The May long weekend saw me taking a last minute trip to the Lake Superior Park interior for four days of paddling and trout fishing. Work had been unusually busy, which both delayed and shortened my spring backcountry trip plans. What’s usually a month of planning for up to ten days in the backcountry was condensed into about two days of rushed planning, packing, and a 9.5-hour drive north to a hastily chosen destination. I forgot some food and gear at home and was very low on sleep, needing to adjust my plans once again at the eleventh hour.

I’ll save the details of this trip for another post, but aside from the horrendous black flies and difficult portages, it was a good time, with some excellent fishing, scenery and solitude.

Green Drake Hatch

Not long after returning from Lake Superior, I was surprised to find out that the Green Drake hatch on the Credit had started extra early this year. It hadn’t even been on my mind, but in retrospect, it makes complete sense with the short (i.e. non-existent) winter we had. This is also why the black flies were so bad on my trip, when I had tripped at the same time last year (further south even) without any bugs.

I spent two nights of the green drake hatch on the river, but only for about an hour before and after dark each night. There were good numbers of drakes, along with a few intermixed grey foxes and a very thick sulphur hatch on the second evening. On both nights, there was a flurry of rising fish, but with my limited time and fly selection (I wasn’t prepared for the hatch to come so early), I failed to bring any large fish to the net. Or, that’s my excuse anyway. I think they were mostly feeding on emerging duns, which I had no suitable presentations for.

Between the two nights, we managed just a few smaller fish. Still, it’s always great to catch the drake hatch, with both the insects and rising fish a wonder to behold. It really gets me fired up to get out there and catch the hatches more often.

Float Trip From Hell

Speaking of drakes, that brings me to last weekend’s events. It was our first float trip of the year on a large southern Ontario river. Running late as usual, I quickly dug my pontoon boat out of winter storage, assembled it and threw it and all my fly fishing gear in the truck before heading out for the roughly 2 hour drive to the river.

After dropping one vehicle off at the take-out point and getting the boats loaded up, we set off from our access point and were instantly reminded of the tranquility that floating down a scenic river in a pontoon boat brings.

We’ve done countless trips in our pontoons and have yet to experience any real mishaps with them. Though, I suppose there was that time I snapped my 6 weight sage rod, after getting it caught up in some weeds while padding a lake a few years ago. But I digress – these drifts are almost always without drama. Still, as innocent and peaceful as they can be, it’s wise to remember that there are still many things that can go wrong – as we were soon to be reminded.

We happily floated down river, stopping to fish some of the nicer pools along the way. Insect activity was fairly low, but it was still early. We saw small numbers of Grey Foxes and Stoneflies, which eventually gave way to a lot of caddis and an absolute smothering of Brown Drakes at the end of the night (more on that later).

Steve (the other Steve I was with, not me) missed a decent fish or two in the first pool. There weren’t any visible rising fish, other than maybe one or two at our last stop for the evening, where we’d fish until just past dark. We split the river here, fishing from opposite banks on a fairly wide section of river with many nice runs and pools in it.

Since the light was fading and there was some fairly turbulent water here, I decided to fish a large stonefly, which we’d seen a few of earlier. I figured, it’d be easier for both me and the fish to see. That turned out to be a good decision, as I hooked into a nice brown within the first couple minutes here. It pulled hard on my 6 weight, leading me to believe it was bigger than it really was. It still turned out to be a nice chunky brown, but not quite the tank I first imagined.

Soon after releasing this fish, I spotted a large beaver swimming upriver towards me. It seemed fairly territorial and had no real fear of me. At one point it disappeared only to re-surface about 6 feet in front of me, without an ounce of hesitation or surprise.

We continued fishing until dark, but insect activity was decreasing rapidly as the temperature plummeted and winds picked up. This is generally the sort of weather that spells the end of good fishing, as it’s usually the warmer evenings that have some hatches going at or slightly after dark. We were sure this wasn’t the case tonight with the change in weather, so headed back to our boats to finish the kilometer or more of river we had left to float, in the dark.

We know this section of river well and we’ve floated it countless times in the dark. The river was higher and more pushy than normal though. We donned our boat lights and started out with an uneventful float. As we approached some slower frog water, we surprisingly started to see a flurry of insect activity. There were lots of caddis, but more surprisingly, there were hordes of giant mayflies, which turned out to be Brown Drakes.

Just like the presence of Green Drakes on the Credit, I wasn’t expecting Brown Drakes so early (or on such a cool evening after dark), but again, all bets are off with this year’s weather patterns. It seems like almost every hatch on the rivers are overlapping at the same time this year. Anyway, there were LOTS of Brown Drakes on the water. If you aren’t familiar with them, they’re also a very large mayfly, close to the size of the Green Drakes (ranging between size 8-10).

Steve and I were like two kids in a candy store as we glanced at the water while slowly continuing to drift downriver, paying little attention to the rest of our surroundings. This is when things started to spiral out of control.

Strike One

We were trying to capture some of the drakes on the water – and as I reached forward while sitting on my pontoon seat, I managed to slip off and plunge into a fairly deep section of river. I went in up to my chest, filling my waist-high Patagonia waders and soaking my wallet and other items in my pockets. I scrambled to get back in the boat as I couldn’t really touch ground.

Thankfully, other than getting soaked and cold, no real harm came of this. I shook it off, gathered my composure and still managed to snag a drake from the surface to observe and photograph.

