A Deschutes River redsides with a Chubby Chernobyl it found floating under an out-of-the-way tree
Going fishing on Memorial Day weekend is always a tricky decision.
Crowds are a problem everywhere -- and you can expect a double-whammy of fellow anglers when the salmonflies and golden stones are careening around Oregon's Deschutes River.
Yet, all the anglers are there for a reason: the big bugs attract big fish. Salmonflies and golden stones bring big redsides rainbow trout -- some of them the dry fly trout of the year or a lifetime -- to the shallow water along the banks for a few days.
So, we've got the perfect storm of an epic hatch, big fish and lots of people. Sounds like a perfect vision of Hell on the Water -- unless nature steps in. That's what happened this year. A massive storm rolled into Oregon from the Pacific Ocean, shouldered over the Cascade Range and poured torrents of rain onto the usually dry Deschutes River Canyon.
Fly anglers are a tough lot, but a couple days of heavy rains will send most tent-dwellers scuttling back home -- and the RV campers soon get tired of the sticky mud. The rain also bollixes up the big bugs, as they tend to stay in the trees, tall grass and brush during cold, wet weather. The best fishing happens on warm days, which get the big bugs thinking about sex -- and flopping into the river to lay eggs.
Big, two-inch long bugs splashing into the Deschutes is a trout version of a Thanksgiving Day feast. There is more food than you can eat, but you don't stop eating until you feel sick.
So, I found myself pushing the Subaru Outback over the Mount Hood pass last weekend, even as a steady parade of rained-out campers shot by in the opposite direction. I was swimming against the tide, mostly because lots of water was falling from the sky. It felt like the right thing to do.
Heather came along, and she brought Berkeley, our fishing fanactic Labrador Retriver.
Strangely, the rain tapered off when we arrived at the Deschutes, but we found nice trout eagerly rising to a caddis hatch. Yes, Deschutes trout love a warm rain, and they'll happily switch to smaller bugs if that's all there is to eat. Humans will pout if the Thanksgiving turkey suddenly vanishes, but trout will eat little bugs if the big bugs don't show up. Trout are kind of like teenagers -- pizza is always good, even if turkey with all the trimmings was on the printed menu.
We found a long, rocky bank that doesn't get a lot of fishing pressure. Why? Well, it's kind of a long walk from the car, and the steep banks down to the water are tough to navigate. Did I mention the rattlesnakes and poison oak?
Trout that live in easy-to-reach spots get graduate-level educations in angler behavior, fly design and cynicism during the salmonfly and golden stone season. But the trout that live under that dinky alder tree just off that steep bank -- you know, the one with the loose rocks, thistles and grabby blackberry vines -- are still in kindergarten. The banks hiding behind walls of trees, weeds, brush and spider webs are where the silly fish hang out.
We crept down one bank and rigged up. Berkeley stared at the water and wagged his tail, which is always a good sign. This is the kind of fishing where you take turns casting. This is fun, as you have two rods, which lets you quickly show different flies to the fish. Deschutes trout will ease away if you give them a second looks at a fly refused one cast earlier. The person who isn't casting at the moment is often changing the fly on the second rod.
John and Amy Hazel, of the Deschutes Angler fly shop in Maupin, will provide more Deschutes trout tips here.
Heather quickly hooked and lost a monster fish that tipped and sipped on a size 16 X-Caddis. Lots of little bugs -- caddis, Pale Morning Dun mayflies and craneflies -- drifted by on the current. The trout ignored the big salmonflies and golden stone flies. Why? None of the big bugs were on the water.
Then the sky cleared some more, the day warmed up, a light upstream breeze blew -- and big bugs flapped and lurched through the air. I peered under an overhanging alder tree and saw a golden stone blunder off a branch and fall into the water. A big trout snout poked up and chowed down.
Heather cast a Norm Woods Special under the tree -- it took a few tries with a sidearm cast to get it in the right drift, which was right along the bank while still floating under the tree canopy. Once the Norm Woods was in the right spot, the trout exploded on the fly and Heather was hooked up.
"It's a lot like fishing grasshoppers," she said as the fish shouldered into the main current and ripped line off the reel in long, lunging runs.
And that's how it went all weekend. The water fell from the sky, more people went home and we found fishing rising to small bugs. From time to time, the sky cleared, and the big bugs came out. That's when we headed to the jungle and looked for big heads.
It was never Trout-O-Rama, and we lost more fish than we landed and released. But we wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else on a mostly soggy Memorial Day weekend.
