The rainy season has come, and with it, the need to adapt. Reflecting on the past couple of weeks, we've lived a tale of two rivers. Prior to the last rain event, I fished with Lindsay on a river to the south that had just recently reopened to angling. The water was still on the low side, leaves clung to bright stands of golden cottonwoods and the river rock remained surprisingly slick with yet unscoured summer algae. The morning called for wool gloves and beanies, which both found their way into a pocket or pack a few hours into the day. We found lots of cutthroat and a few errant coho salmon on small buggy flies in the snag-filled slow pockets along the river's edge.
We waded the tailouts easily enough and covered several miles on foot, picking yellow-bodied harvest trout from nearly every likely run. Shortly after three in the afternoon, the light began to fade and we recognized that, following the time change, we had better make our way back upstream before it got too dark as we had several river crossings ahead of us. It was the type of fall day I imagine in my dreams and every so often get to appreciate in real life. Having looked at NOAA's river prediction for the following week, we imagined it might be the last opportunity for such a day and were glad to have gotten out there one last time before it all radically changed.
The next Sunday, we decided to return after several days of stormy weather and some significant rain. Water levels were appreciably higher but the river according to the hydrograph appeared moderately fishable from past experience. As anglers we seem to be hopelessly hopeful and though we fully expected conditions to be different from the prior week, we were a bit shocked to see a river of mud and churning flotilla of big leaf maple and cottonwood leaves. It didn't look promising. Thinking that perhaps one of several tributaries was contributing much of the sediment we continued upstream. The first creek was muddy but honestly looked better than the river itself. Several miles up the road the next tributary looked a little worse, but the river still maintained its chocolaty appearance above it. At the furthest point we could access the water, we found ourselves peering over a bridge. We could argue it was remotely fishable at that point with faint hints of submerged boulders and logs emanating from the river bottom, but with the rain steadily coming down, probably couldn't count on things staying that way for long. So we drove down another river valley just to see what things looked like there. Not much better, in fact a little worse.
We eventually ended up on the Skagit to find a foot of visibility below the Sauk and slightly better, albeit somewhat crowded conditions above the confluence. We opted to fish the quiet dirty water down lower in the system. The rain stopped and we tolerated the constant pluck of drowned leaves as our flies swung through the dark depths searching. Inch by inch, the visibility improved though we ultimately caught nothing with fins. I went home to a pot roast I'd stuffed in the crockpot in the pre-dawn hours and watched the Seahawks and Cardinals game I'd recorded while fishing. I'm glad we went, even kind of knowing the score beforehand. Sometimes you just have to go see it for yourself. And the Seahawks won too, so the day was far from a loss.
The next day on the water, clarity shifted from the Sunday's shade of dark mocha to a more confidence-inspiring gray-green. And I caught a coho, a nice bright one. She was energetic and aggressive in a way that coho should be, different from the half-hearted plucky, mostly uninterested droves of salmon we fished over when the river was at its lowest. Something about a bright, fresh from the ocean fish appearing out of the greyness of seeping clouds and leafless trees can light up your day like nothing else. Sometimes it happens in October, sometimes into November, but sooner or later the seasonal shift occurs and the fishing is all of the sudden no longer the same as it has been. Fresh pods of chum and silvers will ride the rising currents and settle into soft lies where you hope to cross paths with them. Your windows will open and close relentlessly and you'll find yourself obsessing over the hydrographs and river forecast trying your best to put yourself in the right place at the right time. When it all pans out and you stumble upon some willing salmon it's well worth the effort. And even on those days when you burn half a tank of gas chasing the dream in your manic, hopelessly hopeful state it still beats doing just about anything else.
We hope you're getting some time on the water in spite of the change in weather. If you need a taste of warmer climes or inspiration for the next adventure, we're co-hosting the International Fly Fishing Film Festival at the Lincoln Theatre in Mount Vernon on Wednesday, November 18th with North Sound Trout Unlimited. We hope to see you there! We're also really excited to be almost done doing a full scale fly inventory. The bins are clean, organized and we're weeding out oddball fly sizes, discontinued patterns and such to make room for some new flies next year. Later this month, we'll be offering two dozen flies for $20 until they're gone and we have a pretty substantial selection to part with. We welcome you to help us clear out some old stock and fill your fly boxes for next season at a great deal. If you're in the market for new waders, Simms Freestone and Freestone Z's just went on sale and we still have a good stock of sale Echo Carbon and Ion XL's awaiting a loving new home. We thank you wholeheartedly for continuing to support us as your local fly shop.
We'd also like to offer an extra special thanks to our veterans and active military personnel this Veteran's Day. Your service is much appreciated and helps give us the continued freedom to get out and do what we love most. While we don't really advertise it, we do offer a 10% military discount at the shop so make sure you enjoy that benefit the next time you stop by. Beyond the prospective fishing for the next couple of months, we're working on putting together another tying class in early December and have this year's North Sound Trout Unlimited Iron Fly Competition on tap for next month as well. We'll get more information out on the date and location for that one shortly. In the meantime, stay warm and dry and savor some time on the water when Mother Nature greenlights the next trip.
