Category Archives: Fly Pattern

Mashed flat or swallowed whole, the fate of the legless frog

It’s a systematic exploitation of every living thing in the watershed, and in pursuit of large fish – it’s best to leave no stone unturned.

I’m on the second “alpha” prototype – struggling with how to make the head wider without altering the physics or causing some instability in construction. “Wider” has always been the nemesis of fly tying as hook shanks are narrow and bodies have to be bulked up using benign materials; you can’t use bulky materials that float if you’re designing a sinking fly, and vice versa.

They’re constantly underfoot so I’ll assume they’re eaten with the same enthusiasm shown by Herons and Egrets. The ATV crowd mashes a million of them at every river crossing – guts, fins, eyeballs, and stunned tadpoles tumble down into the deep water routinely.

 

I’m fiddling with the details of retrieve, silhouette and weight. I’d describe the naturals as a muted brown streak that instantly buries itself when its flight is complete. I pile on the lead, fling it at the far bank, count two – then give it a yard long pull.

One large bass pulled the line out of my hands on the take – so he thought it looked good. A half dozen smaller bass ate it so there was some small consensus. Pikeminnow haven’t touched it yet, but with only a couple outings that’s not proof of much.

Tied on the above kirbed Togen Scud hook, and weighted to ride upside down; shank filled with 2 Amp fuse wire, broadened with chenille tied in on the sides, and cover the result with “Sable” boa yarn (mixed brown and gold).

Rain is in the forecast which will cut into the ATV hatch, I may sneak out between showers this weekend for more conclusive testing.

Who says Pikeminnow can’t jump

It’s one of those luxuries we’ve all enjoyed, parking within proximity to a thriving business and leisurely gearing up as all the fishermen within either burst into tears, or shake their fist at you.

Yesterday was Veteran’s Day, and I had a pocket full of experimentals to try out – overcast and clouds present but high enough not to threaten me with much moisture.

“Fatty” intercepted the second Matuka with a vengeance, I had to marvel at his grit, exactly what is a six inch fish going to do with a four inch minnow? It’s sitting down to a five foot long hero sandwich; you may be really hungry – but outside of dribbling meat and tomato slices down your shirt front – what’s the point?

The “transitional crayfish” were well received. I’d mixed a strand of Orange and a strand of Olive on the LSO – giving it some color reminiscent of the red crawdads. As red hasn’t claimed a victim, the  question, “is it the color or the size?” remains unanswered.

I hit a half dozen nice fish on the Olive and Orange mixture, implying the color is acceptable.

This suggests the red version should have no issue, but it’s size may be offputting.

I’d brought a Magnum Little Stinking Olive, tied on the same hook the red uses – both flies are identical in size, and only colors differ.

The Magnum had the identical reception as it’s smaller cousin. I tied the dry bug on and flipped it at a rock on the far bank, it sank smartly despite my removing half the lead. I gave it one twitch and five pounds of Pikeminnow leaps out of the water with the Magnum down its gut.

 

I guess “size does matter” – as I’ve fished through this stretch a dozen times without laying eyes on this monster. Pikeminnow are long thin fish, and this fellow is about five pounds, and nearly 27″ long.

With only a single Giant Olive, I fish really carefully from then on.

The stretch below yielded another Pikeminnow of nearly the same size and a half dozen nice bass – making me wonder whether the two species aren’t fighting over the darn crawdads.

I didn’t have the courage to try the big red, husbanding the sole Olive flavor until the rain interrupted both me and the fellow shaking his fist from the gravel conveyer up above.

He must’ve been shouting encouragement – or bemoaning his lack of vacation day.

It’s fast, durable, light sensitive, and fish love them

It’s more of a preoccupation with efficiency, cheap materials, fast tying, and desirable physics.

Fast sinking flies allow me to cast at the target, and with low water and the increase in algae – it usually means I’m dragging less debris when the fly enters the “eat” zone. “Keeling” the fly so the point rides upwards gives me a slim chance at avoiding the bottom – giving the fly the ability to make contact without being hung or gathering debris and increasing the size of the fly.

 

Me, I just like the color. It’s consistent with my preference for blended dubbing – with multiple component colors present to present fish whatever color he likes best. These are 10/0 Mauve beads with an oily iridescent sheen, presenting multiple colors to a hungry fish, and hopefully inducing him to grab.

I was using these much of yesterday – one of those flies you can tie two dozen an hour; perfect for gifting pals and aggressive casting, where adorning a tree branch means you’re dry eyed and vengeful.

 

I call them “Jelly Bellies” as they’ve got that squishy-translucent, worm look to them. It’s a nice searching pattern with plenty of color – and reacts differently to direct sunlight or indirect lighting. The photo at top is indirect indoor lights, and the above is direct sunlight, note the pronounced rose tint to the glass. The foreground three are tied with a few fibers of aurora blaze Angelina over the top, adding some flash akin to Gary Lafontaine’s Sparkle Pupa.

