Fishing for Murray Cod

Early in 2019 I was fortunate enough to be fishing in Australia.  I was invited by Dean Cooper, who is head of Tourism Australia’s sport fishing division to fish in Tasmania ahead of the World Championships (another story) and then to go to northern New South Wales to fish for Murray Cod.  I had no idea as to what to expect of the Murray Cod, though, having a subscription for “Flylife”, in my opinion, the best fishing magazine around, I took out some back copies and gained a little insight.

I met Dean at Sydney airport and then travelled up to Armidale on the same flight as him.  We were met from the plane by Josh Hutchins and his fellow guide Micky.  Their truck was already loaded to the roof – and beyond….but we just about squeezed our luggage and ourselves into it.  We got know to each other during the journey to the creeks we were to fish – an interesting trip as it took us through a few villages that had been burnt out by the recent and still ongoing bush fires.

Eventually we reached our destination and visited the farmhouse of the creek owner, but found that he was away acting as a volunteer fire fighter, so we went and dropped our luggage at a most comfortable set of cabins and then went to town to buy the groceries and beers and have a salad and coffee.

On our return we went back to the farmhouse and met Michael and Kay, a lovely couple who own the land for a fair way around.  They were so welcoming – I found that Josh had been there before doing a video shoot with my client and friend Jeremy Wade.  Michael had done the general guiding through his creeks for that, and so the catch up chat was interesting.  Eventually we set off to do some fishing, and in spite of such hot temperatures and cloudless skies, we actually found water.  It amazed me that these creeks had water in at all, never mind that there was plenty; the water wasn’t as hot as I would have imagined either.  On getting out of the truck to prepare for fishing, the first thing that struck me was the fantastic smell of the bush!  Smells, I think, are evocative for fishing memories;  I certainly get transported back to distant venues when I recognise certain smells.

So, we set up our gear.  Nine-weight rods, floating line, sturdy tippets – about twenty pounds.  I was told to put on a fairly large black lure – similar to what I might opt for with pike fishing.  Then, basically, fish the pool in front of you – the creeks being separated by rocks, narrow channels and dry sections.  Vary retrieve, and fish the fly right to the edge.  I was being guided by Micky, a very encouraging fellow, and not too long after starting we both noticed a swirl as I was lifting to re-cast. I did the lift in a roll-cast type of way as I probably would for pike, hanging the fly at rod-length out, but Micky suggested that I keep the rod tip down and really fish out the fly to the bank under my feet.

 

 

Three casts later I had a solid hit and soon had my first Murray Cod.  The fish was stunningly beautiful and I was amazed to hear from Micky that this fish was only small.  It seems that in this system they grow to well over a metre in length and can be over one hundred pounds!  I believe that most British anglers wouldn’t give a rocky, tree-lined, semi-stagnant and weedy pool such as this a second glance.  But, I was now well and truly eager to get amongst some bigger fellows.

A smaller fish followed, but, I had by now been instructed to change to a popper, and I this had induced several other slashes, though no more hook-ups.  One or two of the swirls were from decent fish.  It seems that this is a common feature, and in fact ties in with a lot of popper fishing that I have tried, both for pike and for saltwater fish…lots of action, but not so many hook-ups!

We headed “downstream” to try another pool, but, after giving it a fair go, a thick mist descended and as with most fishing that curtailed our sport for the evening.  We headed back to Michael’s farm house and had supper.  Little did I realise, having been so engrossed in the fishing that it was now well past midnight.

So, it was after one before I managed to drag myself to bed, and just four hours later was up again to have an early morning assault on the cod.  We had coffee and a bite at Michael’s and set off.  Tackling up in the Australian bush as the sun rises , with the sounds and smells of the surroundings is a far cry from the trout fishing I am used to.  I could easily have walked around looking at the variety of birds through my binocular, or just sat there listening to Australian bush awake, but, I was there to try to catch Murray cod, and so, with the same popper as the night before, I set to it.