Cheers,
Scott, Brandon and Lindsay
Rivers
After a seemingly eternal period of low water, we are finally seeing increased flows, once-dry creek beds funneling water again and a barrage of ever-changing conditions to contend with. It feels like a mixed blessing. Salmon fishing was tough most of last month. The coho were certainly around but in the low and clear rivers they clung to woody structure like an impenetrable fortress. We went through a lot of flies trying to get to them and when your presentation finally landed on target amidst the jumble of logs and root wads the salmon mostly seemed uninterested much of the time. On the other hand, cutthroat fishing in the lower rivers was exceptional. You could access spots on foot that were usually under water and because the structure was so clearly visible you could pick big brilliantly-hued cutthroat out of the wood with surgical precision. And yes, we still sacrificed a few flies in the process. Now we're back to the late fall roller coaster ride of rising and falling rivers. Timing is everything. If you fish rapidly rising rivers, you're generally greeted by lots of debris, turbid water and frequently uncooperative fish. On the other hand, if you get out there as the water is dropping and clearing, you may encounter some fresh coho and chum easing their way upstream.
It's been a weird salmon year. We've not generally observed a whole lot of jumping or rolling fish much of the fall, but are finding success by sticking to funnel points and areas we expect salmon to stop and rest. They may not be present when you arrive but if you persist and wait them out, they typically show up in spurts throughout your fishing session. It's definitely 8 weight season with the chum now making an appearance. Single handed rods are fine, though a shorter switch or spey rod makes repetitive casting and working around tight spaces a whole lot easier. Fly selection can be pretty simple. I tend to fish the same fly all day unless I find a compelling reason to change. The pink or purple Starlight Leech has been a go to pattern for years. If fish are showing, I know they're around and I'm not connecting, I may alternate between a bright or dark pattern to see if there's a preference. I mainly just want something I'm confident they can see in off-color water, something with weight in the head that will jig up and down when I strip it back. Other November and December favorites are the Deuce Wigalo, Dirk Wiggler, Showgirl, Popsicle, Pixies Revenge and Reverse Marabous.
While the cutthroat are generally easier to target in lower water, you can still readily find them through the end of the year. I often find them in back sloughs, braids and little pockets off the main channel where they can avoid the current. In moving water, you can't beat an egg pattern under an indicator. In slow or non-moving water Hot Bead Krystal Buggers in black or olive, olive and copper Coastal Buggers, white Coho Buggers and chartreuse Rolled Muddlers are some of our best flies for late cutthroat.
Bull trout should be making their way back into main areas of our North Sound rivers after spawning and will take a variety of streamers and egg patterns. We prefer to let them recover and fatten up on salmon eggs and flesh through November and then actively seek them out from December on as they're often gaunt and in weakened state immediate after the spawn. Next month, Dali Lamas, Galloup's Dungeons, Brig's Rippin' Roosters, black Barbell Egg Sucking Leeches and any meaty streamer pattern get their attention, as will a Glo Yarn or Slush Egg drifted under an indicator.
Lakes
While the idea of battling whitecaps on a frigid autumn lake lacks appeal for most, there are certainly days where you can experience some productive time on the water when the weather cooperates. It's been a little warmer than usual for November, meaning trout in our year round lakes should be a little more active. While the majority of stillwaters closed at the end of last month, a number remain open through the winter and can afford good fishing at times. Lone, Squalicum, Grandy and essentially any lake not specifically listed in the WDFW regs booklet are open twelve months out of the year. Fall sees fewer hatches so trout turn to staples like leeches, chironomid larvae (bloodworms), scuds if present and sometimes daphnia for sustenance. BH Mini Leeches, Balanced Leeches and Balanced Squirrel Leeches, BH Simi Seal Leeches, Hot Head Squirrel Leeches and Chan's BMW's are some of our fall favorites on a variety of western Washington lakes. Add an assortment of Blobs and a few bloodworm patterns like the BC Bloodworm or Rowley's Holo Worm and you're pretty well covered for bugs. According to the NW Toxic Algae website, Pass Lake is no longer exceeding the dangerous level for toxic algae, however the parking lot was still barricaded off closing access to the lake earlier this week. We expect it should re-open shortly. If fishing Pass, add some minnow imitating patterns like a #6 olive and white Clouser or Baby Fat Minnow to your box as they will typically feed on minnows near shoreline structure until the water temperatures really drop in the late fall. Also of note, Cranberry Lake in Deception Pass State Park was just stocked with a good number of larger rainbow trout and could be worth a visit in the next several weeks.
Beaches
Not a whole lot to report on the North Sound beach scene this time of year. We're typically back on the local beaches come early spring around here but you can still find pretty good cutthroat fishing deeper in the South Sound and Hood Canal through the winter.