You could go the “green” route and claim they’re lead free, or please your PETA buddies because everything on the fly is synthetic, but the real value is banging out 3-4 dozen while watching listening to the pundits describe the earthbound spiral of your retirement fund.

I scored these at Joann’s Fabrics, about a buck for a lifetime supply, and trout love them.

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I was weak and went with the Variant instead

“Former” commercial fly tiers have all types of foibles, scars, and nervous tics – it comes from being hunched over the vice staring at dust motes, dim lighting, and tiny hooks.

I have a “love-hate” relationship with the noble Elk Hair Caddis; it’s a great fly, buoyant as hell, sturdy of construction, elegant, simple, and effective. It has earned its rightful place as one of my favorite dry flies – and continues to earn my wrath as a fly tyer.

Genetic hackles are the culprit, you get some elegant, long, size 16 hackle – with enough density and barbules to really make a well dressed fly – and you palmer it up the Elk Hair’s shank burning up 2/3’rds of all those great chicken genes – you’re left with not enough hackle to tie a second fly, and too much to throw away.

Cue nervous tic.

Even though we’re retired – we still hate waste. It’s the reason we have 2000 extra size 22 hooks and only two dozen 16’s, or why our neck drawer has 84 immaculate ginger capes – and all the brown and grizzly is picked over – with even the moths chanting in protest.

Every season I suffer bouts of “post traumatic customer syndrome” – the sweaty night terrors resulting from tiny flies ordered in massive quantities, with me already behind schedule. 

Chuck Stranahan solved my Elk Hair dilemma with an introduction to the Caddis Variant. It’s as simple, as effective, and uses less hackle – something us former tying whores can really appreciate.

Dun Caddis Variant

Use the fingernail to press the wing flat against the hook, in doing so it’ll flair the wing horizontally into a fan covering nearly 90 degrees. 3 turns of oversized hackle completes the pattern. A standard genetic neck hackle can tie two of them, making them easy on the budget as well.

Change the colors to suit whichever critter dominates your local water. It’s an elegant sparse dressing that floats like a cork due to the large surface area, for me it’s a wonderful change of pace from tying the Elk Hair Caddis.

Chuck Stranahan is featured prominently in my “night terrors” as he was the proprietor of Hat Creek Anglers back in the day. Every conversation started with “I need 100 dozen #16’s …” then we’d talk about the small sizes…

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The Daytripper is tieing for ’08 and I haven’t even tasted Eggnog yet

I figured I was safe, neatly tucked away on the bottom left margin of the Daytripper’s Blog was the “Tying for 2008” entry. Like all great procrastinators I assumed he wouldn’t dare increment it until February, minimum.

Now he’s ahead of us and we’re playing “catch up.”

Brownlining is hell on flies, nymphs mostly, and my nymph stash has been getting augmented regularly. It’s part and parcel of the smallmouth fishing on the Little Stinking – I tie a dozen and leave six on tree limbs trying for that tight cast against the underbrush. Naturally the one cast that gets in close is traveling at 150 mph and blows hell out of whatever I thought lived there..

The concussion alone teaches them fish a lesson.

Prodded by Alex, I cracked open the dry fly box to see what’s missing and found a lot of work for this winter. I should be able to stay abreast of Daytripper, as all of my small dries, rough water caddis, and cripples have been sorely used.

Pale Morning Dun Cripple (Hat Creek, Fall River)I was introduced to Bob Quigley’s “cripples” years ago when he lived near Fall River, one of those rare fly tiers whose creations are both graceful and practical, flies that fool fish rather than fishermen.

The theory is simple, tie the rear half of the fly in the colors of the nymph, and the front half in the colors of the adult. Grease the front portion only, and the fly will lay “arse down” at an angle simulating an emerger.

I use them interchangeably with the adult dry fly, they work well as the mature imitation in hatch conditions, and in many cases, work better. Any traditional mayfly dry can be adapted to the “cripple” style, just by adding the appropriate nymph coloration.

I had heard that the idea came when he was eyeballing a semi-destroyed Humpy, that may be myth, it was the prevailing story of the time.

Emerger patterns can be frustrating to fish, many rely on the bug being partially sunken, while effective as an imitation it’s difficult to see. Cripple wings are cocked forward at a 45 degree angle intentionally, as the rear portion sinks down into the surface film, the wing rises to the vertical position allowing the angler to retain the traditional dry fly profile, enhancing the flies visibility.

This’ll give you something to keep pace with the Daytripper, he’s got seven done – where’s yours?

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