A Deschutes River redside rainbow trout that lurked off a little-fished bank Wednesday afternoon was a gaudy reward for nutso behavior during the salmonfly and golden stonefly hatch.
Every May brings the same sad, squalid story.
I find myself gazing down a steep slope covered with sliding rocks, spiny weeds, wild roses and slippery mud. There is a good chance that a cranky rattlesnake or two lurks along this perilous path to Oregon's Deschutes River. I know that a bruise or two definitely lurks on each journey up and down the steep banks. I know that I will end the day filthy and in pain.
The smart, sensible part of my brain whispers to me: "Don't go down there! What if you break a leg or a rattler sinks a fang or two in your arm or face?" I'm not telling tall tales here. I was crawling up a Deschutes River bank two years ago and came across a coiled -- yet silent -- rattler two feet away from my nose. The snake took a swing just as I jumped backwards and tumbled back into the river. The snake missed, but I had a big bruise on my backside for weeks.
The Deschutes' population of rattlers are in a cranky mood in May -- just when millions of golden stonefly and salmonfly nymphs lumber out of the water, split the skin along their armored backs and emerge as finger-long winged insects. These big bugs -- with their long, veined wings that look tailor-made for a Tiffany stained-glass lampshade -- rattle around in the streamside trees, have group sex -- and often fall into the water.
These bugs -- and the big trout that gobble them-- lure me down those steep, scary banks.
On sunny, warmish days, the bugs -- especially the egg-laden females -- take flight over the water and careen around like rickety helicopters. Salmonflies and golden stoneflies can fly, but they don't fly with skill or grace. The egg clusters on the tips of the female bugs look like dabs of blackberry jam. The females try to dip the eggs into the water, but they usually end up flopping and fluttering on the surface.
On some days, hundreds or thousands of the big bugs fly or flop onto the water, motorboat around in circles or scramble for shore. These are the biggest, meatiest bugs of the year, and you'd think that the wild redside rainbows would eagerly hammer a fly that imitates all this chaos.
But they don't -- at least most of the time.
There are several reasons for this. First, most of the river's big trout started eating the big nymphs as they clambered over the underwater rock gardens on their migration to the bank. Many of these nymphs are as long and thick as a man's pinky finger, so the fish get full really fast.
Second, the fish do eat the adult bugs -- especially if the wind is blowing a steady supply of thrashing insects into the water. But, once again, the fish fill up fast. Lucky anglers who show up at the river at the moment when the big bugs first emerge and flop into the water wallow in epic Trout-O-Rama. But show up at that same spot a few hours later, and the fishing will be slow, as the trout are stuffed.
Finally, hordes of human anglers -- sometimes it seems as though there are as many anglers as big bugs -- arrive at the river, tie on a giant catastrophes of dry flies and flog the water to a froth. The big trout -- who have seen all this before -- get spooky. I've seen big rainbows nudge fake and real flies with their noses. They eat the real flies and sidle away from the fakes. Sometimes they reject the real bugs. It's crazy.
My partner, Heather, was fishing her first-ever salmonfly hatch a few years ago, and she found a big trout that nudged -- but did not eat -- her Rubber-Legged Norm Woods Special on every cast.
Heather shouted "Jesus!" with almost every trouty nudge. She sounded like a television preacher high on faith, coffee and visions of cash donations.
Yet, there are reasons to hit the river during Salmonfly Madness.
A Deschutes River salmonfly lumbers over streamside grass on Wednesday afternoon. The blurry couple in the background are lust-ridden golden stoneflies. Golden stoneflies are slightly smaller than salmonflies.
This is one of the few hatches of the year that lure the big trout out of the deep, rocky holes. The big fish often lurk near the bank and quietly tip up to sip in a fluttering snack. What's more, you can -- and should -- fish your big salmonfly and golden stonefly imitation on a heavy tippet. I use 1x, which is 13-pound-test line. The fish aren't tippet shy during this hatch, and the heavy leader gives you an excellent shot at actually landing a big fish.
I've hooked big Deschutes trout on 5X tippet during a blanket caddis or pale morning dun hatch, and the fish quickly ran into deep, fast water and break off.
But that big tippet lets you wade or walk upstream and pop short, accurate casts along the banks, under the trees and into the current slots between boulders. It's kind of like fishing poppers for smallmouth bass. You don't expect a hit on every cast, but it's heart-rattling when it finally happens. And, sooner or later, it will happen -- if you fish the nutso water.
My friends John and Amy Hazel, who own the Deschutes Angler fly shop in the trout-crazed town of Maupin, tell all their customers to fish the edgy water off the steep, scary banks during Salmonfly Madness. John and Amy guide and fish the river almost every day. But I see few anglers following their advice. I suspect those anglers are smart and wise -- but I also suspect they don't know what they're missing.
It helps to fish a stretch of river a few days after the hatch has arrived. This move puts you on the water when the trout start getting hungry again -- and plenty of big bugs are still scuttling, flying and flopping around. Not every fish locks onto the big chunky bugs, but plenty of big fish are eager for another shot at big, dumb protein. It pays to fish on weekdays.
Lots of anglers believe that the trout prefer to eat the slightly smaller golden stoneflies. I'm not entirely sure about that, but I usually tie a golden stonefly imitation onto my leader -- unless I see a trout chowing down on the bigger salmonflies.
So, there is a way to fish this Hatch of Madness, but it requires a little insanity on your part. Yup, that's where the steep, dangerous slopes to little-pestered fish come into my life.
I found myself on such a slope Wednesday afternoon. Rainshowers and sunny spells took their turns in the Warm Springs to Trout Creek drift, and the downpours made the dirt slopes slick and slippery.
I had crawled, slid and stumbled up and down several other banks on this day, and I hadn't hooked a fish yet. Not every steep bank brings trout to the fly -- but I usually hurt myself in some way or another. I had even crawled under the overhanging trees -- thick with spider webs and scuttling salmonflies -- only to see skittery trout reject my flies. But the fish were at least coming up to take a look.
The sensible part of my brain worked hard to keep the dumb, trout-crazed part of my brain off that new slope. But I realized I'd always wonder what lurked down there -- among the partially submerged rocks, overhanging tree brances and emerging stands of poison oak.
My backside was smarting from a fall -- that mud and wet grass was slippery -- when I arrived at the bank. I looked up the slope at the trail, and it was like peering up from the bottom of a well. But then I looked at bank and saw beauty -- in the form of a partially fallen tree leaning over the current just upstream of a cluster of partially submerged rocks and derelict driftwood.
I made a few casts to the roiled water downstream of the boulders -- no rises.
I made a few casts to the outside slots of the boulders -- no rises.
I cast to the current slot between the steep, rocky bank and a boulder. The water lit up with a flash, and a big head poked out of the water and sucked down my fly. I set the hook, leaned on the rod to keep the fish from swimming upstream into a maze of driftwood and hoped for the best.
That fish rolled into the deep, fast current in the middle of the river. I saw my backing twice before a thick, gleaming, humpbacked Deschutes River rainbow came to my hand. And, for a few moments, insanity, pain and dirt was rewarded.