Action was instant, with slashes, hits and swirls.  We even caught a few fish.  Everyone was having a go apart from Michael, who had taken to walking along with me and chatting.  Michael had spent his life fishing these creeks.  He is mostly a spin or bait fisherman and used to, like most locals, take the cod for food.  They are very tasty.  But, as the numbers of them declined he realised that they were in trouble.  In many parts of Australia, this iconic fish is critically endangered.  In this area though, largely due to Michael’s work, the fish are making a recovery.  We had a great time walking along chatting and I learnt so much about the ways of rural Australia.  Michael would have forgotten more about the wildlife that the grew up with than most people know.  It was a great education for me.

We fished through the morning, moving a few times to different pools, and steadily caught fish.  Once the sun was high, the others changed to sub-surface lures, but, as my popper was producing plenty of action and enough fish to keep me more than happy, I saw no reason to drop down.

By about one o’clock, it was announced by Josh that we would look for a decent pool for a swim and to have lunch next to.  No worries about crocs in this part of Aussie, so in we went.  It was a delight, though, getting back out and having to walk on the rocks with bare-feet was quite a trial as they were so hot.  Michael produced a griddle and soon had a fire going, and in no time some wonderful steak sandwiches were being devoured.  The rest all took it easy…I guess the “mad Englishman” couldn’t resist the midday sun, so, I went exploring and photographing wildlife and just taking it all in.  After all, when will I be able to return?

We fished on until we were exhausted, hungry, and certainly ready for an ale or two.  Somehow or another I managed to catch either twelve or thirteen Murray cod, but had action almost the whole day on the same popper.  The others caught fish but in smaller numbers.  Beginner’s luck…..

Another fine farmhouse meal followed, along with some most desirable ale.  Bed was so welcome!

Next day was almost an anti-climax as the fish just didn’t seem to respond too much.  Sure, we all caught some fish, with Josh managing a really nice one that had attempted to “eat” a fish that Dean was playing, but, generally things were much more quiet.  I had one chance at a really large fish, but, sadly, I didn’t get a good enough cast at it.  There were few opportunities for sight-fishing, though in many creeks it seems that this is the way that the guides operate.

Josh and Micky certainly needed a large truck – I mentioned earlier how loaded it was when we met them at the airport.  I discovered that apart from huge amounts of photographic gear, fishing gear and personal stuff, they also had an inflatable boat, and a drone.  The drone was used for both aerial shots and to explore further afield than we could drive.  Interesting!  We fished from the boat next day – both Dean and I went out with Micky, whilst Josh fished from the shore.  Dean and I both had a nice fish from the boat, and several other hits that didn’t hook up.  But, the action was not as compelling as I would have expected.

So concluded a fantastic couple of days on Moredun Creeks.  Should you find yourself in New South Wales, and fancy a different sort of fishing, Michael is your man.  His email address is as follows:

[email protected]

Back to the reality of the drive back to the airport and on to Sydney.  I was met there by my good old pal Bob Bell, and that led to a few more fishy adventures, both in the Snowies and then on the coast with Steve Bishop and his family.  I may get to tell some tales about that sometime….

Cuba 2020

On Thursday 5th March eight clients/friends boarded a flight from Gatwick to Havana, much earlier than usual, but this was a great deal, as it would mean that our arrival would enable the travel to our fishing venue would be carried out in daylight for a change, and we would be able to get a snack and beer on our arrival.  The flight was about ten hours, and we approached Havana from a most unusual angle, but soon were on the ground.

Customs checks as ever were slow and even those who travelled in the more expensive parts of the plane had a long wait.  It was interesting that on our arrival in the customs hall, we were all “shot” by a thermal imaging camera, which we guessed, was to do with having our temperatures checked in case we arrived in Cuba with Covid-19.

Eventually I was through to baggage reclaim, which took another age, but I met several of my group at this stage, and then out into the meeting hall.  There to greet us were Felipe and Lazaro.  It was fantastic to see our Cuban friends again.  We all visited the money exchange kiosks (I actually asked Mike to exchange mine as I went off to buy some beers for the trip to Caleton).

This was when I experienced my first surprise of the holiday.  No beer! Due to the embargo on trade in Cuba, fuel was in short supply and so, although there was plenty of beer being brewed, transport to distribute it was difficult.  I had to settle on a few colas, orange drinks and water.  We stopped several times on the way to Caleton, but, it was ages into the journey before we found a bar that had beer!

