Baja Colours, Santiago

When a Canadian winter strikes there is an absence of colour and even light. Cool colours predominate to match the temperatures: greys, whites, faded-out browns, ice blue. Here are some contrasting warm Baja colours and some marine blues and greens in the brillant Baja light that were captured in past seasons while Rooster fishing the East Cape; and of course a few fish shots.




santiago baja

 

A closed store front (above) with peeling paint in Santiago a charming inland Colonial town about one hour north of San Jose del Cabo and Los Cabos airport. Check out the hand prints on the window. Few tourist visit Santiago except those interested in Colonial history and religion. There is also a fresh water desert spring nearby that pulls some people off of the trans-peninsular highway and trekking in the nearby Sierra de la Laguna mountains. It is a beautiful little town with some interesting architecture ( historic buildings), lots of up and down contours to it (character), trees and a classic hotel. Green agricultural fields surround much of it. The people are friendly and polite. The town is kind of a little oasis in the Baja desert. It is fairly close to the Sea of Cortez. From Santiago you can be on an East Cape beaches in 20 or 30 minutes. Every year I try and take a 2 or 3 hour morning or evening break from fishing to visit. Some years I get to it, some years I don't. I'm never disappointed when I do. On a rare occasion I've spotted a traditional Mexican casita for sale or for "Renta", and dream about what it would be like to Winter in this authentic town. It might be challenging as there are not many Gringos inland. Most are tucked along the coast. And my Spanish, "No Hablo Espanol", is poor. Then again, a different culture and language would be an experience. Santiago also seems affordable and is within striking distance to some of the most beautiful beaches the East Cape has to offer. Dreams.....

santiago baja

santiago baja

santiago baja



cabo pulmo

los frailes bay



colorful la ribera cemetery

rooster fish

medio-sized (medium) rooster fish

Snowshoeing, Baja and Rooster Fish

 

  

 

 

It has been cold in SW Alberta all week long: -20C for several days. I got a chance to go snowshoeing today, Christmas day, and took some pictures: winter scenes. While plodding through the snow I thought about warm places and especially Baja where I've gone fly fishing for Rooster fish the past five seasons (Spring). Each year I've learnt a little more about angling Baja beaches for these amazing fish. Two books helped me along the way in my DIY pursuit.

 

The first, Fly Fishing Southern Baja, by Gary Graham, is very helpful in respect to where to fish and had other basic information.

The second, Fly Fishing the Baja and Beyond, by Mike Rieser, has detailed information on all aspects of chasing Rooster fish, with a lot of insight on beach fishing and Rooster fish behavior. Mike Rieser has also done two radio shows on the sport on: askaboutflyfishing.com. Listening to these shows really helped me prepare for Baja and his angling insights (radio and book) played an integral role in me catching a couple of Roosters. I re-read sections of the book before every trip.

If you are considering a Rooster fish trip to the Baja check out these two resources.

Plodding in the snow. Plodding in the sand. It all makes sense.

 

 

Patagonia, Futaleufu River, Part 12

The Futaleufu is the biggest and most dangerous trout river I have ever been on. It is more aggressive and powerful river than the Bow, the Madison, the Elk, or the Yellowstone. It has a big push to it and a significant gradient in many sections. It rumbles and tumbles through the Patagonian Andes down to the Pacific. Its size is respected in Argentina where it is called the Rio Grande, not to be confused with the one much further south in Tierra Del Fuego. It has many class IV and V whitewater sections and deep gorges, especially in Chile. It is probably more well known in the daredevil kayaking community than in fly fishing circles. Jim warned on my first float, " Face your danger!" Not a bad mantra on a powerful river.

The Futaleufu is a tailwater river. It exits a huge reservoir in Argentina. It is the first tailwater river I fished consistently. It is diverse water with many features: runs; strong rapids; giant flats and pools; islands; side channels; shoals; huge sloughs; back eddies; foam lines, even a wonderful waterfall. Water with features is good when hunting for trout. Features mean opportunity.