Strike Two

We sort of laughed off my swim and continued downriver. Not shortly after this though, I heard Steve yelling and turned around to see him trying to save his fly rod that had got caught in a tree while drifting too close to it. That’s no joke in the fast moving waters and in the dark, but thankfully, another disaster was averted as he saved the rod. Once again, a close call, but no harm was done.

Strike Three

After waiting for Steve to free his rod and catch back up, he quickly (and unintentionally) passed me. His pontoon is the frameless type – an Outcast Stealth Pro. Dare I say, that boat is his pride and joy. It’s also very fast compared to my steel-framed Outcast Fish Cat XL-IR. So, he tends to ride ahead of me as a result.

I was putting my phone away at this point, after using it to photograph the above brown drake (yes, it has a decent macro camera!). I’d stashed the phone in my top shirt pocket, then quickly grabbed the oars as the boat was turning sideways through some fairly fast moving water. As I rowed to right the boat, I heard a loud “ka-plunk“. It took me a second to register that sound, then began wondering what it could have been. I looked all around, wondering if perhaps I had something on my lap that fell in. My panic increased as I imagined something important (but still unsure what it could be) falling into the dark depths of the river. As I was looking down, I noticed the zipper of my top shirt pocket unzipped – and EMPTY!!

My heart sank, as I realized that my $1500 phone just sank to the bottom of the river, in the pitch dark! I was at least 50 meters downstream of where it would have fallen in already and I began to frantically back paddle, to no avail. The river was very fast in this spot and there was no way to make upstream progress. Not knowing what else to do as more distance continued to add up between me and the point of entry, I foolishly jumped off my boat – thankfully this time, into water that was shallow enough to stand in. I put my headlamp on high beam and began dragging my pontoon back upstream, in the middle of the river. Deep down I knew that I had almost no hope of finding my phone, which was at least 100 meters or more upstream, in some unknown location at the bottom of the river. I could only hope that the river depth would hold and that the phone would be sitting on the bottom in such a way that my headlamp’s light might reveal its reflection.

Miraculously, for the third time this evening, I was thrown a bone. I managed to walk upstream far enough, get lucky enough to have a near perfect lie of my phone and shine my light in just the right location to see it sitting at the bottom of the river in about three feet of water. I reached down to grab it, submerging the rest of my upper body that hadn’t yet been soaked from the previous dump. The phone (Pixel 7 Pro) is waterproof and other than a warning about water in the USB port, was back in hand, unscathed and working!

Three Strikes and You’re Out?

I thought that’s how the saying goes – three strikes and you’re out. Somehow, we were still going though. We certainly weren’t laughing, but we were floored by how many chances we’d been given thus far. The river seemed to be teaching us some real lessons, that’s for sure.

I could only imagine what Steve was thinking at this point. I’d been screaming, but he was way too far downstream to know what was going on. When I finally caught back up to him and explained the situation, he could only share in the disbelief in how we’d been so unlucky (and lucky) tonight.

We were only a couple bends way from our exit point now, which we managed to carefully float back to without any more mishaps. I was freezing and soaked, but had my phone. Steve had his rod. We were in one piece!

We followed our usual routine from here, which is to first carry my (heavier) boat up to my truck and load it in the back. Then we carried Steve’s lighter boat and loaded it on top of my boat, strapping both boats to the truck with some tie down straps. We’ve done this countless times over the last couple of years and have always felt confident about the setup. It’s only a few short, quiet kilometers of travel back to the start point where Steve’s truck is parked.

However, on this particular night, something felt different. That difference was obviously all of the events that transpired earlier, but it was also fairly windy. It felt like a storm was brewing and there was an ominous feeling in the air. So, I was extra careful and made sure the boats were tied down well and that we definitely had all our gear loaded up. I drove slower than usual this time, trying to keep an eye on the back of the truck, to make sure everything stayed put. Again, I don’t usually have a care in the world when doing this.

It was pitch dark and difficult to see through the back tinted glass. As we drove slowly on the quiet highway back to the access, I thought I heard something from the back. I asked Steve to check if everything looked alright back there. We both looked, but neither of us could really see well enough to verify. I had a bad feeling, so pulled the truck over onto the shoulder. I opened the back sliding window and that bad feeling started to get worse – almost panic again. I quickly got out of the truck to check the truck bed – and Steve’s boat was GONE! It literally was no longer in the back of the truck and we couldn’t see it on the road behind us!

I’m not sure what felt worse for me at this point – seeing my $1500 phone go missing, or seeing Steve’s even more expensive boat disappear from the back of my truck. Both were intense, that’s all I can say, but Steve’s boat probably took the cake. I think we both had visions of a car or truck running it over (which would have been bad for both parties!) or it being completely mangled. I jumped in the truck and quickly made my way back up the road, being careful to not hit it myself! I was pretty far back and we were lucky enough that no vehicles had driven by yet. We spotted the boat sitting almost perfectly on the shoulder of the road, off the road itself – albeit upside down. It looked to be in one piece and upon further inspection, indeed it was. There was a busted GoPro mount and some serious beating done to a Scotty arm mount – which seemed to have absorbed a lot of the impact and lived to tell the tale! One of the front corners of the boat also looked like it hit the road and had a pretty good scuff mark, but nothing through to the inflatable pontoons thankfully.

The strap that I’d tied the boat down with tore right off his boat. I guess a big gust of wind must have lifted the boat like a sail and just snapped it off instantly. Steve was either faking things really well, or just happy to see his boat was not completely trashed. Either way, he was taking it extremely well. We gathered his seat and a couple other things that had gone flying and ended up in the middle of the road. At one point, another truck pulled over after passing by to make sure everything was ok.

