Trout Lake Report: Decidedly Octoberish

Just a few more real time adventures at the lake. Today was beautiful but chilly, especially, as is always the way, after the sun dipped behind the mountain. It was along this stretch just after I launched that I saw something I haven't seen since my first trip to this lake oh so many years ago.

There were a few fish tailing, working the weed beds, out and back, heads down and tails waggling in the sunlight. One of those tails was big, too. I had tied a Muddler on, expecting business as usual, and dropped it on their heads and stripped it over them several times, but I don't think they even noticed it. By the time I had tied a nymph on they were gone.

So I went back to a Muddler and worked my way leisurely along the weed beds picking up a fish or two here and there. The ones that were looking up.

Then the smoke began. Something bigger than a campfire was burning near the north end of the lake, and the northerly breeze was drifting the smoke over the south end. I wondered about my truck, and had a flash of me having to spend a frigid night in the lake in the float tube while a forest fire raged down the valley. But it wasn't too long before the smoke subsided.

It gave things a decidedly Octoberish look while it lasted. Reminded me of leaf burning when I was a kid.

The breeze drifted away with the smoke and a few fish began rising lazily to midges and the odd little Caddis fly.

I tied on an emerger and paddled around and caught a couple more fish. The water is definitely colder, and there is nothing sluggish about these fish now, even the little ones. They fight hard and never quit fighting, and they're out of my hand with a splash as soon as I get them back in the water.

As the shadows climbed the ridge the rises became fewer and farther between, so I tied on a Stimulator and drifted it behind me.

Nothing doing there, so I tried it with a black Muddler. Still nothing doing. By then my feet were about the same temperature as the trout, and I was losing the feeling in my thumbs. So I paddled in.

Later, when I took the tube out of the truck to put it in the shed, it wasn't wet, as it usually is; it was covered with a thin layer of ice, and the net was frozen to the seat.

Decidedly Octoberish.

Trout Lake Report: Who Knows What Tomorrow Will Bring?

I took some time to check out the lake Wednesday evening. This is my lake of preference, my true home waters, and it's a joy to be a part of its slow and profound changes over the course of a season.

Hopper time should be near, so I threw a hopper for awhile just to see. Nothing yet. It didn't help that a swirling wind was blowing, and that the thin strip of sheltered water against the bank was constantly being disturbed.

So I trolled. I hooked and lost a fish, then finally landed a nice one.

So I went back to dries. The wind conveniently backed off, and a few fish were rising. I tied on the black ant and managed to put it right on the nose of a toothy riser.

I hooked and lost another, but it wasn't long before the ant stopped getting attention. There was a heavy hatch going on of size 22 white midges. The fish were on them. Enthusiastically.

I witnessed a phenomenon I hadn't seen before. The wind had raked up a lot of cottonwood fluff and other debris, and it festooned the lake in long swaths. The fish were concentrating on the edges and the interior of those swaths. The challenging part of that scenario was that a light breeze continued to swirl, and the swaths--and the fish--were constantly slipping away from me and my fly.

On top of that, I couldn't find the right fly. Usually some of the fish, often the bigger ones, will be opportunistic and take any reasonable fly in their eagerness to fill their stomachs. Not this time. I haven't suffered so much rejection in a long time.

Still, it was absorbing fishing, and I forgot everything except the fish and the fly until the bats and the stars came out.

So another day on the lake, unlike any that came before, came to a close. And who knows what tomorrow will bring?

Trout Lake Report: Ants

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Sunday evening at the lake; third evening in a row. Saturday night, an ant fall. Had no black flying ants. Tied some up before heading out. Sunday night, no ants. But the fish remembered. Caught a half dozen or so. Love it when that happens.

The Boys See the Elephant

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There was an expression in the Old West to describe what it was like for a tenderfoot to come west and see firsthand the grandeur and enormity of the country, and of life in it. He was said to have "seen the elephant." And once you've seen the elephant, well, it puts everything in its proper perspective.

Sunday was warm and beautiful, and the boys were aching to get back to the bass lake. It was business as usual: a little fishing, catching those jewel-like Bluegill that swarm around the dock in clouds...

And a lot of swimming.

Then it happened. They saw the elephant. This guy came in with his buddy and hoisted up a nice bass for all to see. This is the biggest bass the boys have seen taken out of this lake, and it proves that they're in there.

The boys were all eyes. So I'm wondering whether they'll be content after this with those tiny Bluegill, or whether they might get the sudden urge to venture out and find their own elephants. Especially after learning that these guys had caught a mess of little Bluegill, too, which they were going to use that night as bait for catfish that run way bigger than that bass.


Once you've seen the elephant....