It's Wild Trout Time (again)

With the temperature reaching a toasty 35 degrees today I headed for my local river. No bugs were hatching but fish were rising steadily and uniformly throughout the glassy pool. A sure sign that spring is finally upon us.

Perfect wild trout habitat

Trout rose uniformly, this spring day

Recognizing the subtle rises of wild brown trout fresh off the tide, I rigged with American Nymphs and dry caddis, but the fish would have none of it! I sensed that something more traditional was in order. Looking to my trusty Weatley fly box, the answer came to me as it had on so many March days on this particular chalk stream. 

A hackled wet fly. Perfect for wild brown trout, today

Chalk aquifers feed the wild trout of southern Connecticut

I was rewarded with 37 of the most wonderful mix of domestic wild browns and fresh-run sea-trout.  

Another fin perfect wild trout falls for the traditional soft-hackle wet fly. Just last week there were no trout in the river. Where do the wild beauties go in winter?

Anything's possible in March. A wild sea-trout, fresh from the sea

 

March Wild trout will rise through a concrete bridge

As sure as winter turns to spring, it's reassuring - some would say magical - to know that wild trout will be caught with predictable regularity when March comes around, as if they had always been there.

Tight Lines,

Jonny 

Peripheral: Product News

Aside from the occasional review of light tackle or rehydration techniques, we don't go in for product testing and review, much less endorsement.

Cars drove over my TFO Lefty Kreh rod last year, a replacement for the older model I'd shut in the garage door the year before in my rush to the culvert. This time I came clean, explaining to the company that, in all conscience, I'd been a perfect imbecile for leaving it atop the Lezbaru and driving off; that they shouldn't take pity.

TFO just sent me a new one, which means I have had three of their very serviceable and altogether quite likable rods for a total outlay of $150 (give or take postage). This is three good fishing rods - and realistically, there will be more - all for the princely sum of 90 of my superior British Pounds Sterling (that's 30 quid each, or half a tank of petroleum. And no, not the jelly.) The latest of what is truly a TFO Professional "series" was dispatched in record time, arriving today just as the Forsythia shows the first bloom.

As has been my unpleasant experience, if this were an Orvis product, hand crafted on the silky soft thighs of a Vermont milkmaid (in China, at my price point), I would likely have received a lowly percent value of the old model, such is the speed with which Orvis re-brand what is, to the eye of the average non-idiot, the very same product.

And so dear reader we take momentary pause - rightfully fleeting, altogether insignificant - to recognize TFO, a company for which a "100% lifetime warranty" is, in fact, just that.

Peripheral, but not a given, this day.

Carry on.

EJ

Another take on November steelhead

Jonny made this film several months ago, then hid it away when Todd made his. But they're both good, so I've taken the liberty of putting this one up.
 
New York, November 2013 from English Jonny on Vimeo.

Some thoughts on experts

Simply radiant.

“When you are younger you waste a great deal of time figuring out whether you are good or not. Later on you know perfectly well, good or bad or indifferent, and the problem drifts away.” 
                           - Jim Harrison, in Valdene’s “For a Handful of Feathers” 


Once upon a time, there was a king who lived with his queen in the castle upon the hill. The villagers liked their king because he would regularly regale them with tales of adventure and derring-do. In fact, he rarely shut the fuck up. He was particularly fond of talking about his lovely queen, whom he loved very much. She never left the castle so the villagers never actually saw her but they knew from his stories that she was the most beautiful woman in all the land. It was said that the stars shone through her eyes and that the Sun grew jealous at the sight of her radiant golden hair. They also knew, from his stories, that the two of them enjoyed amazing and frequent sex. There was little doubt among the villagers that the King was the most virile of men, and the most skilled in the ways of love. 

One day, a lone peasant was walking the small stream that flowed through the wood when he caught a glimpse of two people locked in love’s embrace upon the streamside’s mossy bed. He at once recognized the King and then deduced that his lover must be the pulchritudinous queen herself. He watched as long as he felt it was safe, then quietly slinked away. 

The next morning, the peasant and his friend were fishing for trout in the stream.

“I saw the Queen yesterday,” said the peasant.

“Really?” said his peasant friend.

“Yep. The King and Queen were right here, alongside the stream,” said the peasant.

“Well, is she as beautiful as they say?” asked the peasant friend. 

“No. She’s not real. She’s a blow-up doll,” he replied.

“A blow-up doll!? The villagers think she is real! The King is a liar!!” screamed the peasant friend.

“Well, not exactly,” said the peasant.

“What do you mean?” asked the peasant friend.

“He thinks she’s real too," answered the peasant. 

* * * *

At that moment, a very large brown trout rose and both anglers saw it. The peasant made a beautiful back cast, which quickly hung up in the branches behind him. The trout bolted downstream, far out of sight. 

The two peasants roared with laughter, the way some peasants do.

Fly Fishing Expo!

I went to my first ever fly fishing Expo yesterday. It was nice to see some friends,  many of whom have become experts and were thus demonstrating their skills, working up their brands, and hopefully selling shit. On the whole I found the experience as bizarre as I'd expected; a show about fly-fishing where products and angler status are pushed to the fore. I'm glad that my fishing isn't really like that, and that the industry is largely corralled into these mega-sales events. I think this was my last fly fishing expo.  

The best part was talking to a nice guy from the DEEP about the history of trout in Connecticut. He was knowledgeable and realistic about the whole thing. So what if he couldn't pronounce Loch Leven? I also got chatting to a Spey casting enthusiast who seemed as bemused at the whole expo thing as I was.

Yesterday also happened to be the first day for weeks when the temperature reached above freezing, so I had a quite word with myself about my own stupidity at being inside a hall full of fishing stuff. And that is how I came to fish a Class 1 WTMA in the northern part of the state. It hardly seems important that none of the fish* I pricked came to hand. Exploring this new stream was absolutely delightful, and I look forward to skipping other fly fishing expos so I can explore it some more.

Char hangout

I waded right through this deep bend, expertly letting my dry fly float the curve to waiting fish that were not there.

Walking on shelf ice is quite an exciting game for an angler in the region of 200lbs.

Indiana Jones and the Stream of Doom

Wintry mix

I met a man walking his pointers. He explained this whole area had been a private hunting ground for CT well-to-dos way back when. The woodlands and general landscape suggested as much. A real made to measure sporting estate.

My fishing rod.

I also visited the shoreline this week. It seems fishing is in full swing.

 This is one of my summer kayak put-ins. Any day now....

Surf is in no way up.

Ice plates

Fucking Winter

--Jonny



*Two, course.