This was our fourth mishap of the night and they seemed to be getting progressively worse. Needless to say, we were extremely cautious from this point on. We got ourselves sorted, tied his boat down again (this time much more reliably) and I proceed to crawl the truck back to the access. We unwound and packed everything away before convincing each to be extremely cautious on the long ride home, given all that had unfolded today. Thankfully, we did indeed make it back home safe and sound – me still damp but with my phone – Steve with his boat in one piece but a little more “used”.

They say that the vast majority of car accidents happen within 10 miles of one’s home. I managed to travel 10 hours to the middle of the Lake Superior backcountry, paddle across frigid deep lakes, sleep in a hammock in bear country, portage with 150lb of gear through mud and over hills so large that they could easily be called mountains and come out with far less scrapes than this seemingly routine and simple float down a local southern Ontario river. Other than thanking my lucky stars and being grateful that things turned out the way they did, I’m going to take the lesson mother nature gave us to heart – which is to slow down, think twice (or thrice) and never get too comfortable or complacent.

The post Debacles After Dark appeared first on Caffeinated Fly Fisher.

Well, I finally got around to doing this and you can check out the full reference here. It includes some supporting information for each species, such as (fly) size, timing and description. I even linked to these photos from my Credit River Hatch Chart.

Most of the adult insects from the Credit River are present, but this reference will be fairly accurate for the same insects on other rivers throughout Ontario and other eastern provinces and states. The main differences will be timing and some slight colour and size variation. I’ll be adding more adults and nymphs (especially those that don’t occur on the Credit) in the near future.

With trout season just a couple weeks away in Ontario, I hope these will be useful for topping up your fly boxes!

The post Insect Reference Gallery appeared first on Caffeinated Fly Fisher.

It was another super enjoyable trip. Despite the overall slow fishing, I still managed to get into a couple nice trout. Check out the full trip report below.

July 2023: Dunlop Lake Loop
A 3 day loop through some Algoma country back lakes

The post Dunlop Lake Loop appeared first on Caffeinated Fly Fisher.

That said, there are still plenty of rivers and lakes with more than enough water, even in dry years such as this one – and that’s where I’ve spent most of this season. They aren’t particularly close by for me, so it does mean some extra driving. Sometimes I’ll try to make the most of my trips though and stay a night (or, a week, or more…).

On the longer trips, I’m in the back country with a canoe and tent (or hammock). I’ve got a new trolling setup for the fly rod this year with the new(ish) universal Scotty rod holder, which works well for pretty much any rod type – casting, spinning or fly rod. Of course, I’m not only trolling from the canoe. I’ll also cast (mostly streamers) when I’m not travelling or trying to locate fish – but it’s nice to keep a line in the water even while travelling.

Closer to home, trout fishing has been mostly done while drifting in the pontoon, on rivers with plenty of water and where covering ground is easy and quick.

I’ve got two Scotty fly rod holders on my pontoon (the red XL-IR above), but they’re used only for transporting my rods. I bring two with me, so that I can rig them up with a different setup and easily switch between them. That’s one great thing about pontoon boats – you can load basically everything you would ever need and not have to worry about carrying it on your back or hip.

I haven’t exactly had the most success with the browns this year, especially when it comes to big browns. A combination of timing and losing fish – but that’s how fishing goes, especially when learning new water. It’s about time to start thinking about getting out for some night fishing though – and that will surely change my luck. There’s also the hope of hitting a good late Hex hatch (Hexagenia Autrocaudata).

I’ve had a couple nice browns hooked up, only to be lost on a jump or poor hookup. Still, there have been plenty of 10-14 inchers, which are never a disappointment.

One recent trip float also netted a decent Rainbow Trout that put a nice bend in the 4 weight.

And let’s not forget the numerous brookies. Suffice it to say, while no trophies were caught this season (in the front country), the trout trifecta has been a common occurrence on outings. Can’t complain about that!

For hatches, Stoneflies have been in a great abundance this year. They began showing up earlier than normal and they’re still sticking around in good numbers.

You may have seen the top of these flies (as pictured above), or you’ve seen them fluttering over the river. But there’s a good chance you haven’t seen the bottom side of a golden stone, which is what the fish see from below! If you tie your own flies, that’s a pretty important part of the fly. So, here you are…

The other hatch that has been fairly abundant on some rivers this year (aside from the usual Isonychia) is the Brown Drake. This is a good sized mayfly that can bring some solid fish to the surface. It seemed to stick around for quite a long time this year. At least twice already, a good month after fishing them earlier in the season, we saw some size 10-12 mayflies in the air before dusk and mistakenly thought they were Isonychia. It wasn’t until catching one much later that we realized they were actually Brown Drakes. We thought for sure they’d be done by now. That might explain our snubs from some decent fish those evenings.

Hard to believe it’s the end of July already. There’s only two more months of trout season left, with just a couple major hatches to look forward to. Smallmouth bass will be getting some attention as well, along with at least one more late season backcountry trip for trout.

The post Mid Summer Update appeared first on Caffeinated Fly Fisher.

Some of the main trip highlights included some beautiful native Brook Trout and Lake Trout, no bugs (still too early for them!), great weather aside from some below freezing overnight lows, a couple injuries, taking a swim in some muck and some seriously challenging (and confusing) portages.

