones have added their splash of color to the mix. they're called Blanket Flowers, but your name for them is Brown Trout Bellies.

Your plan is to go back down the Drake Bank to see how the hatch is doing. The campground has thinned out so you launch at an open access on the north end of the channel. That will shorten up your travel distance a bit.

Along with the cool temperatures come wind and roaming showers. You're ready for anything.

The sun breaks out now and then. What a tease.

You snag your BD Muddler in the fallen pine, a victim of last season's fire, and a new landmark along the shoreline.

You work your way along, past Reedy Bay, down to the end. You see some Drakes, but nothing is moving.

A little hot coffee and a snack help keep the chill at bay.

You go on around the bend and fish along the west side. At the swallow holes you catch the first fish.

Down here there are Drakes in the air and some fish rising. As raindrops begin to fall you cast the muddler into the shoreline, strip it out--and get a hard pull. You set the hook on a very nice Brown. You play it carefully--it wants to run and go deep into the weeds. You're pretty sure you've got it ready to net. You bring it in, you're reaching out with the net, and the fish looks you in the eye and goes ballistic. Sometimes a fish does that, and if you hold firm for a second or two it will quit, and you can scoop it up. This fish would not quit. And so the inevitable happened: he broke off and took the fly with him.

You tie on a Drake dry and go on down the west shoreline past the landslide.

It's raining harder now.

Another fisherman has rowed down and joined you on the west shoreline. You kick out and around him on your way back to the Drake Bank.

A nice Rainbow takes the fly as it drifts behind you.

You go around the bend and start working back up toward Reedy Bay. Rain squalls come and go, and the wind gets colder.

The Nighthawks are back, again amazing you with their aerial displays.

The fishing is slow, and you see only a few Drakes. You get some hits, but precious few hookups.

Only one more fish comes to the net. Still, the conditions are far from ideal. This was not the best evening for making an assessment of the hatch.

More data will be required in the quest to determine the state of the Drakes.

That's OK with you.

Trout Lake Report: A Great Way to Begin

Time to see whether Drakes are hatching on other shorelines. You launch today at the far north end. You'll make the circuit around past the inlet, across to this side again and back full circle to where you're standing.

The first thing you notice is that some of the mountain across the way has come down. You wish you could have been here to see it--and hear it. You once witnessed a slide here--half the size of this one--and the roar made a fine echo up and down the valley, and the dust plume hung in the air for a long time.

You're fishing the BD Muddler. Just thirty yards along the shoreline you drop it into a likely looking spot.

There's a fine Brown in there. It hammers the fly. Wow. Under the influence of the Drake spell you might be tempted to think that was a Drake Take. But then again, Browns will hammer flies all year round. May it always be so.

That's always a great way to begin. What a beautiful day it has turned out to be. You kick back and kick on around the shoreline, fishing as you go.

You get to the inlet and fish it from the outside in. You get some hits from little fish, and you get a brief hookup on what looks like it could be a small Brown.

You turn to kick farther into the inlet and flip the fly out in open water. A Rainbow likes the looks of it as it drifts along.

You don't find anything else inside the inlet. Later in the summer, if past years are any indication, there will be Browns in there hanging out in the cold inflow. Now you leave it to a family of geese and move on down the shoreline.

You cast into the driftwood and get a strong take. This is a place you have encountered big fish before. You've pulled a few out of here successfully, but not this time. The fish goes down and breaks off. After that, if you had a handkerchief, and you did this, you would take it out and mop your brow while shaking your head ruefully.

You find another BD Muddler on the fly patch and tie it on. Then on down the shoreline.

You get a better view of the landslide. Nothing is forever, even mountains.

You start the kick across to the other side. That side is where you have found a good Drake hatch in years past, and fish mopping them up.

The Loon is back. It stays far away. You imagine it enjoys its solitude.

On the way over, the wind picks up from the north. Soon it's blowing hard, and it's cold. You debated when you got here whether you would need a jacket. You're glad you have it on.

You pick your way along the shoreline probing all the good spots. You find little fish willing to flip at the fly, but only two are serious about eating it.

Meanwhile, you see only one Drake blowing in the wind.

By the time you get near the takeout the wind has died down. You wait to see if more Drakes will show, and fish will begin to rise. You're willing to stay a little longer if they do. The Loon calls briefly and then is silent.

No Drakes. No rises. On one of your last casts you catch your last fish of the day, a Rainbow glowing with all the colors of the sunset.

That's a good way to end the day.