Trout Lake Report: Still to Come?

So where were we?

Oh yeah, I went on another trip. This was a trip to Indiana for a family wedding. It was wonderful.

We got back home and the first thing I wanted to do was see how the Drake hatch was doing at the lake. I made it there once--and then things stacked up and I haven't been back since. I hope I haven't missed the whole dang hatch.

I plan to make up for this week next week. You know, when things get back to normal.

Meanwhile, here's the report of my trip this past week.

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The sky is doing funky things with the clouds and light as you wind your way to the lake.

It's good to see the lake again after an absence of a week. You launch at the channel.

You head down the shore toward the Drake Bank. It's quiet, but you know you'll find some fish along the way plucking damsels. You tie on a damselator.

You come up on some floating logs and begin laying the fly in as close as you can. On one cast the fly bounces off the top of the log into the water. Perfect.

There's a hit on the fly. You raise up and miss. The fish swirls again as you're getting ready for another cast. You lay the fly in on the ripples of that last swirl and the fish smacks it. A beautiful Brown.

Good to be back.

You move on down the shoreline. Under this tree you see a subtle rise.

You drop the fly in and the fish sucks it under. Another beautiful Brown.

The wind has picked up.

You take your time working the shoreline.

At this little reedy bay you see the first Drake, and then another and another. They're beginning to come off steadily. You tie on a Drake dry, and on the first cast into the reeds a fish does a "Drake take," hitting the fly with a loud splash. You know it's a little fish--they get very excited by these big bugs.

You work down the reeds. You're letting the fly drag away from shore as you kick along when a fish takes it. A nice Rainbow almost swallows the fly whole.

You get down to the far end of the Drake Bank, the Mother Lode of Drakes in years past. Not so many today. There are a few in the air, however, and a few fish are rising noisily now and then.

You see some sipping rises up against the shore. You put the fly in there and wait a moment and the next sipping rise sips in your fly. A third beautiful Brown.

You head back toward the truck. The wind has laid down at the right time, making the kick back easier.

You're still fishing along the way, dropping the Drake dry in close to the bank. You start catching the little fish that leap on the fly as soon as it lands.

You're hoping for another big fish, though. This little bay has produced big trout in Drake hatches of the past. Today it holds only youngsters.

The Drakes are definitely here, but they aren't hatching in numbers. Either you missed the peak of the hatch, or it's still to come.

You can only hope it's still to come.

Trout Lake Report: You're Cool

The heat wave seems to be peaking.

You could stay cool by following the example of your grandson.

Or you could slip off to the lake and sit in the water in the tube for awhile.

You're at the far south end for the first time this season. It's the first time the campground here has been deserted. This is a lovely part of the lake with a personality of its own. It's a pleasure to explore its waters again.

Things are awfully slow, though. You don't find any sign of fish until you get around to the little channel back into the pond. You see two fish working the damselflies--or maybe it's the same fish.

You've been casting a damsel dry, so you try to get it into their window. It takes awhile, but you finally get a take after dead-drifting the fly in the breeze. You take a quick photo and get the fish back in out of the heat.

If it was slow before, it gets slower. But you're cool with that. So you kick back and kick around, still fishing, but mostly enjoying the evening as it goes through its changes.

And, on what will likely be the hottest day of the year, you're not only cool with that--you're cool.

Trout Lake Report: That Felt Good

The heat wave has settled in. It's over 100 degrees when you head for the lake.

You're back at the channel. You fling a damsel dry for awhile, but the fish are keeping to themselves.

Still, you find it relaxing to look for them here and there, and you're enjoying the beauty of the summer lake, and the transformation of the light from afternoon to evening.

When the west shoreline is in shadow you switch to a pretty stimulator. Sometimes you're in the mood for a stimulator.

You start down the willow line exploring for fish. Things stay slow. The only "rise" you see is caused by a beaver who blundered too close and panic-slapped the surface.

As usual, though, you're enjoying the activity of fishing. The beauty around you keeps changing.

You feel things crawling on your neck: damsel nymphs. You think about fishing a damsel nymph fly, but you don't have any with you. And you really don't want to, anyway. You like what you're doing.

You kick across to the eastern shoreline.

A damselfly lands on your hand. You wonder how the midge got there at the same time, but when the midge moves and the damselfly grabs it, you decide that the damselfly brought it along. It appears to be eating the hapless midge, but you brush it off before it finishes.

You're still enjoying the fishing, but you would be happy to have a little catching, too.

You finally see a fish working the willows with jumps and splashes. You get the fly inside some overhanging willows, and the fish takes it like a breaching whale. It's jacked up, and doesn't give in without a fight.

That felt good.

You hang out in the channel while dusk falls. Bats are thick, nighthawks are calling, and ducks whoosh overhead.

A fish is jumping in the willows by the take out, and you see damselflies still hovering over the surface. So you tie on a damsel dry by the last of the light and cast blind into the shoreline for awhile.

No luck. You reel in and hook the fly in the keeper on the rod. Now you'll have a damsel ready to go the next time you come back.