Our arrival at Casa Nova Vida was most welcome, and we were treated like family, which I feel I am.  The group were introduced, shown to their rooms and a while later returned to the veranda for a decent cold beer and snack.  A reasonably early night was taken and in no time, we were back at the tables for breakfast.

The group comprised two newcomers – Larry and Kevin, three first time returners – John, Steve and Martyn, and regulars, Simon, Mike and Andrew.  I must say that as the week unfolded I cannot remember any cross words between any of them and organisation was really easy.  To say they were a pleasure to work with is an understatement!

All fished Las Salinas first day and every angler had a great start to the trip.  Simon recorded a huge number of fish, whilst everyone else had at least five or more bonefish.  The rum was good that first fishing evening….

Day two was building towards the wind we were to get on day three and so catches were down somewhat, but, our first tarpon of the trip was caught by John.  Kevin also managed to land a decent barracuda.

We all struggled on day three, and at least two of the bonefish boats ended up just trolling to see what could be persuaded to take a fly.  The guys who went to the river had a real struggle too, and only Simon managed to land a tarpon, though other were hooked.

Day four saw Steve and Martyn on the river, where Steve had a tarpon of around one hundred pounds and Martyn a baby one.  John had two more tarpon out on the reef.  The rest of the group had a mixture of success, but Andrew was “top dog” that day.

On the day off I took a few of the group to a lovely garden in the village where the owner puts out feeders for the birds.  It is quite some paradise for many species.  We were treated to great views of the smallest bird in the world – the Bee Hummingbird along with many other species endemic to this part of Cuba.

In the afternoon we ordered taxis to take us to the limestone swimming hole – the one connected to the sea via underground river, where several of the group swam, and then we hopped over the road and did some snorkelling in the sea.  This area is quite famous for its scuba-diving.  It was a great way to spend a day off, and I am sure that all of the group really managed to recharge batteries!

The remaining days flew past as they always do on these trips.  The fishing remained excellent and although one or two of the group didn’t catch vast numbers, the quality of the fish was fantastic.  I am certain that everyone in the group topped six pounds for bonefish, and there were some splendid “other” species caught, including some large jacks and snappers, barracuda and tarpon.

A great ten days came to an end and I escorted the group to the airport for their flight home and awaited the new group, with Juan Carlos as my “assistant”.  It was not a quiet wait!

 

The second group contained Crooky, back for his tenth trip, James, on his second with me to fish Las Salinas, Steve, his first with me but second to this venue, and Rob, who had not visited this area before.  The drop-off and pick-up worked really well and soon we were heading back to the new Lodge at Playa Larga.  The rooms were great – I shared one with Crooky, and the others had singles.  They were spacious, had good air-conditioning, decent fridge and were generally well equipped.  Though, as with many places in Cuba, the showers were the let down.

I filled the group in about how fishing had been on the drive, and on arrival at the lodge, Felipe and Lazaro met us to go for a meal.  The lads were just about able to stay awake for this, but took little to persuade them to an early night.

So, the second group set off on their first day fully prepared for plenty of fish and duly responded with loads!  Steve, as he carried on every day had a “rake” of fish, Rob plenty and Crooky and James enough to enjoy their days.  This was the pattern for the six days fishing.  Overall the fishing side of this second week was fantastic, but, the Lodge presented problems, which worsened as the time went on.  Showers became almost useless and we were all finding going out to a different restaurant each night a bit tiring, so, when on the fourth day we arrived back to find NO water in the resort at all, we were not in the least disappointed to find that Felipe was happy to transfer us to Casa Nova Vida and our “family” – Noraida, Alejandro, Raul and Islene.  We enjoyed the home comforts much more with our “family” in Cuba.

