Teach the dog to Tie.

Tying some up.

I turn my back for one minute and Rua, the in-house Rhodesian Ridgeback tries to tie her own flies. Apparently she loves the chartreuse bucktail.  Her tying session was not all that successful, but every 5 years or so, I really should thin out the decades of feathers and hair that I haven't used and never will. 

     Back on track, I tied some Goddard Caddis using a video from  MidCurrent, http://midcurrent.com/videos/fly-tying/. A dab of zap-a-gap certainly simplified this complex fly. They also had a caddis emerger pattern but it called for New Zealand white wool. I guess Rua ate it, so I substituted z-ylon.

On to the Arkansas.

Ned convinced me to try upstream of Vallie Bridge on the Arkansas. 

You've always got to share the Arkansas. Rafters, fly fishers, campers, Christos  Over-The-River  (hope not), and apparently horse.

The Arkansas is fishing very, very well this year. Thanks to a mild runoff and lots of bugs last year, and a long sustained runoff this year, the fish are large, healthy, and hungry. 

Later  in a side channel above Wellsville Bridge I found this little pocket on the left,

seam in the middle,

and shelf on the right.

I couldn't seem to do anything wrong. They loved the Goddard Caddis. I caught the rainbow below, clicked and released it, flicked my fly into the water to get ready to cast and wham! This brown decided to take the caddis emerger for the first time today.

 Catch 

This net filling rainbow appears to have had a luck encounter with an eagle that just missed the mark by grabbing to far near the tail. That's why we all call it fishing.

And Release

This is my favorite part of fly fishing. The gentle below the water , stress free release.  The brown just wanders out and moseys off.

 

What worked.

The Goddard Caddis was the winner today but only after I switched to 4x. The monster takes by these large Arkansas browns broke me off before I could even set a hook. After three of these I finally changed. I'm a slow learner. 

Spinners or Flies

 Carrie and Patrick both have hand fly rods I made them last year for Christmas. They both tied flies with me at least once. But getting the fly rods, the flies, me, and the grand kids all near the water at the same time is not all that easy. On June 22 the stars aligned on Lake Osawa at Tris and Garry's house. I was hoping at least one of them would get hooked on the tug.

Carrie was first with a monster sun fish on an Adams. Why the furrowed brow?

The classic, "I caught it myself" pose. So much better than "Grip and Grin."

Patrick will not be out done by his sister.

Yes, He's into one with Carrie on hand to help with the landing.

He's hooked! On his own he tried night fishing with a spinner from the dock.  He's into it now with the black bass.

While rigging him up, Patrick confessed, "Grand Peré? I'll probably only use this fly rod when I'm fishing with you."

"Patrick," I said. "That's OK with me. I hope you get to use it a lot."

Early quest for high mountain cutthroats, boletus edulis mushrooms and exotic brook trout.

     I know, I know. It's still early in the year above 8,000 feet. But I have these 4 tents to test for Field and Stream magazine and a vision in my head of finding little pockets and slow water along the banks of the St. Vrain near my campsite where a pot of coffee is warming, just like John Gerach.
    Am I blessed or cursed with these fly fishing visions of high mountain streams and camping near them. When I read the Rocky Mountain National Park backcountry camping guide, the vision gets a little murky. Those wilderness camping sites are in specific numbered spots arrayed between 30 minutes and a couple hours of hiking. The 1.5 hour forced march, hauling a backpack with boots, waders, lunch, water and a fly rod to Spruce Lake was just marginally doable. Hiking even that distance with the additional tent, bear proof container w/food, sleeping bag and pad, and water filtration equipment would ruin my fishing day. I now have to modify my dream to camp in a driveup camp ground, get early booking on the camp site closest to the trail head, or lease some pack animals. Just like all dreams, reality has a way of mucking it up.
    Here's what happened. Bottom line.. no boletus yet. Middle St Vrain was too high to find the nice soft spots behind rocks and along banks. Only unknown creek out of Rainbow Lakes was charming with a couple of nice brook trout on a dry tricho. There's an interesting story about a lost and then found 12 year old to go with that adventure for a later blog post.