You can read the full trip report on the page linked below:

May 2023: Ranger Lake / Algoma Headwaters
A 9 day solo trip to an infrequently travelled northern Ontario canoe route

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On our local rivers, we were finally blessed with an abundance of water this spring. Those levels seem to be dropping fairly rapidly, but I have to imagine that there were lots of opportunities to entice some big old browns with big streamers or nymphs in those high waters.

As for myself, brookies are always at the top of my mind in spring, so I explored some small streams for them on opener. The water was cold and the fishing was slow, but a few small fish were caught nonetheless.

I did also manage to get out for steelhead with a couple buddies for the first time in many seasons. We fished a section of river close to home, on a particularly cold and rainy day. All I had to show for it was a small 10″ rainbow trout. I’ll blame it on the high water and wide river with difficult to reach pools (equipped only with my 9′ 6wt) – but, when it comes to steelhead, I’ll always find an excuse. My buddy, who happened to be float fishing, managed a pretty nice steelhead as well as an 18″ brown. Though they didn’t come to my net, it was nice to leave having seen and netted a least a few fish.

With the weather getting warmer and the month of June fast approaching, we’re almost upon some of the biggest and best hatches of the year! It’s time to top off the fly boxes with patterns that should have been tied during the winter months.

The post 2023 Trout Season Opener appeared first on Caffeinated Fly Fisher.

Early Season: Brookies & Backcountry

As is typical for me, opening week and most of May was spent pursuing Ontario’s jewel of the north: Brook Trout. This is the time of year when the water is the cold and high – a perfect combination for fishing brook trout. While there’s certainly a group of likeminded anglers out there with the same idea, the vast majority of them are either fishing the tail end of spring steelhead, or off to their favorite Brown Trout rivers.

I fished mostly smaller streams for brookies this year (not including Algonquin). In fact, I may not have made a single trip to the Credit for brookies all season, which I think is a first for me. Regardless what I’m chasing, I always go out of my way to escape the crowds – and I managed to do just that.

These first few small stream outings produced some unusually colorful little brookies for early season, which was a real treat. I especially enjoy the very different coloration from different streams and habitats – brookies, more than any other trout, seem to really adapt their colors to the water they’re living in. Fishing with a 2 or 3 weight, they’re always a joy to catch.

Aside from whetting my appetite with the aforementioned local brook trout outings, the majority of my time leading up to trout opener – and the several weeks after it – were actually taken up from an absurd amount of planning and preparation (and finally, travel) for my first solo Algonquin backcountry trip. This was also focused on Brook Trout, but it included close to 100 km of travel via canoe + portages over a period of 6 days.

I’ve already posted a full separate report on that trip, so check it out here if you’re in the mood for another long read. Below is one of the brookies from that trip.

Early to Mid Season: The Usual

After my mid-May Algonquin trip, I found myself back home just in time for some prime hatches – such as the Green Drakes and Grey Foxes. It’s been a tradition to hit the river almost every day during the green drake hatch. They tend to come and go in cycles – mostly whether and water dependent – so each new season is always a surprise (or potential let down).

The drakes are always intermixed with foxes as well, often quite heavily – so it’s wise to carry a selection of both files. There’s been several occasions where I was overly focused on fishing the larger green drakes (among a fairly thick hatch of them), only to be snubbed by some extremely selective trout. Often, upon switching to a Grey Fox, I’d end up hooking into a trout almost immediately.

The hatch was no bust this year – at least from a bug numbers perspective. They were in good numbers, especially throughout the more upper stretches of the Credit River.

As great as the fishing could be during this hatch, there is typically a very small window when the spinners (Coffin Flies – which are white and black as opposed to the yellow/green color of the duns) are falling – and this is when you want to be on the water.

I managed but a single larger brown during the drake hatches – with the rest of my fish being either smaller browns, or rainbows.

Most of my fish were caught on a new green drake spinner that I experimented with this year (using some materials that have sat almost entirely unused for years). My normal go-to is a foam body fly that floats like a cork – this one is pretty much the exact opposite. It seemed to do the trick, but getting it to float well is something of an accomplishment.

Back to those rainbows though… I’m not sure what’s going on with the Credit, but the number of rainbows is absolutely skyrocketing. I probably caught 2 rainbows for every brown or brookie this year. As my buddy rightly pointed out, there’s no way they’re naturally reproducing here (at least not in any numbers) – because neither of us have ever hooked a smaller / yearling rainbow. They all seem to be around the same size, so they’re likely escaping a fish farm, or being dumped there. The first rainbow below was actually caught on two consecutive nights – on the same fly.

Mid Season: Lots of Travel and Dry Flies

The end of the green drakes and foxes takes us into mid June – which is Isonychia and Stonefly season on many southern Ontario rivers. The Grand doesn’t really fall into the same bucket, being the tailwater that it is – it’s hatches are fairly different (when in doubt, it’s caddis time on the Grand).

With regards to the Isonychia, I came up with a fly pattern a few years ago that I often use to fish the Isonychia hatches (though, I fish it in other scenarios as well). I’m not even sure if it’s a natural/imitation or attractor at this point, as it sort of morphed into something in between. But one thing’s for sure – it’s been a real trophy getter for me. I’ve taken more large browns on this one dry fly than I have any other. My buddies have been asking for the recipe and perhaps I’ll post it up on my blog this year. I don’t consider it much of a secret, because you know how fly patterns go – 80% of their success comes down to your confidence in fishing them!

