Nearing Season’s End

In the darkness of a late October morning, I arise from sleeping to check my outdoor thermometer.  17 degrees, Fahrenheit.  Not bad for a cloudless night; the temperature could easily be much colder.  It feels like a morning to fish.

I proceed to dress myself warmly, load my gear in the car, and head for Yellowstone Park’s Madison River.  The fishing season will close in just a few days, and today seems like a good time to try the meadow water below Madison Junction.  Dawn breaks as I drive along the river.  Ragged layers of mist hover over the currents at well-known spots like Nine Mile, Talus Slope and the Crook Pool.  No other fishermen are out this early, leaving me the option of fishing any water I like.

Mentally reconfirming my choice of the upper meadows, I pull into the parking turnout and see I’ll have no competition here, except possibly from a bull elk and his harem of cows grazing across the river.  As I don my waders and string my spey rod the bull bugles, announcing with a shrill whistle that this is his terrain, and that these cows belong to him.  He’ll get no quarrel from me; I plan to stay on the near bank.

I walk to the head of the Meadow Hole, strip line from my reel and angle a double-spey cast across the river.  My fly pattern is a large soft hackle and I fish it across and down, swinging just beneath the surface.  Between casts I take a step or two downstream, intent on covering the entire run in a series of concentric fly swings.  Though a deeply fished fly will almost always take more trout, to me that doesn’t matter.  I find an unweighted fly more pleasurable to fish.  And no matter what the outcome is, I’ll be content.

The traditional salmon and steelhead tactic I’m employing is very appropriate for the Madison, owing to an autumn run of rainbow and brown trout from Montana’s Hebgen Lake.  These fish are migrating upstream from the lake in preparation for spawning, and are similar to steelhead, salmon and sea-run browns in their behavior and choice of lies.

The brown trout will spawn in early winter (November and December), after the Park closes for the year.  Though the rainbows run upriver concurrently, they will overwinter in the river, spawning in the spring as is customary for their species.  Exactly why they exhibit this odd behavior isn’t known, but running up in the fall makes them an important part of the fishery.

This fishery is hardly a secret.  For decades, die-hard anglers from all over the world have been drawn here, anxious for a chance at a big brown and the acrobatic rainbows.  But there are no guarantees when you’re fishing for pre-spawning fish, and a willingness to accept their moody behavior is essential to enjoying the fishing.  Some days you catch them, others you don’t.

While this may not be particularly reliable (or comfortable) fishing, there is still a compelling element about it.  For me the major attraction is simply the rare beauty of the fish.  I know of no others as pretty as these.  They’re like flawless gems—perfectly proportioned, uniquely cut, each spectacular in their individual spawning dress.  When reviving caught fish I study them closely, enjoying the subtle details of their shape and colors, reveling in their wildness.  Should I happen to lose one of these Madison fish before getting an up-close look, I take it hard, suffering real feelings of loss and disappointment.  They truly are a special gift.

Halfway through fishing the Meadow Hole, in the area of a known lie, my fly swing ends prematurely.  Though I feel nothing, instinctively I raise the rod.  The line quickly comes tight and a fish is on.  It’s the beginning of a determined fight.  This is a trout in prime condition, having amassed an impressive reservoir of strength from its summer in Hebgen Lake.  As it races around the pool, I quietly hope my fly holds.

The fish’s effort is game, peppered with two late jumps during which it reveals itself as a brown trout.  But things work out my way, and soon I realize I’m going to win this battle.

As I draw the fish in, I see that it’s a fine male, slightly above average size, perhaps twenty inches and three pounds.  From head to tail he’s covered in shades of gold and copper, a perfect backdrop for the brilliant red spots that grow thick near his tail.

I cradle the fish in my hands, free the hook, and await his recovery in the icy water.  I can’t stop looking at him.  Inside me I feel a need to sear this experience, this particular fish, into memory.  At this point in the season you never know which trout will be your last, and I can’t take any chances.  I rely on memories of fishing to help sustain me through the winter, and in this part of Montana winters are long.

Eventually the brown regains strength and with a sharp twist of the tail he bolts for deeper water.  He’s going to be okay.  I think to myself, I’m going to be okay, too.  For if this is my last fish of the year—my last memory—then I’m a lucky angler, indeed.

Dan Daufel fishes the Meadow Hole on an October morning.

A Madison brown trout.

A fall-run rainbow caught by Dave Pearson.

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Man Fishing

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Madison River Baetis

It’s no secret that Montana’s Madison River is one of the world’s great trout streams.  It holds large numbers of good trout, and in the stretches below Quake Lake its shallow, rocky character lends itself perfectly to fly fishing.  All the major fly hatches are present and abundant.  Whether it’s stoneflies, caddisflies, mayflies, or midges, the Madison has multiple species of each that provide delightful seasonal angling opportunities.  A classic example are Baetis mayflies.  Though they aren’t among the river’s largest flies, Baetis are certainly among the most important.

Various Baetis species can be found emerging on the Madison every month from March through November, but their peak hatching activity occurs in April and May, August, and October.  Among these periods the best is—by far—October.  Baetis emerge on an everyday basis and in prodigious numbers.  And since there is little other insect activity this time of year, the fish pay even more attention to these tiny mayflies than they otherwise might.  The most important Baetis species on the Madison is Baetis tricaudatus.

Baetis tricaudatus is a particularly interesting fly in that it is a size #18 to #20 when it emerges in the spring months, size #20 during its August hatches, and size #22-#24 in October (many Baetis species have several generations per year).  Even though it’s the same species hatching, the different generations vary in size as a function of the nymphs spending different amounts of time maturing.  It might seem strange that such a tiny fly can be so important on a big, brawling river like the Madison, but this is indeed the case.  Trout congregate in the slower, calmer pockets of the river most every October afternoon to sip emerging Baetis nymphs and duns.  For rising trout aficionados this is an unparalleled opportunity for surface fishing with small dry flies and nymphs.