This second group managed to catch an average of ten bonefish a day, and, could have caught many more had all of the group fished as hard as Steve.  The fishing was really the best in all of the years that I have fished there and all (of both groups) had a great experience.  The boats are fantastic and the guides are really wonderful.  It is also good to see that Felipe and the company are introducing some “new blood”.  Gavi worked with us many of the days and was fantastic.  The anglers who went with him really enjoyed his manner and general way of guiding.  He is undoubtedly a great asset to Las Salinas.  Not to detract from the regulars, whom we love… Juan Carlos, Julio, Machito, Lazaro, Manolo, Roberto and of course Felipe.

I didn’t go to the river in the whole of the two sessions, and none of the second group were especially interested in that aspect.  So, I cannot comment too much.  But, I will say that the size of tarpon running this year was huge – in some ways too large for the gear that we take, expecting to catch “baby” tarpon.

Thanks to all the Cuban people who made our stay so great – the guides, the hotel workers, chefs, cooks, drivers, bar people and organisers.  Lazaro, as manager in the resort was as before a delight to work with.

Thanks also to Aime who organises it all from Miami.

I am so hopeful that this Coronavirus clears up in order to allow us a trip to Cuba again next year.  I have a provisional booking for March 2021.  Fingers crossed!

Montana 2019 (part four – Madison, football Hyalite Lake)

So our final fishing day in this region was a lovely one – warmer and not too windy.  We set off to Quake Lake a little earlier.  On arrival the lake was like glass and we were so optimistic that we would be there for a good hatch.  This just didn’t happen for some reason.  We started out with hoppers but, in my eyes they didn’t look right on a flat calm surface so I changed immediately.  Kev called that he was into a fish – of course – on a hopper!  I went walking and only saw one fish, though it was a good sized rainbow.  I managed to get a decent cast and it took my fly.  It ran strongly and I could not stop it.  It went into a pile of weeds/logjam and I ended having to pull for a break.  Back with the others, Kev had managed another fish and missed a couple, whilst Doug had hooked a big fish but had his knot unfurl whilst playing it.

The plan had always been to go to the river for the afternoon so off we went.  First spot we’d been advised to try was Three Dollar Bridge.  From the main road, the river looked amazing and we were full of anticipation as we took the side road to the parking area.   It took us all of two seconds to realise this was not our spot as there were fourteen trucks parked there and anglers in the river both up and down stream.  Back onto the min road, and the next pull-in was not so busy.  The river looked good.  So, we set up there.  We changed leaders and tied new flies.  In the meantime I wandered over to chat to a young couple who were setting up an inflatable boat in order to drift the river. They both said the river was in great condition and I should expect plenty of fish with at least one of 20 inches.  Small flies would be good – and they proceeded to show me a size 10 Adams – I haven’t any of those larger than a fourteen!

I set up with my favoured Mladen Sedge and had a beautiful rainbow trout on a about my third or fourth speculative cast.  What a great start and enough to give us encouragement.  I made sure Doug had the right fly as he followed me up river.  Next fish I had was a smaller brownie and then I went some way before any more action.  I missed a couple of very fast takes – the river is extremely fast flowing, but it was a lovely spot to fish so I was loving it.  I then saw a fish rise further out than I had been concentrating on.  I lengthened my line and dropped the fly  ahead of where I thought the fish to be.  The take was instant and I didn’t need to set the hook as the fish did it for me.  It went right out into the current in one mad rush and I then wished I had used stronger than 5X tippet!  The fish was solid – whether in weed or a log I had no idea so I climbed out of the water and walked up the river to try to get beyond some trees on my bank and get the flyline above a couple of boulders.  Now, from an upstream position I managed to get some movement and soon the fish was in clear water.  The fight was then soon over, though, with no net, it was a hard task getting the fish to hand as the current in close was rapid.  The fish was spot on 20 inches….just as the young ones had suggested we should catch!

I didn’t need any more fish so walked back to see how Doug was going.  This was a bit more difficult for Doug and he struggled to get a decent line out and control its fast drift back towards him.  But he carried on manfully.