With some acceptable water levels still gracing most of our rivers, I began to diversify where I was fishing. It meant lots of long drives – often driving for hours for the same or less amount of time fishing. This paid off though, as these weeks in June saw some of my best resident brown trout fishing of the season. I wouldn’t call it spectacular, but persistence paid off with some memorable dry fly takes (most with the above mentioned fly).

This is around the time of year that I start night fishing with big mouse or streamers – something I’ve had a lot of success with in years past. This year was a different story though. I found myself hanging around later to cast dry flies and only managed a few real short night fishing stints.

I moved a few fish during these sessions, but failed to bring any large browns to the net this year – at least, from what I can recall. The closest I got was on the AuSable river in Michigan (more on that later).

That said, I did hook up with something quite interesting one evening during the end of June. I was stripping a Gurgler upstream through some faster water. It was pitch dark on this particular night, with no moon to speak of. At once point, my fly began to feel a bit heavy – at first I thought it was simply the faster water pulling the fly under, but eventually I could feel the weight during my casts. Assuming that I had simply hooked some weeds, I swung the fly close to take peek, and it definitely looked like there was a clump of weeds hanging off the fly. When I went to grab it, my hand jumped back as I realized what was really at the end of my leader.

If you fish southern Ontario rivers at or past dark, you’re well aware of just how many bats we have in the area. They come out in numbers, circling the river, munching on bugs. There has been many times when they’ve flown so close to my head that I’ve had to duck.

In this particular case however, I somehow managed to hook one! Not sure if it thought my fly was food while it was gliding through the air, or if it was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The barbless hook slipped right out and didn’t seem to have done too much damage, but unfortunately I think I drowned the thing. I was most likely dragging it underwater up through the current for at least a few retrieves. Hard to believe I was able to continue casting with this much extra weight at the end of my line… gotta love night fishing!

Early Summer: AuSable River Trip

The main theme for this summer was drought. What started as excellent water levels, quickly diminished down to some of the lowest levels I’ve ever seen in our rivers. As a result, for most of July, I simply took a break from fishing entirely.

At the end of July however, my wife and I took a week long trip to northern Michigan – Grayling specifically – where I’d spend a good amount of timing fishing the holy waters of the AuSable river. I’ve spent a significant amount of time on this river in years past, but hadn’t fished it for quite a while due to COVID restrictions.

I didn’t expect the fishing on the AuSable to be great at this time of year either. The water levels were also much lower than normal and there were no major hatches to speak of (aside from Tricos). Between the water level, tiny bugs and the fact that the holy waters section of the AuSable is extremely technical, hooking into a few small browns would be a real accomplishment.

In addition to the major Trico hatches each morning, there were occasionally some equally small BWO and the odd sporadic white miller hatch in the evening. Of course, small hatches aside, there was still the promise of hooking into a trophy brown after dark. This river is pretty much the birthplace of night fishing for big browns, after all.

The following are most of the flies I tied and fished on this trip (missing is the Tricos, which I already had a plentiful supply of). All caught trout, albeit not large trout – except the gurglers, which produced about a half dozen blow-ups by huge browns at night. Only one of those resulted in a hook-up, which unfortunately ended shortly thereafter when the crafty brown wrapped itself around a log at the bottom of the pool.

The Patriot Skunk was reserved for float days. I brought my Outcast Fish Cat pontoon along on this trip and used it on two separate occasions. It was my first time floating the AuSable and the fine folks at Gates AuSable fly shop gave me some ideas for some floats. Also worth mentioning is the new Douglas Sky G 6 weight I purchased from Gates, which can be seen in the second picture above. This was to replace the Orvis 6 weight that I broke on my Algonquin trip early in the season. I spent a good 30+ minutes casting about 8 different rods at the shop – and it was very obvious that the Sky G was the rod for me. It had the lightest swing weight (feel wise), yet I easily cast the tightest and furthest loops with it.

Anyway, the pontoon floats were an unbelievable amount of fun. I’ve had the boat for years, but had only used it on lakes and ponds up until now. It’s infinitely more enjoyable on moving water though – so much so, that this new way to cover water would continue back home in southern Ontario (more on that in the next section).

Late Summer: Floating to find Water

Back home after my trip, I was faced with the dilemma of dealing with the water levels that were continuing to drop on our home waters. Thankfully, water temperatures remained fairly good on most of the rivers, it was just finding water that was the difficult part.

Equipped with my new found joy of drifting in the pontoon, my buddy Steve and I (yes, the two Steves) decided to start putting our pontoons to use to gain access to some deeper and less fished water.

We got into some very deep and nice water on some of these floats. It took some time to learn the new water, but we found fish – even a few really nice fish. However, while both of us had visible strikes from some huge browns on a few different occasions, neither of us managed to bring the larger browns to the net. Steve lost a really nice brown after a good fight and I botched a couple big takes (or was snubbed at the last second).

We floated many nights during the hex hatch and it was really just that magical time of day (an hour or 30 minutes before dark) when the fishing really picked up. We worked on timing our floats to put is in the better spots at that time, but it means having to float down to the take out in the dark – which wasn’t too bad once we learned the water.

The duns (especially the males) are very dark and I often used the below simple tie to fish them, especially in faster moving water. I have some other patterns that are prettier and more believable when needed, but often this will get the job done, since trout can become fairly unselective when they’re actively feeding on this big bugs.

On one evening when the hexes were active, I had a huge brown blow up on my fly. It jumped clear out of the water and smacked itself down right on top of the fly – but missed or denied me at the last moment. It was a smaller rainbow (again) that took my hex a few casts later in the same pool.

