Guiding Updates: Rolling Into June

 May has been a pleasant little mixed bag month for me. I was away for a good third of doing non-fish things but catching fish anyway (see my last post for that tidbit). I'll probably write a little more about that trip soon, and possibly some on Patreon. But I guided a good number of trips this mo th while I was around and things were productive on the whole. The floodplain continued to spit out carp, in fact the water finally peaked while I was away and is up at a pretty good level even now if anyone wants to squeeze in one last go at my best selling type of trip. This year wasn't as good for numbers, on the whole, but was pretty darned good for size....

Dave Nguyen wins best of the season- unless something dramatic happens in the next two weeks -with two stud commons including the long 20 pounder above, and a gorgeous mirror as well!

We've been light on the morphs this season, with only one fantail/longfin, one mirror, and no ghosts. Though a bit of everything has been seen, it does seem to take a plethora of six plus fish days to get a good number of those odd ones. Other than the carp, of course, I've been floating the marginal rivers as often as I can. This has been a wonderful extended, wet, cool spring to hold the trout fishing out. This could break at any time and we could pop into high water temperatures at any time, so it's very much a "get while the gettin' is good" proposition. Eric's brother got him a trip for his birthday and he made good of a decent nymph bite and got a good smallmouth eat on the streamer as well! Those double digit days seeing hardly a soul out on some of Eastern Connecticut's best rivers is why I needed a raft and it's been great getting to work many of my old stomping grounds in a new way. 

Going into June, thing look very promising! Here's my guiding agenda for the month: 

Carp are far from over, as always that's still very much on the agenda. June is more of a classic mud flats fishing scenario, and the river can't stay high forever. It'll also eventually transition to more of a morning bite. It already had, but this cooler weather had them going all day again for a bit there. 

Bowfin are the next headliner, one of my favorites and a really engaging sight fishing target. I struggle to sell trips for them for whatever reason, but it certainly isn't the quality of the species of the fishing... people just haven't caught on yet. Don't be late to that party, they're awesome!

Because it looks like the water will stay pretty decent for a while, I'll keep doing trout trips going into June. Dry flies will be the main focus with some streamer fishing when the water levels permit. I'll also do some night time floats on a couple of the big eastern river as well if anyone is interested in that! 

Lastly as far as freshwater goes, pike... the cooler weather and rain has also extended the post spawn pike fishing, so that is yet another good option. 

On the salt, it's already sight fishing time. I've got a handful of dates on the calendar for sight fishing trips already on prime tides, and if sigh fishing for striped bass is something you'd like to learn I recommend  reaching out soon. Last year was pretty darned good when conditions were amicable, and it made up for what would end up being a very poor fall run. I'll take the flats fishing over blitzing schoolies any day, anyway. Of course I'll do multispecies salt trips as well, though that hasn't kicked off just yet, including scup, fluke, weakfish, black seabass, and whatever else wants to play, both of fly and light or ultralight spinning gear. That's been a crowd pleaser the last few years, and as far as fly and light tackle for that game goes I'll confidently toot my own horn and say no other local guides do it as much or as well as I do.

Last but not least, I'm planning on organizing a couple water chestnut pulls locally on the Connecticut River backwaters. I wrote about water caltrop here, and after seeing a few patches pop up in new places over the last two seasons, where they should be manageable with some low-impact hand pulling, I hope to keep the places that pay my bills free of this nasty aquatic invasive species. If you have a small personal watercraft like a canoe, raft, or kayaks and would like to help, reach out to via email at brwntroutangler@gmail.com and I'll keep you updated on when I'm planning of doing pulls. 

Happy almost summer everyone, thanks to all my clients and readers, and stay healthy and safe! 

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Franky, Geof, Luke, Noah, Justin, Sean, Tom, Mark, Jake, Chris, Oliver, oddity on Display, Sammy, and Cris & Jennifer, Hunter, Gordon, Thomas, Trevor, Eric, Evan, and Javier for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version. 