When I went back up to fish some more I was a bit put out when another angler came down the bank and proceeded to fish – about ten metres in front of me.  I was even more put out when on his fifth or sixth cast he had a decent fish on the end, though I think he lost it.  I made a noise so that he knew that I was there, and to be fair he apologised saying he hadn’t seen me.  But when he moved he only actually went another ten yards further up and started fishing again.  I went to chat with him.  He was from California and was dressed as if he was in the Arctic – he said he was freezing – we were all in shirt sleeves!  He showed me his rig – it was a similar set up to “drop-shotting” as he had a small length of nylon with about five or six split shot attached and his fly on a paternoster.  He was with his father who shortly after I moved on up caught a fish that he landed.  They seemed to pick a spot and fish it for an hour without moving.  Maybe they know better than we do.

I caught several more fish including two reasonable sized cutthroats from one small slack.  But, I had a serious encounter with a large rainbow in a small side stream just before we headed off.  The stream was shallow – no more than eighteen inches deep and it screamed fish – except that I caught nothing and saw nothing until I reached the very head of it.  The take was unmissable and the fight was long and hard.  The rainbow was stunning, and I struggled to keep it from leaving the side stream and heading off in the big flow into rapids below.  As the fish came to my hand, it flipped off the hook.  A shame that I didn’t get a chance to photograph it as it was probably the best looking fish of the trip!  But there is a photograph in my head.  I don’t remember having a harder fight from any fish I have caught!  Kev and Doug joined me and fished a few small streams but, they were ready to pack up.  Kev had caught some really good whitefish so was happy.  Doug admitted it too tough for him!

When we left the river we stopped at a bar that seemed pretty popular.  It was such a quirky place!

Kev and Doug outside :”Happy Hour Bar”

It was called “Happy Hour Bar” and inside there were photographs adorning the walls – some of rather scantily clad young ladies, and in another part a load of bare backsides. Also, spread out on the rafters were various bits of clothing!  It was also the venue, so it seemed for the local guides as a group of them were sitting chatting in an alcove.  We had a couple of beers, and I had to have a chat with the guides…

Josh was the head guide and was really happy to chat – after he’d finished his meeting.  They all worked at a camp on the other side of Hebgen Lake, and they were just three days from the end of their season.  They only start it in June – occasional they can get a few days in during May, and finish come end of September – so much shorter than ours, so they need to “make hay…” as they say.  But, with tipping as generous as it is in U.S.A. they do ok.  I am always amazed about tipping – it is something that causes a lot of issues when we fish in Cuba.  As a nation we just don’t do it!  And, find it hard to understand why others do.

Back at camp we had a lovely fire to cook our lamb steaks on.  This was a real treat for our last wilderness night.

We packed up camp in the morning and drove to Bozeman, setting up at the luxurious Hot Springs Campsite.  We certainly made use of the springs, which were fantastic.  On the Sunday night as we lazed in the hot pools there was a fabulous band playing live music – what a treat, under the stars!

But, I digress.  Saturday we had tickets for a college football game kindly given us by friends of Doug and Tracy.  We took in the whole razzmatazz and had a lovely day.  Even the usually calm Doug became animated at the football game! Thankfully, for his blood pressure, his beloved Montana State team won, though there were a few anxious moments in the first half!  Entertainment it certainly was, but so odd that absolutely no alcohol is allowed or available in the ground, though you could do your heart a world of trouble with all sorts of fatty and sugary food and drinks!

We had an interesting couple of hours in town – tried two bars and met some lovely locals.  We even had a couple of games of pool.  But, back to the hot springs to end the day and plan for last day of fishing on the trip.

On Sunday morning we dropped in to the local tackle shop “Fins and Feathers” another massive shop with tackle, clothing, fly tying kit and to die for.  Boy do the shops in America cater for every branch of the sport, but especially for fly fishers.  The guys there suggested that the Madison was our best bet, in spite of my choice being the Gallatin.  They suggested that the Gallatin was running dirty, so we took their advice and headed for Bear Trap Canyon.  The drive was awesome as the air was so clear.

The countryside here was much “softer” than where we had been for the last few days.  The river looked fantastic….but, it was “infested’ with drift boats.  Later, once fishing, although I couldn’t see him as the banks were overgrown, Kev had a right “barney” with one of the guides in a drift boat that came right into where Kev was fishing. The guide at one point offered to come ashore and “sort it out man to man”!  Interesting situation.  Doug was not far away, and maybe, his presence was enough to stop the guide taking this drastic action, or maybe the fact that he had clients in the boat did it!  Certainly not very friendly behaviour!