The gradient on the section I floated was manageable. The river meandered quite a bit. It still had many hazards: thickly lined willow banks; many downed trees in the water; giant boulders; whirlpools, some the size of a baseball diamond; hard angle turns with hazardous sharp outer edges; etc. Make a mistake and the Futaleufu could gobble you up.

Three or four times a week I rowed a durable raft from the Argentine border into Chile. It was about a five mile float. We accessed the river through a barbed wired gate of a large Estancia where I cut my hands on more than one occasion on a rusty spur. Once on Estancia property we'd drive a dusty cattle trail a quarter mile down to the river. The Futaleufu would appear in the distance: broad, willow lined and aquamarine blue. On a steep embankment we used gravity to side the raft off the trailer into the cool flow; like a child descending a park slide.

The flow and water temperature on the Futaleufu was always excellent even though when I was there Patagonia went through a severe drought. There were forest fires on both sides of the border. It always seemed sunny and dry. I can only remember one or two days of rain in the five months I rowed the river. I liked the consistency: water flow and temperature, and the sun above. The fishing became predictable due to these consistencies. Almost as predictable as the Patagonian winds which kicked in everyday at around 1 pm.

The Futaleufu was dominated by rainbows but also had a fair amount of brown trout. In the Fall some Pacific salmon showed as did some Atlantic salmon. After a couple of floats I learnt several locations which became my bread and butter spots for consistently finding surface feeding trout. Being a tailwater river I learnt quickly that most of the insect life was small stuff. You could fish the river throughout most of the season quite successfully just with a Midge pattern, a small Adams or a tiny Caddis.

The big rivers of Chile, I learnt from afar, had the reputation of being streamer fisheries.You could throw streamers on the Futaleufu and some of the largest fish landed were caught this way. Large attractor dries with droppers could also be productive when fishing blind. However, day in and out if you wanted to consistently catch fish, small fly patterns were the way to go, especially if you liked sight fishing. Small stuff is what the fish sipped on.

On the slower parts of the river where bugs collected you could sight fish. The Futaleufu offered these opportunities all season long. Big and small back eddies, foam lines some 60 yards long, sloughs and a side channel provided a lot of sight fishing possibilities. If you check out the subtle current lines entering slow sections of the river and you'd see fish: there was a side channel we called Spring Creek, a slough section we called Bonefish Flats, a small eddy near the lodge we called Jamitos corner. All had cruising and sipping trout.

People who travel across the globe often expect fish to be everywhere and easy to catch but this was not the case on the rivers I fished in Patagonia. You had to fish well to catch consistently. And fly size often mattered especially with active surface feeders. Throw a bushy Wulff pattern to a 20 inch rainbow feeding in a bubble line line behind a dangling willow branches and you would get a cold shoulder....not always, but usually. Tailwater fish are tailwater fish. I'd often tell clients to fish smaller stuff when casting to sipping fish only to be ignored. After several casts and refusals they'd look at me and say, "Ok, what did you want me to tie on?" A size 18 midge would take that large rainbow.

Patagonia, The Horseman, Part 11

patriarch of rural chilean valley

 

