Arkansas River

My friend Tommy and I finally had been able to synch our schedules together, and Monday found us headed down I25 to the Arkansas river looking for the famous Mother's Day Caddis hatch. We arrived to the local fly shop who told us the hatch was on, but in town and not yet up the canyon where we wanted to fish. We headed upstream into Bighorn Canyon and I immediately fell in love with this river. The scenery is different than any I had fished in -"stone" would be the adjective of choice. "Big" would be another one to describe the river and the surrounding walls.

I started with a golden stonefly nymph trailed 20" by a #18 pheasant tail nymph as Tommy and I started working a likely looking hole. He was first into the fish with a huge 8" brown, the size of which he told me he never caught in this river. Working upstream we both got into larger fish. I nailed a 16" brown on the PT in a deep channel against the bank and several more on the way up. One beautiful run, about 100yds long, shoved up against a steep stony bank below a wide riffle, provided me with a half dozen or so fish of the same size, but now they started taking the stonefly. I'd cast up and across and take some fish on the dead drift and some on the downstream swing, and then walk a few steps and repeat.

Next, around 12:30, we drove upstream to look for BWO. We soon saw the duns on the surface, being blown over by the wind, but fish were not very active on top. We pulled a few fish out of this stretch, with Tommy catching a very pretty brown of about 18".

We headed down into Canyon City and fished the Riverwalk area from 2:30 until 4:30. Caddis were in the air - not extremely thick but for sure a key event. There were enough bugs in the air that we had them crawling on our necks and the fish were slashing the surface with frequency. I was working across stream and having trouble seeing the fly and setting the hook into meat when I could see it. A bit of panic set in, as I figured this was the end of the hatch and it could be over any minute. I change flies several times but never really got into it well. Had many strikes, especially when I added a little action to the flies. Tommy was doing much better than I, especially with a pod of fish immediately upstream to him. We both pulled fish out, mostly on a black bodied tan winged elk hair caddis.

After a beer at the truck, we checked in with the flyhshop who said the hatch happened early, at 12:00, due to the warm night they had. Checking the websites today, 5 days later, the main shops are saying the hatch has not yet made its way above Texas Creek.

Blue River

Sunday, I arrived above Green Mtn Reservor at 8:30 to a river flowing at 200cfs, with air temps and grey windy skies that would cause snow to fly later in the day. After crossing the swift river to a likely looking slower area along the far margins, I cast a black woolly bugger up and across from my 4 wt a few times. Letting the fly swing down and across over a small depression in the riverbed, just as it started to swing out the indicator paused and I slowly lifted the rod. On the end was a nice 20" cutthroat shaped like a football.

After I released him, I saw two large fish swim upstream in front of me. After looking for a while I spotted one of them tucked up under a tangle of overhanging branches along the bank. No way I could get a fly in there I thought, and considered not even trying. Then, after a few minutes of studying the situation I saw an opportunity to cast upstream, mend over a large exposed boulder and swing the fly under the branches. After a few tries I nailed the cast and waited as the indicator floated in line toward the fish and then stopped.

As soon as I set the hook I knew the chance of landing him were very small - 4 wt rod, 5x tippet and a swift river don't usually add up. This was one of those fish that don't move when you put the hook in the corner of its mouth but, after a few seconds slowly drift toward you and thrashed their head wildly out of the water. This nearly 30" rainbow, with bright red cheeks and sides, was ready to give me a wild ride. And then he stopped. And then he ran down stream. But he was still in the slower water so I thought, foolishly for a moment, that I had a chance. Then he went into the current and downstream behind a boulder, positioning himself, using all the exposed boulders like squares on a chess board. I knew what was about to begin. This was not a time to hold the rod up in the air with one hand and grip the cork lightly against the fat thumb cushion. This was going to be a tuck your elbow in and pull back on the rod fight about to unleash. I chased him a bit, stumbling over rocks. And then he pushed out into the stream behind the next boulder down. I angled him a bit, and he paused, and I made some progress pulling in line on him. Then the reel screamed, and screamed taking me nearly into my backing. Snap. Broke off and kept four feet of leader, my indicator and wooly bugger. I returned to the scene of the crime and sat on a boulder.

Later I landed a 18" brown on another WB and then returned back to where I hooked the huge rainbow. There, dangling in the current, was my indicator. He was back!!! I quickly tied on a golden stonefly. Thunder crashed over the mountains. Sleet started and I pulled my hood over my head. Game on, I thought.

I few casts later and he took it. Again, no response for a few seconds until I put some side pressure on him. He moved away, thrashed, and was gone again. The fly slipped out this time. I could still see him there and tried a third fly. This time he didn't bother.