We fished a spot well below the canyon and had odd fish, but then moved on up to the Bear Trap!  Beautiful, awesome, grand scenery.  What must the original settles have made of this area?  Wilderness America takes some beating.

The fishing in the canyon was too tough for us!  The wading was all but impossible and the flow of water was fierce.  I managed two or three cutthroats and Doug had a fish, but highlight here was the bald eagle circling overhead as I fished!  It went in to rest on a crag opposite, but, when I returned to the truck for my telephoto lens it had gone.

It being so tough, we decided to head to an alpine lake – we hadn’t fished one of these and as there was one back the other side of our campsite we headed off.  Hyalite Lake is really high in the mountains and snow remains on the peaks most of the summer – there was certainly plenty when we arrived there. The place was a “playground” – campers, walkers, kayakers, cyclists and plenty of fishermen.  We went to the far end where the stream flows in and set up for our last hour or so of fishing for the trip.  It was a struggle and we could have admitted defeat.  I walked a long way round the west shore, whilst Kev and Doug went round the east shore.  One rapid rise was all that I managed.  We ended back at more or less where we started and decided to fish “English style” with a small pheasant tail and a small buzzer.
I started getting takes and ended up with three cutthroats – two of which were decent sized and hard fighting.  Doug managed a little fella and Kev a couple of takes.

We walked back to the truck and admired a family of mule deer grazing on the paddock opposite.  On our drive down the valley as light was dropping, we had the most wonderful view of an enormous bull elk – enormous head of antlers.  Annoyingly I had been going through photographs on my Nikon and only just turned it off an put it on the floor.  I clicked a couple of fuzzy pictures, but, in the light and with so little time they are not worth putting up.

So ended a wonderful trip.  The fishing was varied – from the easy or rather “comfortable” fishing on the Blackfoot, to the challenging fishing on the Madison.  We had some fun on lakes, saw a plethora of wildlife, got a good impression of the state of Montana, and even took in football – America’s greatest game.

I must thank Doug and Tracy for all they did to make the trip a success, and Kev for providing the (mostly untuneful) singing and (uncoordinated) dancing throughout! Three weeks in the RV and barely a cross word…only the fishing guide at Bear Trap persuaded Kev into that!

To next USA Roadtrip…Look out Doug….

Montana 2019 (part three)Quake Lake and Madison

Tuesday morning we went into West Yellowstone.  The weather had changed dramatically and it was barely ten degrees.  We were in no hurry to fish.  A coffee, and then visits to two tackle shops killed a couple of hours.

“Big Sky Anglers” was some shop!  In there I met a good pal of Gareth Jones and he was just so helpful.  In fact we left with so much information on places to fish that we were bewildered.  The sun had by now appeared and although a few showers came through the day it warmed up enough for us to fish.  The first spot we were advised to try was impossible to find.  Secondly, we tried Grayling Creek, which looked beautiful.  Clear water, easily wadeable with lovely runs.  We even saw a rise as we walked towards it.  But, that was the only fish seen, and so, after a fruitless hour of exploring we carried on round Hebgen.

We found a suitable stopping bay and gave Hebgen an hour and sure enough caught a few trout, but none were of any size, and so we carried on towards Quake Lake.

I wandered off and fished towards where the river flows in, though it was much further than I had imagined.  I caught three or four brown trout that fought really well though were only about twelve ounce to a pound.  I missed a few sharp takes too.  Heading back to check on the others I saw a decent head and tail rise and so put a fly in front of the fish and had immediate success.  The fish raced into the lake and I was soon into backing.  The fight though was quite short and soon I had a beautiful rainbow at the side of the lake.  This fish had taken my small caenis pattern and it was obvious that a good hatch of tricos was underway, so I made sure that Doug and Kev were aware of this. and insisted they put on my small flies.