Here Be Carp

From the hotel room I could hear two young anglers chatting with one of the hotel guests on the back deck. These kids were local, not guests at the hotel, but somehow in suburban Michigan I'd stepped into a prior time and these kids were biking in and fishing without getting kicked out. That doesn't happen much in Connecticut anymore, and not just because I'm not a kid anymore (debatably, I'm still plenty immature), but I'd doubt my best friend Dalton and I could have biked to such a place when we were 14 or 15 years old and not gotten the boot if such a thing existed in Connecticut. He and I did trespass a lot, often cautiously, and we still got kicked out sometimes. There was something refreshing about these kids being at least tacitly permitted on the premises of a lakeside hotel. It felt like a whisper of a former time. There was also something refreshing about these kids targeting carp. That's what they were talking about, as I listened through the all-too-sound-permeable wall. And the adult guest was poo-pooing it. "Carp? why not fish for something that actually pulls? Those are just big soggy lumps". I snorted, probably loudly enough for them to hear me. Tell me you've never carp fished without telling me you've never carp fished. They can be accused of more than a few negative characteristics, but not pulling isn't one. Of course I've had a few dullards on the end of my line, but on the whole... they pull and they pull well. And since I hadn't seen these carp yet nor anticipated their presence in the crystal clear, 90 foot deep private lake, I glanced at my prototype Atlas 4wt in the corner and smirked. It was going to get hurt, now that I had this piece of information. 

The carp's introduction to North America is one spans back a couple centuries. Though they are still broadly looked down upon today, as evidenced by that other hotel guest, they weren't always. In fact they're so ubiquitous today because they held thousands of years of history as food, sport, and ornament in Europe in Asia. Another hotel guest, Dan, told me about the large koi found in some high mountain lakes in his native California and how they'd been brought there by Chinese railroad workers during the gold rush. That's just a piece of the puzzle though, as both amur carp (koi), and more often common carp, were being brought into the US and cultivated by enterprising individuals in hopes of providing food for the masses. Inevitably, they got around. Nary a state in this union lacks common carp, withstanding Florida which, contrary to the belief of many that carp like it hot, is too warm for too much of the year to have robust and sustaining populations. And evidently these wild carp lacked the flavor and appeal that cultivated ones had, and coupled with the rapidly deteriorating quality of many water bodies across the country due to industrialization, carp fell out of favor. Not only did they fall out of favor, but their ability to survive what we wrought on native species resulted in a general disdain and even blame, and that eventually grew into a distaste and disdain to even native species that resemble the carp. The American reaction to the invasive nature of common carp was so severe it caused many to look down on fish like buffalo and redhorse that share commonalities. Though the cult of carp that I've profited from has begun to turn the tide a little on the dislike of the species, the general displeasure is still there. I've meet plenty that cringe or wince when I say I guide for carp, though many of those are casual anglers or not anglers at all. I discourage moving carp around and in some cases even encourage their removal, they don't belong here and aren't ecologically beneficial... but that certainly doesn't dismiss their value as angling sport, and I feel increasingly less bad about stabbing non-natives in the face for fun and more bad about bothering the more incumbered natives. 

In many of the places I fish in Connecticut, the water is shallow and turbid, indeed in part because of the carp. That contrasted in many ways from this lake, which was clear as can be. The bottom was sand and gravel though, which doesn't lend to turbidity. The lake was a  kettle lake that had been enlarged by a small dam. Apparently it exceeded 90 feet in depth. That  would be astounding for a lake of similar size in Connecticut, especially given the flat landscape. This was a classic kettle lake, which we do have in Connecticut though none that I know of are quite like this. These a relic of the glaciers, where large chunks of ice remained as the glacier retreated. Imbedded in deep sediment, these pieces took a long time to melt and left large depressions when they finally did. They're one of the more obvious evidences of the glacial history on this landscape, though perhaps less dramatic than remnants I'd see after leaving Michigan. On Kelley's Island in Lake Erie, the glaciers left incredible gouges in Devonian limestone. 

The water around Kelley's Island was just as clear as that little kettle lake, but there were carp out there too, I'm told. And that is no surprise. Before gawking at the glacial grooves I was watching small carp thrash the shallows of marshes in Erie County, with terns wheeling overhead making it sound like home on long Island sound, limestone causeways and canals making it look like Florida, and the carp.... I don't know what the carp made it feel like, other than that I was being followed by them. I couldn't stay away if I tried. The frothed the shallows of the marshland to a soupy brown mess. That's the turbidity I'm used to. But back in Michigan, with a little bit of waiting, I was watching fish feed in seven feet of water thirty feet away. 

The clarity wasn't all that differed from home. These carp, I'd learn, weren't fans of seeing the fly on the fall. I almost need to see it drop through the murk, but these ones would spook from it. After a few blown opportunities that resulted in fish taking of at speed as thy spotted a sinking yellow sucker spawn fly, I opted to fish an almost bait-like tactic. A cast was made a cast when fish were still 15 or more feet away. Then I waited. And waited. And waited some more. 