Outside of trout, I once again failed to spend any significant time fishing smallmouth bass this year. It’s totally ironic that, growing up in an area teeming with bass and devoid of trout, I have to drive quite the distance to fishable bass water. I did experiment with a solo bass float on one occasion though – dropping my pontoon off at one access point, then driving to the next access point and biking back up to my boat. It was a bit of a workout in the blistering heat that accompanies summer bass, but it was totally doable.

Unfortunately, I hooked into a total of a single small bass that day – but saw some excellent new water.

Late Season: Back to the Backcountry

With hatches winding down and choices to make on how to spend the end of my trout season, I decided to spend it once again paddling for a week in the back country.

I had once again spent countless hours researching and scouring maps (and considering water levels), trying to make a decision on a late September backcountry brookie trip. I was also in the market for a new canoe and after considering some solo canoes as well as some smaller tandem prospector style canoes – I landed on a new Nova Craft Prospector 15 in Blue Steel. This canoe is not only plenty light for long portages (45 lbs), but much more versatile and stable for fishing than most of the solo boats. Though most of my trips would be solo, it gave me the option of bring along another person.

With new canoe in hand, I pieced together a 7 day trip that would avoid low water and hopefully get me into some brookies for the end of the season. I’ll be posting a separate update on that (to be linked here later) in the coming days.

I think that just about does it for this year’s trout season. Definitely an eventful one, with 13 days spent solo in the backcountry, 7 days in upper Michigan and lots of exploring new water and float trips. All that didn’t really equate to my most successful season of fishing – that is, if you count success by the number and size of trout caught – which I don’t.

There’s still some opportunity for fall Bass and Steelhead – let’s see if I take manage to take advantage of it. In the meantime, I’m already starting to dream up some trips for next year and hoping for a more water in 2023.

The post 2022 Trout Season Recap appeared first on Caffeinated Fly Fisher.

May 2022: Lake Lavieille / Dickson Loop
A 5 day trip to Big Crow Lake in the Algonquin backcountry

The post Early Season Backcountry Brookies appeared first on Caffeinated Fly Fisher.

Let me get right to the point:

The proposed Erin Wastewater Treatment Plant is threatening to drastically impact the health of the native Brook Trout populations on the West Credit River.

This is not a new subject, but it is one that is continuing to gain traction and importance. Before attempting to give my own opinion, I highly suggest you check out the Coalition for the West Credit River. This group of concerned organizations, including Trout Unlimited, Izaak Walton Fly Fishing Club, Ontario Streams and more, have put together a wealth of factual information on the subject.

Coalition for the West Credit River: http://cwcr.ca/

If you fish the Credit River at all (and given that you’re reading my blog, I assume you do), then you know that the Credit River contains some of the healthiest remaining Brook Trout populations in southern Ontario. The West Credit River specifically, which begins at its headwaters in Erin and flows downstream to eventually meet the main river at the popular Forks of the Credit, is easily the healthiest among the entire watershed – and a major source of spawning. While this section is fairly small and cannot support a large amount of fishing pressure, I can attest to the abundant and healthy number of Brook Trout that call it home.

I want to be clear here though: while catch and release fly fishing is my ultimate pastime and the subject of this blog, this issue is far greater than simply fishing. Being extremely sensitive to water temperature and quality, Brook Trout serve as a classic indicator of aquatic ecosystem health. Brook Trout have also been wild and native to these waters for generations. The section of river directly below the proposed discharge site is a major spawning area for Brook Trout. The volume and temperature of water that would be discharged from this new plant would push already increasing river temperatures above the safe level, inhibiting successful reproduction and leading the ultimate demise of this fragile Brook Trout population.

Anglers who have fished the river for years have all witnessed the slow degradation of Credit River trout and mayfly populations over the last few decades. Most attribute this decline to poor management practices, but also to natural phenomenon and urban sprawl upstream towards the headwaters of the main branch, near Orangeville. Still, there exist healthy populations of Brook Trout above and below the Cataract that are in dire need of proper management.

These effects have been less apparent on the West Credit River to date, thanks to much more controlled growth (in the past) between Erin and Belfountain. The proposed Erin Wastewater Treatment Plant threatens to irreversibly damage and even wipe out these native fish and lead to massive expansion and growth along this section of river. Without proper planning, control, or simply prevention, the West Credit will become another casualty to the already long list of once thriving native trout rivers in Ontario.

It all sounds very grim – and it is. But don’t just take my word for it, as I am merely echoing the concerns of so many other experts, groups and organizations. Please research the matter yourself, form your own opinion and make your voice heard.

The post Concern for the West Credit River appeared first on Caffeinated Fly Fisher.

It’s been almost 10 months since our family vacation to Florida last July. It was a trip largely planned around my daughter’s visit to Disney. We’d spend a few days on the Atlantic side, where my kids would enjoy the big waves and breeze of the ocean, followed by a week on the Gulf side, relaxing on the calmer white sandy beaches. Fishing wasn’t even a consideration at the time. I was clueless to saltwater fly fishing… I’d heard about it and seen pictures of it, but being a resident trout purist from Canada, it’s not really something I ever thought about pursuing.