Kev soon started catching and he ended with three fish, one of which had the hook so far down that it was bleeding badly and so, sadly, he had to dispatch it.  This is always a dilemma when fishing in a C&R venue.  Ethically we always want to return our fish, but knowing full well that the fish was going to die, we feel that a sharp knock on the head is the best option.  The fish was eaten next morning for breakfast so it was not wasted.  But, most interesting part in this story was that when cleaned, the rainbow trout had been eating nothing but daphnia.  There was not a trace of tricos in it.  This accounted for the fact that the rises we were seeing were so small – barely breaking surface. We were treated to a most spectacular sunset.  With such beautiful and hard fighting fish to be had we could barely await morning!

Next morning was cold again and so we didn’t hurry out.  We wandered round the lake by the campsite.  Saw nothing much but it warmed up a little.  We decided on an early lunch before setting off and so had some lovely bacon sandwiches.

Arriving at our spot of the last evening, there was a massive hatch of calibaetis going on and we virtually ran back to the truck to get out gear sorted.  As with yesterday I walked off left and Kev went right, Doug staying fairly central.  There were fish taking flies off the surface and in this clear water and sunshine they were easy to spot and cover, but I had one of those sessions when it all went wrong!  The first fish I covered I hooked but the tippet broke on my leader ring (I am not a great fan of these, and this added to my doubts).  Next fish I covered took really sharply and I just lifted too quickly and snapped the fly off.  Then I managed to stick the fly in a bush and spent ten minutes extracting it….

I needed to change my leader after the trouble in the bush, so I took off the ring and added a heavier tippet.  Good job I did this as the next fish I hooked was a feisty rainbow of 18 inches.  With that the rise ended.  Walking back I only saw two more possible targets but they only rose once.

We went to the visitor centre for Quake Lake to find out a bit of its history.  Sadly it was shut, but from the information boards around it we learnt a little.  There was not previously a lake there – this was the Madison River.  But one weekend during a holiday season weekend in August 1959, with many campsites full of holiday makers, there was a massive earthquake that brought rocks piling down.  In no time there was pandemonium, it being at night.  Tragically, 28 deaths were recorded, nineteen of the bodies never even recovered.  There was still great danger as the river backed up by the massive rock fall threatened to bust the rocks and cause a tidal wave downstream.  Engineers had to work quickly to sort this problem, which thankfully they managed to do.  So, Quake Lake remains as a memorial to those holiday makers killed.

Back to the fishing we now had a terrific wind to cope with but it was sunny.  We fished the end of the lake where the river flows out.  We could see odd fish rise – one or two large ones in amongst the ghostly trunks of drowned trees.  A fishing guide came out as we were close to a boat ramp and on chatting he said it had been a “quiet day…with only about two dozen eats”.  All to grasshoppers!

That did it for us and straight away we dived into the hopper boxes.  I fished a green and beige fly for a while with no reaction, but first cast on a dull fawn coloured one I had a nice fish, but yet again it broke the tippet! The session followed the pattern of the morning with many chances – I ended up walking about a mile, but few fish landed.  I don’t ever fish such large flies and have not yet worked out the timing of striking.  Fish were certainly coming to the hopper, but it didn’t matter if I waited before striking or if I hit straight away!  I could not hook the fish.  Then, without any explanation, I managed to land the next four fish that came to the fly – all brown trout between 15 inches and 11 inches.

Doug and Kev had driven round and were in a lay-by that I was walking towards. I jumped into the truck and we had another hour or so at our earlier spot but it being windy, not much happened!

Montana September 2019 part two Rock Creek

We had one more day on the Blackfoot and I must say we really enjoyed the fishing.  The river is really accessible and in many places easily waded.  I should say a little about how we generally fished.  Doug has a four-weight rod, I loaned Kev my three-weight an I used my one-weight until it broke.  Our preference is, not surprisingly, dry fly.  Thankfully, most days saw some hatches and even if nothing was on the water a dry drifted over a likely spot would often produce a fish.  Locals like to prospect with hoppers and, we did have odd fish on them, but, I have  feeling that all of the hoppers that I tied were on the small side.

