Angling East, 5/7/07 (Pt. 1)

I wanted another crack at fishing the hendrickson hatch this year, but another overnight getaway isn't in the cards for a while. So Monday I took a daytrip to the northeast corner of the state, which involved just short of six hours of driving for twelve hours of fishing. Given gas prices at the moment, a trip like this is an extravagance, but I drove the same distance to about the same locations last fall for no more than seven or eight hours of hunting, so this trip was a bargain by comparison. Especially since I actually brought my quarry to hand.

My plan was to float the trophy water of the Au Sable below Mio dam, but on the way up I stopped for a quick run at the Rifle river. I fished it a few times ten or twelve years ago and have wanted to go back, but I'm always pulled another half-hour north to the Au Sable system. It doesn't get the volume or diversity of fly hatches that its norther neighbor does, and most of the trout stocked. In summer the water gets very warm, and canoeists take to the stream in herds. But, especially in the state recreation area (where I fished Mon.), it is a pretty little river, and it is the nearest "decent" trout stream to me, so it probably merits further exploration on that basis alone.



It was still cold (air in upper 40s, water about the same) when I hit the water around 9. I figured streamers were the way to go, and since I had my 4-wt, I threw unweighted ones. This drew no interest from fish, so I put on a small, conheaded black and tan muddler that hadn't caught a fish in the ten years I've carried it. On the first cast (or rather, clumsy lob), a fish chased it, and about five casts later, I caught a 10" brown that ate the fly almost as soon as it hit the water and slid beneath overhanging alders. I had another strike a short time later, then nothing more durning the half-hour I continued fishing. The sun was getting high by that time, and the temperature was approaching 60. There were lots of black caddis in the air, and I thought that the afternoon might provide some good action on those, but I had my sights set on bigger waters and, hopefully, fish, so I left around 11. Not that my determination to get on the big river blinded me to the ambient sights and smells of the season.



And there was no need to rush, as it turned out. I launched the Meadowhawk at 1:30 and fished some of the large, weighted streamers that are popular on that water, drawing a couple of hits in my first hour. As the time of the expected hatch drew closer, I put on a hendrickson nymph and fished it through both riffles and deeper runs to no avail. The hatch commenced around 3:00, but not a single trout rose. It kept going strong for two hours, and still no trout rose. I kept fishing the nymph, assuming the trout had to have their eyes on these insects one way or another. If they were, they certainly weren't looking at what I had to offer. I began to resign myself to the idea that all the afternoon would yield was a nice boat ride.



To be continued.