Salmon Flies

[Newsman]

The salmon fly hatch is the most over-rated phenomenon in Western trout fishing. Still, it gets my juices flowing when I think about it. When it's right, it's great. The illusion is that hordes of trout, all of them three-pound twenty-inchers, gulp in big dry flies with abandon. You fish until your arm aches. That's equivalent to sitting in your blind on a foggy morning, sounding a greeting call just once, and having the sky turn black with so many ducks that you can't miss. Or shooting a perfect round of golf. Could happen, but... Reality is usually that of slapping a runoff-swollen bank with Wooly Buggers or Bitch Creeks, being more than content with hard-won sixteen inchers, hoping for a big one. The big fish do come, often enough to keep us out there, and there are spurts of dry fly activity that can be superb. And that's good enough. Unrealistic expectations can spoil 'what is, and if we're well prepared and willing to accept what is, in whatever form it takes, we can have a lot of fun with the salmon fly hatch. Salmon flies are always a gamble. Fishing any salmon fly hatch on any Western river requires some basic preparation. I hear reports every season of trips ruined for anglers who rely on one favorite pattern or type of fly when something else is required. For openers, I have a favorite salmon fly dry pattern. It works most of the time. But when I'm purposefully hunting down trout that might be taking salmon flies, I carry a couple of other patterns as well. I vary the sizes, and I vary the types of flies that I carry. I carry some for rough water conditions, flies that are fully dressed with materials that will float through whitecaps, and some with accurate silhouettes that will float half-submerged in slow water. Foam-bodied flies fill the bill where floatability is the main requirement, but body shape and silhouette should not be sacrificed to material choice. I've fished foam flies that twist leaders, land upside-down, and cause all sorts of aggravation. When you find such a fly on your leader, cut it off and fish something that is a little more pleasant to manage, even if you have to stop and dress it every so often. You'll feel better, and probably catch more fish. The best foam-bodied flies are a bit bulky to cast, but not unmanageable. They have wings and legs of some sort to complete a bug-like silhouette. They float forever. Foam is my second choice when nothing else works to meet rough water conditions. When needed, such a fly is indispensable. Most of the time I find that it floats too high. My first choice is to avoid it in favor of something more life-like. Watch natural salmon flies. They hit the water with a splat. They flutter, if you can call it that, on the surface. They flap and buzz their wings while their bodies make a considerable dent in the surface film. The size and shape of that dent in the surface film (you can hardly call it a dimple, with salmon flies) is critical. With smaller flies and fussy trout, well-schooled anglers pay a lot of attention to that dimple in the film. They know that trout see that dimple and key on it. Why not do the same with a larger fly and increase your chances? Early in the hatch, when the trout are in a frenzy, you can get away with just about anything. Later on, though, the fish key on things more specific than general size and color. Show 'em a body silhouette that resembles the natural, and makes a dent in the water like a natural does, and you'll catch more fish. I also carry bright and dull-colored flies to meet different light conditions. Moral of the story: Don't rely on one dry fly to do it all. Carry several, and be equipped to meet a lot of different conditions on the stream. Those conditions can also include other hatches. The salmon fly hatch doesn't occur in a vacuum. On the Madison and Big Hole, caddisflies are often the answer when fish should be taking salmon flies, but aren't. Check in locally before you fish. Carry a full arsenal of flies. Going to other flies isn't necessarily a defeat, or cause for disappointment. You can even get a little smug about it, if you are the only successful angler on the stream. I recall one evening on Hat Creek in Northern California when squadrons of salmon flies were overhead. The nighthawks were putting on an aerial show, gorging themselves in mid-air. Below them, the trout were active on the surface. There were plenty of rises. Frustrated anglers were striking out - situation normal for Hat Creek. I finally waded to a point above a line of working fish, putting them down, as I knew I would. I had to find out what was going on. I put my face flat to the water, shipped some water over the top of my waders in the process, clenched my teeth, and looked upstream into the surface film. In the fading light I could make out a parade of baetis spinners. 'Six-X, size eighteen Brown Quill!' I shouted back to my client. He made the change, and started to connect. Be prepared to fish other hatches. Be observant. You may catch fish with other methods when salmon flies are not producing. When this happens, I feel elated. Meeting and beating a challenge is more fun than getting skunked because I wasn't prepared, or couldn't figure out what was going on, or was so locked into my expectations that I couldn't budge. Nymphs are always a possibility when fishing the salmon fly hatch. Don't leave home without 'em. Here again, I carry several. Some are big and heavy. Dredging can be the order of the day. Save for the heavy body, those flies should be sparse. Bulky materials tend to suspend a fly in the current. A dredging fly needs to sink rapidly. I think that's one reason an all-body and rubber-legged fly, such as George Anderson's George's Brown Rubberlegs, is so effective. Borrowing that concept and tying a big black all-body and rubber-legged salmon fly nymph will produce a fly that wiggles when it gets to the bottom. A more fully dressed pattern will buoy up in the current, and, when a dredger is called for, might be totally ineffective. Moderately weighted nymphs, fished in quiet water toward the bank, often work when nothing else will. Heavy flies strike out for this sort of fishing. Carry both. You'll need them to adapt to different situations. A favorite strategy of mine is one I borrowed years ago from two of my mentors: Cal Bird and Polly Rosborough. Both of these fly-tying pioneers, men who shaped our sport, developed wet salmon flies before they came up with dries. A big wet salmon fly imitation can yield regular hits from big fish when dries utterly fail. When Nathan Paul was guiding for me on the Bitterroot, he took a 'busman's holiday' to the nearby Big Hole to fish salmon flies. The hatch had just started. I talked to him about Cal and Polly. Nathan listened, as I came up with a big wet salmon fly pattern for him to try. Each material choice seemed perfect. The blend, and a couple of new tricks in assembling them, resulted in a well-integrated fly that I was genuinely excited about. I sent Nathan home to prepare for his trip - and couldn't wait to hear how he had done. That fly accounted for more and bigger fish than anything else his party of three fished that day - until he broke it off in the jaw of a brown that he swore would have scaled eight pounds. When he returned with this story, I marched around the shop, wailing and lamenting for several minutes. Like a fool, he fished and lost the prototype. He didn't tie any of his own to fish. Neither of us could remember the dressing. If you try to tie one for yourself, such a fly should be only slightly weighted, and should look like a drowned salmon fly. The wing should move. The legs should seem to struggle. The body should be the size and colors of the natural. Matching my "lost pattern" isn't as important as carrying a wet salmon fly with these characteristics in your salmon fly assortment. The biggest trout in the stream will often wait below a small eddy in a side current and take drowned salmon flies. It won't bother to break the surface. A wet salmon fly, fished alone or tied tandem off a dry salmon fly (use a big line) can produce when all else fails. It can also produce when all else is working, but yield better results. It is easy to strike out with the salmon fly hatch. All you have to do is hit it wrong. Hitting it right might mean hitting it close to right, and being ready for whatever comes. More...