When there was a hatch under way it was either trico or larger olives – occasionally blue winged olives.  The trico feeders were our favourite fish to target as I have a good supply of flies that work well.  The pattern that I use in Ireland for caenis feeders is perfect on the rivers, and it is rare that if you get a good cast in it fails to produce a take. An alternative was a small plume tip.  For prospecting we would either fish a sedge – I particularly like the pattern that Mladen Mercas introduced me to in Croatia, or some type of Klinkhammer – but reasonably small.  We all used tapered leaders to about a 4X and then another few feet of 5X or 6X.

We headed off to Rock Creek via the small town of Avon, where we met Tracy who brought us fresh supplies, there being few supermarkets in the area we were camping.  We had a light snack and coffee in a cafe before heading off.  The drive was pretty spectacular – at first following a railway line and then the Clark Fork river.  This was carrying plenty of water, and in places was really coloured, but we still saw odd drift boats on it.

We found our campsite and set up the R.V. and then headed to the coffee shop and the fishing tackle dealer.  We had good advice from the young fellow in charge.  So, we headed upstream for an evening on Rock Creek.

Wading was difficult, this was a totally different prospect to wading the Blackfoot!  The creek is steep and so the water flow is rapid.  There are few shallow areas, and almost no sandy parts.  There was little evidence of flies hatching and so I opted for a sedge.  I rose a small fish fairly soon, and did get a cast on a couple of fish that popped up for something on the surface and then caught a small cutthroat to “open my account” on Rock Creek.

I went to check on Kev and Doug and found that they too were struggling – as much with the wading as anything.  I made my way slowly up the creek and eventually decided to just concentrate on the pockets close to the bank.  This produced three small browns and another cutthroat, although I must have missed another dozen, all small.

I called it a day when I reached a point that I had to get out and take to the road.  It was a lovely walk back.  Kev was still fishing but had caught, Doug had packed up.  We soon headed back to the campsite – spotting some wild turkeys on our way, and had our meal, a beer and game of cribbage….Doug usually “gets his own back” on us playing that card game….

Day two was a little disappointing as we could barely find any water to fish.  This creek, it seems, is world famous and because of that it was so busy.  Each time we found a free parking area and went to fish, there would be one, two and sometimes three anglers wading and fishing already.  We fished here and there with modest success, and ended up not really liking this creek.  Maybe we didn’t see it at its best. Maybe we just didn’t go far enough upstream!  I had corresponded with Larry Urban who does Saturdays in the Orvis store in Helena, and a couple of days later I was to do a day in the shop tying flies and chatting with customers.  Larry told me then that we really should have gone another few miles further up.  Wish I’d thought to phone him when we were there at the creek!  Next time?  I did have a mad half hour as it was getting dark, and landed three lovely fish where a small creek came into the main river.  Doug also came into that area and also had a couple of good fish, so we weren’t totally “scuppered”.

We decided to fish the creek near the campsite on the final morning and we had some better fishing there.

We all took some decent whitefish (why do they not like these fish in America?) and we also had  brown trout and a couple of cutthroats.  But, we were to head back to Helena, and so we packed the kit and left for the city.

Next day I worked in the shop – well, not really worked, more restocked my fly box!  Had a lovely lunch in “Ben and Ernie’s”, and spent the early evening in a local brewery.  So, batteries recharged we headed to Beaver Creek part of the Mighty Mo (Missouri River).

The day (a Sunday) was hot, and grasshoppers were everywhere.  I thought it wise to fish a hopper, but, even after a walk of about a mile and a half, I saw only a couple of rises far out.  Certainly nothing was happening close in where you would expect action.  Highlight of the walk was a close encounter with a rattle snake.  Not being used to these creatures in England, I heard this “rattling” noise and went to look into the large hole that it was coming from.  I spotted the snake and immediately called for Kev to come and see it.  I could see that its head was disappearing into a crack and so it was unable to turn and strike;  sadly it had all but gone into the crack before Kev reached the hole.

On Monday  we travelled a long way – towards Yellowstone, though we were not planning on going into the park.  Tracy had sorted us a campsite on the edge of Hebgen Lake.  We had planned to fish that evening – after setting up the camp, but there was a heavy thunderstorm, so instead we saved ourselves for the next day.

 

 

Copyright © Martin Cottis