After a day of research at the Grayling Library and the Crawford Co. Historical Museum last Wednedsay, I arrived at a favorite spot on the upper AS mainstream around 7:30. Saw little bug activity over the next two hours--some slate-wing olive spinners near 9, a handful of large and small stoneflies, caddis that I could have counted on my fingers. I did see some rises is quiet water behind logs at the edges of the stream and took three nice brookies fishing those areas. Missed a few other strikes, too. Faster water brought only a few dinks to my fly. The hits came on a #18 olive dun and a #12 isonychia dun.
The water was as high as I'd ever seen it. Grayling had been hit hard with rain in the morning before I got there, making wading precarious in stretches where it's usually a carefree proposition. It would get worse, too. In camp that night, after writing in my fishing journal, I pondered whether I should just go to be or stay up and have a beer. I decided on bed, which was a good thing, since about three minutes after I laid down, it started to rain fairly hard. I woke up a few times in the night and heard the rain then, too.
As of the next morning, the river hadn't risen much. I fished right below my campsite, starting with a streamer that took a small but respectable brown and moved a couple of others. A few SWOs appeared after 8 that attracted some feeders, though I kept my streamer on in hopes of luring a larger fish. Trico spinners showed around 8:45, and just before nine they hit the water and I rigged a dry fly leader. Feeding was not heavy. Fish would rise once, then go quiet for a while. Patiently working the sluggish risers I saw, I got two nice brook trout and had a few other brief hookups. After about 9:30, fished keyed in on the olives again and I took a couple more brookies.
It was a tough morning, and not only because of the unresponsiveness of the fish. The river ran faster than usual, thus creating drag and requiring mending faster than usual. I had to think more carefully about how to lay the fly on the water, since often the fly would begin dragging almost as soon as it hit. Usually I can let the cast fall and throw mends afterward. Slack casts, reach casts, pile casts were the order of the day.
That would be about as good as the fishing got. Thursday night I fished the South Branch down in the Mason Tract and got a single 8" brook trout for my troubles. Almost no insects came out.
Friday morning I fished below my camp again. The impact of the previous night's rainfall was evident, with the water higher and more discolored than the day before. I got on the water around 8, and saw that a good SWO hatch was already underway. Feeding was scattered and sporadic. I worked a shallow but brushy run where I had seen some splashy rises and go two hits--both while I was looking at something else! With the first, I turned back to see my fly emerging back out of a swirl in the water, and I never saw the second until the fish was on my line. When I felt a pull, I turned back to see a nice brown cartwheeling out of the water, and when he went back in my line went slack.
The tricos came out on schedule, but few hit the water, and mine did not interest any of the feeding fish. I switched back to the SWO and hooked a couple of dinks.
By 10:30, I could feel the scorch of midday approaching. I had to break camp and make it down to Roscommon to conduct an interview at 1 PM, so I called it a morning.
Although this wasn't a fishing trip per se, I did get a good amount of fishing in. I don't really wish I could have fished more while I was there--but I would not have minded a few more mornings trying to fool those finicky risers.
Tags: Fishing; Fly Fishing
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