The Mystery Fish

Swinging streamers has never been much my style. Part of that is to do with the species I have easy access to. I suspect if I were very frequently fishing for salmon and steelhead I'd be swinging flies much more often, but it is my opinion an experience that a down and across swinging streamer for the trout in the waters I fish is one of the least effective methods of presenting a meaty fly an getting trout to pounce on it. I'm far more inclined to present a streamer up and across with a fast retrieve when fish are aggressive, or straight up with a slow retrieve for less active fish, even dead drifting tight lined or under an indicator for the most lethargic trout. But I've realized that whether swinging is the most effective method of presenting a streamer to my trout around here or not, by not practicing on them I'm setting myself up for failure when I actually do get to go swing flies for Atlantic or Pacific salmon or steelhead. I do practice with my spey rod, here an there, very infrequently, but not enough to have a rhythm, for my cast to be automatic, or for me to know exactly what my fly is doing in the water on each swing. So practice I must, and I'm taking every opportunity to fish big water I can to do so. When my good friend Joe asked if I wanted to join him an our mutual friend Dan and suggested the Farmington, I said yes quickly. Mostly because I hadn't fished with them for far too long, but also because it would be an excellent chance to swing flies on water I've fished a lot but never applied the technique to. It was a brutally windy day, and the fishing was slow. But it was great to be out there with those guys on the river, feeling manly because we were some of the only people tough or crazy enough to be there in those conditions (Here's to Dave Machowski and the handful of other nuts that were out there in that shit with us, cheers! *clink*).

Though the fish weren't on fire, Dan an I pulled on a few. I missed some really solid grabs and caught two small fish, one a survivor strain with a red elastomer. Dan got the best fish of the day, one right about 20 inches, and lost a slob. Joe skunked out, which is surprising because typically in the winter I'm the one skunking when I fish the Farmington in the winter.

Photo Courtesy Joseph Apanowith, taken by Dan Allegue

The highlight of the day for me was seeing a trio of otters, who seemed just as surprised to see me out fishing on such a day as I was them. All three would dive and pop back up staring at me in tandem. It was really amusing and had me laughing aloud. 

In more comfortable conditions the next day I was out swinging again closer to home. On the Farmington I'd been fishing quite large intruder style flies, but I switched to smaller stuff to fish near home and it proved to be effective enough on the dumb ones.

 
After covering water I knew had fish, I moved upriver to water I was fairly confident wouldn't have anything but was a classic run to swing. I started at the top, made two swing, took a step, and continued that rhythm until I reached the bottom. I never felt a thing to make me think I'd touched a fish during that work through.

When I got to the end of the tailout I retrieved, grabbed my leader, an then noticed something on my fly. On closer inspection, it turned out to be two somethings. Two scales, actually. At some point while I fished that stretch of water, I had indeed made contact with some sort of mystery fish without ever noticing it. In a run I'd typically write off as a likely spot to catch a winter fish, something as simple as two scales on a hook changed my understanding of how this river I'd fished for more than 10 years could fish in the winter. I will be back for that mystery fish. I have to catch it, whatever it is.

Until next time.

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

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