Even though Baetis are emerging regularly throughout October, certain days clearly experience heavier hatches than others.  Weather seems to be the overriding factor in determining the intensity of a hatch.  Good hatches might occur in any weather condition, but the best hatches always take place under overcast skies.  Add in rain or snow (either is possible—and likely—in October), and you are all but guaranteed several hours of Baetis emergence and rising trout.  Afternoon is the time to be on the water; between 1:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. is typically when the most action takes place.  Windless days are ideal for fishing, but rare.

My favored rod for this fishing is a slow action, nine foot, four weight.  This kind of rod allows for excellent line control, will cast easily a very short line, and protects the 6x tippets that are necessary to fool the larger fish.  I like the four weight line for its inherent delicacy.  While it’s possible to use heavier lines, a four weight also allows me to fish a short leader—no more than ten feet—without sacrificing delicacy.  A leader of this length also handles better in the wind and in the small pockets the fish typically lie in.

Casting distances in this fishing are short, or should be, provided you make a good approach.  Ten to fifteen foot casts are common; twenty-five feet is a long cast.  Here is where many amateur fishermen make a critical mistake.  They stay too far back from the fish, making unnecessarily long (and often inaccurate) casts over conflicting currents.  A dragging fly quickly results, killing their chances and possibly spooking the fish.

I like to get as close to the fish as possible to eliminate dealing with conflicting currents.  This means keeping low during the approach (I spend a lot of time kneeling).  I also favor approaching the fish from directly downstream.  This allows for a straight upstream cast, keeping my line in a single current lane and (mostly) alleviating drag problems.  I find that when I’m comfortable with my casting position I’m sometimes casting only my leader.  To be sure, an approach like this requires stealth, but it makes the actual fishing much easier.

Casting short distances helps not only in getting a good drift, but also in keeping track of the fly, whether visually (dry fly) or by estimating its position (nymph in the film).  When natural flies are plentiful and multiple fish are feeding side by side, keeping close tabs on your fly is essential to determining when it is taken.  Too, short casts are more accurate and more easily controlled when wind becomes an issue.

Fly choice is a personal decision.  Many different Baetis patterns will work, but I almost always begin with a Sparkle Dun.  This emerging dun imitation floats well, is visible, and takes trout whether they are feeding on the duns or the emerging nymphs.  It has been an effective Baetis imitation for me for over twenty-five years.  Certain trout (usually larger ones) will often feed exclusively on Baetis nymphs.  These fish require the use of a nymph in the film, and I use one when confronted with these difficult fish.

I think most serious anglers would find delight in fishing an autumn Baetis hatch on the Madison.  It’s a real treat to see the tiny mayflies sailing on the currents, the river pockets full of rising trout, and few other fishermen around.  Even when the weather is at its worst and I know I’m going to suffer, one glimpse at the rising trout is all it takes to convince me to string my rod and give it a go.

May we all be so lucky to get that chance.

A diminutive Baetis mayfly.

A porpoising rainbow takes a Baetis nymph in the film.

Rowan Nyman fishes to some shallow water Baetis feeders.

A Madison rainbow that fell to a Baetis Sparkle Dun.  This fish’s dark coloration is typical of October.

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Late October in the Madison Valley

I wish you could see the rain and sleet here in the Madison Valley this morning. A low cloud ceiling prevents us from seeing the snow on the mountain tops but I know it is there having seen a white coating on the peaks last night at 8500 feet.

The past 2 afternoons have found me on the river from 2-4pm. My log entry for both days begins with: “some of the best rises of fish I have seen this year”. I checked enteries from the past few years which seem to indicate the same…great late season dry fly fishing during midge and Baetis times. 

I must admit, the past 2 days we have seen perfect afternoon weather conditions for both Baetis and midges. Calm winds, overcast-humid and in the 50’s with lots of insects bringing up a nice rise of fish. I usually find midges are the first insect of the day on the water and the trout love to take impaired adult midges as they attempt to escape their pupal shucks and become trapped in the surface film. During these times, usually from noon on, trout will readily take a Griffith’s Gnat Emerger or Zelon Midge. Around 3pm I note the rise forms change from gentle sips as larger trout key on midges, to a more aggressive rise as the fish begin to chase nymphs and emergers as well as impaired Baetis duns. During midge times the fish might barely wrinkle the surface as they casusully take the adults trapped in their shucks. When switching to emerging and impaired mayfly duns I note a more pronounced rise form with noses and heads coming out or even a sidways move on the part of the fish as it moves a few inches to take a struggling dun in the sureface film. This is where a Baetis Knocked down imitaiton works its magic as it can not only imitate the impaired Baetis dun attempting to escape its shuck, it too can imitate a midge trapped in its shuck and unable to escape. By 3:30pm the trout lock onto the Baetis duns and a Sparkle Dun or Baetis Cripple are deadly.

Today, with cold-damp condtions, the midge activity will be curtailed but Baetis should emerge in huge numbers. Their time will come late in the day, probably not until 4pm, but the fish will lock on the duns and stay on them until 6pm…I will be there!

This morning I plan on tying up some large fall soft hackles to fish this coming week on the park’s section of the Madison. I have been working on a couple new patterns using gray phased ruffed grouse with a hare’s mask body and a bit of weight to bring it down in the deep pools above Bakers Hole. I will get you a report.

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A Balanced Life

While fishing last week, Neil Brown took a moment to contemplate the effects of the universal solvent on Yellowstone Park’s geology.

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