Though I generally chose to fish a fly, I think this spot-and stalk strategy with bait or artificial is equally exhilarating. When you can see the carp and watch her movements, drawing nearer or retreating from your hook, suspense builds. Especially when she is a really big one. I watch, my heart beating more and more loudly as she works ever closer to my little yellow fly. The water is so clear that I can see her eyes and barbels working as she forages, seeking out anything that might be calorically beneficial- something my fly certainly isn't, but I could hope it would catch her eye. I dare not move a muscle as she got within six inches of the fly. She dipped and tucked into a little patch of detritus next to a rock, mouth working hard and pectoral fins waving to push her into the good stuff. That waving action swirled the water near my fly and it's lightness allowed it to tumble a couple of inches in a little whirlpool. Her left eye turned down and I could have sworn she looked right at the fly. And she probably did, because she left what she'd been digging at and with flared lips pressed right down on the fly. I waited for her mouth to close and lifted the four weight only lightly. The heavy creature responded with violence and speed, running no less tan 140 yards down the lake (Soggy lump my butt). It was then my task for the next ten minutes to subdue a creature well over 20 pounds on a rod made to catch small trout, a job it was evidentially up for despite that intent. 

Though that trip was in part a fishing break for me- believe it or not I do want to do other things more than angling -it is impossible to say no when a freshwater fish that size wanders in front of me. Yet many people do still scoff and say no, and that I'll just never understand.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Franky, Geof, Luke, Noah, Justin, Sean, Tom, Mark, Jake, Chris, Oliver, oddity on Display, Sammy, and Cris & Jennifer, Hunter, Gordon, Thomas, Trevor, Eric, Evan, and Javier for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version. 

A Single Sailboat

 I take significant strides to avoid the hendrickson crowds. It's a hatch I enjoy fishing, they're such a classic ephemera that can bring up some larger wild trout under the right conditions, but that means everyone and their mother is just as keen to fish them on the major rivers. And unfortunately the hatch just doesn't happen everywhere, even in places where it used to. The Housatonic doesn't seem to have a Hendrickson hatch to speak of anymore. Nobody quite knows why, and it may be a site by site problem, but aquatic insects are, on the whole, not doing so hot. In some places, nutrient deficiency means less bugs- ironically, septic tank leaks and farm runoff with manure in it isn't always the worst thing. In others, perhaps the runoff is the issue. Streams are more "flashy" now as areas develop with paved, impervious surfaces, so flows are more sporadic and less stable. And there's that pesky road salt. So wandering to places questionable has become the mantra, wondering if there will be bugs at all. Find a rock or log next to a pool or run, sit, ponder, don't make a cast unless a trout rises. And so I found myself standing next in a pool somewhere in Massachusetts after watching sleepily for a while. There'd been some duns flying by. I caught one, looked at it for a while and took some pictures. 

Eventually, looking into the reflective glare toward the top of the pool, on of the little sailboats appeared alone. In twirled through little eddies and rode down a seem, standing out like a sore thumb. Hapless little creatures they are in this state, its no wonder trout eat them with such abandon sometimes. Though this bug was by itself, I wondered if enough fish were looking upward to intercept it or if, by emerging in such sparsity the mayflies today were making it to the air freely without exception. It drew nearer, still drifting along. This is anthropomorphizing to an egregious degree, but that little bug looked happy to me. She bobbed along with her wings perked up skyward in the bright sunlight, seemingly carefree and safe as could be. My gaze followed it as it meandered down the seem. It then fluttered once, fluttered again, and in one fateful instant before it overcame the surface tension and took to the air, a foot long trout rose and she disappeared in a small splash. "Aww..." I uttered audibly though I was alone. That's when I stood, and decided that I'd seek vengeance for that little bug. The pool was wide and deep but I made it to a comfortable rock  above and across from where the trout had taken the bug and within reach of  a forty foot cast. It was a slow effort, as I didn't want to send ripples over the only fish I'd so far seen rise in a few trips of this sort. Once there, careful triangulations were performed to determine where that trout had been as the fly was dressed. Then I let fly a cast. I'd decided that this revenge would be swift but fair, it wouldn't take more than one cast. My fly and leader landed with slack to spare, and as the fly settled into that same seem the mayfly had taken her final ride down it looked much like that singular little sailboat had. And evidently I was not the only one that thought so as the trout came to it just as willingly as it had the natural. The battle was pretty one sided, admittedly. Modern fly tackle more than capable of subduing twelve inches of squirming brown trout. At hand, I scolded the trout, removed my fly, then sent it off with a smile. That had been enough for me, and I packed it in for the day. 

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Franky, Geof, Luke, Noah, Justin, Sean, Tom, Mark, Jake, Chris, Oliver, oddity on Display, Sammy, and Cris & Jennifer, Hunter, Gordon, Thomas, Trevor, Eric, Evan, and Javier for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version.