That is, until about a week before our trip, when some last minute reading prompted me to throw my fly rod in the back of the truck, just in case. I also packed a tying vice and a small selection of tying material, again, just in case. What little research I did left me with images of Tarpon and Snook (along with a few other species) ingrained in my mind. Embarrassingly, the only thing I really knew about these species, was that they were often targeted by fly anglers. I was surprised to read that Tarpon were apparently plentiful on the Gulf, in the Tampa area (which was just south of where we would be staying near the end of our trip). In addition to that, our timing seemed to align with the tail end of Tarpon season.

To be honest, the thought of catching any fish on a fly rod in a great big ocean was overwhelming and seemed hopeless – at least without a lot more information than I had thus far found online. So a couple days before leaving and during the drive up (while my wife shared some of the driving), I started emailing some guides in the area, trying to get an idea of what I could expect or where I could start.

I ended up having a conversation with a fly guide out of St. Petersburg: Captain Russ Shirley. He was a pretty open and honest guy. He gave me some ideas of what I might expect both going out on a day trip with him, as well as casting from the beaches near my resort. He had reservations about going for Tarpon, considering I’d never fished saltwater before, nor had I fished for anything even close to as  large as the Tarpon in the area (around 100 lbs!). He was also upfront with the fact that there was no guarantee of even seeing and/or casting to a Tarpon at this time of year, never mind hooking up with or landing one.

Fast forward a week and a half and I’m enjoying the hot sun and gulf beaches with my wife and kids. I ended up booking a half day with Captain Russ and we agreed to start off casting for smaller species with an 8 weight. If that went well, we would try my hand at Tarpon for a bit. I didn’t tell my guide, but I was seriously intimidated by the idea of casting an accurate tight loop double haul with a 12 weight rod for Tarpon! Sure, I thought I was a pretty good caster back home, with 2-6 weight rods for trout. But casting a 12 weight for 100 lb fish was something entirely different. I was half hoping that the first part of the day would convince my guide that I wasn’t up to the task, so I could spare myself the embarrassment and instead be content catching some Sea Trout, Redfish and other small(er) species.

Weather forecasts were spotty for most of the week and there was a tropical-storm-turning-hurricane threat to boot. The weather held off though and I was able to wet my line in the salt for the first time from the beaches in front of my resort. The evening before venturing out, I tied up a few simple flies on the kitchen table of our condo: some DT Specials, Deceivers and Crystal Schminnows.

My first day casting from shore was pleasant. I was out super early, which I thought would be best both from a fishing standpoint and also to avoid the beach goers. I walked slowly barefoot along the sand, searching for a spot to cast my fly. What I found though, was that I had absolutely no idea where to start. Everything looked the same. So eventually I stepped into the surf and began casting aimlessly out into the gulf, stripping my fly back with varying retrieves. I was sort of surprised at how little I could see… I was expecting crystal clear water, but I couldn’t see a single fish and found it difficult to even see my fly. Somehow, I still managed to land a couple fish that morning.

My very first fish caught in the salt, was barely a fish at all. It was a tiny mutant-like fish, apparently called a Lizardfish. I was almost scared to touch the ugly little thing.

About half an hour later, I felt a real tug and ended up landing a second unfamiliar (at the time) fish, this one larger in size – both body and teeth. This time I landed a more respectable Spanish Mackerel. I’ve caught lots of Pike back home and they have teeth too… but the fact that the only two fish I’d caught so far had what looked like razor sharp teeth, was kinda freaking me out.

It was still before 9 am and I thought… wow… I’m actually not bad at this. I must be doing something right. So I kept doing what I was doing: casting aimlessly out into the gulf and hoping something would eat my fly on the way back. After another ten minutes, I landed my last fish of the day. Another small unfamiliar fish, one that seemed refreshingly harmless compared to the last two.

Well, I could be wrong in identifying this fish – but I’m pretty sure it’s a leather jack. Turns out, I was dead wrong about this little guy being more innocent than the previous two fish. Apparently they have spines on top that are capable of producing an extremely painful sting. As one website describes it: “Many who’ve been stung report that the pain far exceeds a sting from a catfish or even a stingray“. Alright, now I’m really freaked out to touch anything I catch in the gulf…

I continued casting for a couple more hours without as much as another bite. I called it a day once the beach traffic picked up and figured the sun was too high in the sky. Given my overall lack of strategy and feeling of cluelessness, I was quite sure that my earlier catches were pure luck. I’d come out hoping to be sight fishing to Snook, but instead I was casting aimlessly with nothing but a wish. Still, I was happy and proud to have caught that Mackerel.

The next morning I met my guide at a marina in St. Petersburg. It was a perfect morning and as we left the docks and discussed the day to come, we were greeted by an Egret looking to hitch a ride.

Captain Russ wanted to know my goals for the day – which I responded were simply to learn a little and catch a couple fish. He ensured me that the catching part was going to happen and the learning part definitely happened as well! Our first stop in the gulf looked just like every other part of the gulf, that is until we were on top of it and I realized why so many fish would look for food and refuge there: a nice weed bed and some shallower water. On our way, I had discussed my successes and failures of the prior morning and he shared some useful knowledge and tips that might help me the next time I was out.

I was set up with a 8 weight rod, 12-15 lb tippet (from what I remember) and a Clouser in about size 2. We had some discussions about my prior fly fishing experience, and given his past guiding experience with trout anglers, he seemed slightly concerned about my abilities to cast a tight loop with a heavier rod at distance – which would be necessary if we were to try for Tarpon later. After a couple casts, he was surprisingly happy with my casting ability and declared that we would have no problems. He then instructed me where to cast and to begin stripping. Before I could get the fly back to the boat (on my first real cast), I hooked up with my first fish of the day: a small Sea Trout.

While not in any way related to the trout I’m used to catching, it somehow felt appropriate. I instantly felt some relief and with a shot of confidence, I was feeling good about the day ahead. Fortunately, AND unfortunately, this would actually be the last fish I landed. On my very next cast, which was only my second of the day, as I stripped the small clouser with confidence, the gulf water boiled and disappeared around my fly – almost as if it had been sucked down in some kind of vortex or whirlpool. It was a Tarpon… and a big ass Tarpon at that!! I hooked a damn 100 lb Tarpon on my second cast, with an 8 weight, 15 lb leader and size 2 clouser…

I wasn’t the only one surprised… my guide couldn’t believe it. He pulled up anchor, rushed behind the wheel and turned on the engine. He expected it would be a quick fight, as the gear I was using was wildly under powered (not to mention, he didn’t yet have a chance to brief me on how to fight or land a Tarpon). What was about to ensue was by far the most intense and exhausting fight that I’m sure I’ll ever experience.

It didn’t take long for the sliver king to begin its acrobatics. Somehow, to both my guide’s and my own surprise, I survived the first leap with leader and rod intact. I can’t recall how many times the fish leaped after that, but in was in the realm of 10 to 12. And somehow, I kept the fish on for every one of those.

To make things even more interesting, after the first couple jumps, a second Tarpon began following the one on the end of my line. Every time my fish came up for air, its “friend” also came up for air beside it. It was very bizarre and exciting at the same time. My guide, in all the years he’s been doing this, said he’s never seen anything like it.

Quite literally, the fish dragged us around for over 2 hours. In retrospect, any normal Tarpon fight should not last anywhere near this long. However, I simply didn’t have the power to horse the beast to the boat. We got close a couple times, but it used its size and strength to keep its distance and I could do nothing to prevent it from continuing to come up for air – and to continue to find the energy to leap afterwards.

My forearms and hands were numb, I gulped back water for quick breaks to keep hydrated. But I didn’t care, I wanted nothing more than to land this fish.

In kindness to me and seeing that the fish was still healthy, we tried our best to land the it, or at least to get a leader touch. Near the end of the fight, Captain Russ was on his knees at the front of the boat and mere inches away from grabbing the leader, when it turned for yet another run. At that point, I realized it was now or never and applied as much force as I could to try and turn it back around. Finally, the leader gave up and snapped.

As sad as it was to lose the fish, I was more than ready to let it go. While getting to touch it would have been an added benefit, we got to see it up close and it was an experience I’ll never forget. If I’m ever to land one of these (as big) on an 8 weight again, I’ll most certainly just break it off. Hopefully though, if I land another, it will be on a 12 weight.

The next morning, with my arms still sore, I got up early again to stalk the beaches and hope to continue my success. Captain Russ had mentioned that sight fishing for Snook was easiest when the sun was high, since it would shine down into the water making the bottom (and fish on it) much more visible. He mentioned I may not even see the fish either, but that I’d be looking for subtle moving shadows.

Despite his advice, I still wanted to get out early and make the most of my time. Try as I might, I could not see anything early in the morning, other than a few schools of fish swimming close to the surface every once in a while. I managed to hook another small Jack species this way, which I think is a Blue runner. From what I read, this one actually was harmless for once.

Again, I headed in once the beach got busy. Which meant, I didn’t really get a chance to test out the “high sun” strategy. Later that day though, while at the beach swimming with my kids, I finally did manage to see a few fish – swimming surprisingly close to us. For some of them, I could make out the fish itself, but for others I was only alerted of them by their shadow – just as my guide had told me.

On our last day at the resort, I went out to give it a final try. As usual, early morning was slow and I couldn’t make anything out, so I had to resort to blind casting. Again, as the sun got higher, the beach got busier. However, this time I decided to stick it out and continued searching for whatever empty beach I could find between the sun bathers and swimmers. Instead of focusing on casting and fishing, I instead focused on trying to spot fish. I tried to focus on what I had read – a small ridge of sand very close to shore and another ridge a bit further back than that one.

I was fairly sure I was starting to see fish. As I walked along the shore, most of the time I thought I saw a shadow, it would quickly disappear as I walked closer to it. Eventually I found a strip of beach, about 100 feet wide almost directly across my from the resort, which was almost devoid of people. Aside from swimmers on both sides of this strip, and beach walkers strolling by, I was able to walk this section back and forth for a good hour or two during the busiest part of the day. With rod in hand and a DT Special tied on, I located my first shadow on this stretch, approached stealthily, crouched down and cast in front of it. A couple strips later, smash!

Snook on, landed and released! It was super rewarding and I felt like I may have finally figured it out. Over the next couple hours I was able to reproduce that success and spot and hook into several more. None were exceptionally large (for Snook, I guess), although they put up an excellent fight on my 8 weight.

Those couple hours were some of the most fun I’ve had fly fishing. It was very comparable for me to casting dry flies to big rising trout – which, let’s face it… is not exactly a regular opportunity, even if it’s what comes to mind first when we think of fly fishing. The weirdest part about it was being able to do it on a busy beach, full of tourists, sometimes with kids swimming and splashing only a few meters away.

I consider myself extremely lucky to have experienced so much luck and success my first time fly fishing saltwater, especially considering this was really just a Florida family vacation and fishing was not intended to be part of it. I owe my wife and kids much of the thanks, since they had to put up with me sneaking out those mornings and sometimes not coming back until almost lunch time!

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