At the lodge there was the Gaucho and the Horseman. The Gaucho was a middle aged gentleman solidly built and dark in complexion. To an outsider like me, he looked like the quintessential Chilean, if there is such a thing. He managed the farm, lassoed and slayed animals for the lodge, and operated the smoke house and barbecued all of the meat we ate. The Horseman, his assistant, was much younger. His complexion was fairer and he had a slight build. He looked like a Jockey. Maybe a little too tall for one. He had one front tooth that was slightly crooked. The Gaucho was good at many farm tasks but the Horseman was the much better rider. He was a magician in the saddle. He could turn his horse on spot 360 degrees, get it to kneel, and make it go backwards. He negotiated the many wooden farm gates with ease without ever having to get off of his horse to open and close them. No other rider could do that. There is no way I could describe the complexity of this task. His most remarkable riding skill however was not manoeuvrability or horse tricks. His prowess in my eyes, a non-rider, was his ability to deliver eggs. Every once in awhile the farm chickens weren't cooperative and the lodge ran short of eggs. The horseman would be summoned to travel to the next valley where he had relatives to get extra eggs. He'd be gone for a good part of the day but always returned with a least two dozen. None, and I emphasis none, were ever broken. These weren't supermarket eggs packaged in a cardboard or Styrofoam for protection. He'd collect the eggs and very carefully stack them in a a round can about the size of a large coffee or for reference sake about the size of a gallon paint can. One day when he returned with eggs I asked to look inside the can. The bottom eggs were place on their ends for strength, not on their sides. They were neatly packed in this way tight to the sides of the can. The next layer was placed once again end first in the space between the bottom eggs. This way there was little wasted space. And so it went, stacked layer on layer, until eggs reached the top of the can. He could pack what looked like two dozen in a can that way. Then he would ride 2 to 3 hours with them through the Andes, up and down, across arroyos, through numerous gates and arrive with all intact. I remember looking into the the can to see how he did it and smiling. In response a big smile grew on his face. He knew I recognised the specialness of what he could do.

the horseman

Patagonia, Carnegie Hall, Part 10

 

Most mornings Jim was up early casting with his Hexagraph fly rod on the range next to the lodge. When the line gracefully unfolded and landed he'd pause and look intently as if imagining a large trout was rising from the dew covered lawn. I'd be loading coolers with drinks and snacks for an all day float on the Futaleufu river. When he saw me he always said the same thing, " Hey Robert, how do you get to Carnegie Hall?" He had river rocks on the casting range marking off distances in 10 foot increments: 10, 20, 30, up to 90 feet. Jim often said with a smile that this was where 80 foot casters became 60 foot casters! The rocks don't lie. Often a visiting angler would join him on the range. Jim would politely give some pointers, joke a bit and talk about fly fishing and the promise of the day ahead. He was a talented host. The morning light would just be cresting the Andean peaks and flooding the valley. It warmed the large Monkey Puzzle tree in front of the lodge and the many flowers in the garden. Jose, a Gaucho, was usually around smoking a rollie or sipping Mate from a gourd. Majestic Chilean horses were always there grazing near the Bodega (barn). Chickens were also around. They were always around as was my dog, Brooke. The sheep in the corral would just be waking up. From the lodge kitchen came the smell of coffee, bacon and eggs. Fresh eggs. Mornings were always quiet. Just soft pastoral sounds. The sound of living things. The sound of the natural world waking up. Looking back some of the best mornings of my life were right there, witnessing it all: The horses; the chickens; the Monkey Puzzle tree; the garden; the Gaucho; the smell of coffee and breakfast; Jim throwing tight loop after tight loop in the warm morning light imagining large trout rising from the lawn. How do you get to Carnegie Hall? The answer was always the same, "practice".



chile fly fishing lodge

bodega

 

 

gaucho

Patterns in Nature

Patterns. You see them everywhere in nature The dots and speckles on a Trout. A pattern. Stripes on a Zebra. A pattern. The barring and spots on a Northern Flicker. A pattern. Some patterns camouflage, some attract. The art and fashion world have long borrowed from these patterns; these consistent arrangements. Here are some patterns.

ring necked pheasant feathers

 

brown trout camo

 

 

Midges Saved the Day

high plains hwy

missouri river rainbow

 

I spent last weekend on the Missouri River. I was on a budget so I slept in my vehicle and brought snacks. The river fished well. November can be a good time on the Missouri. If the wind lays low then some great surface action can be had. On Saturday it didn't blow too hard and the fish were on Olives in the afternoon. I caught several on dries. On Sunday I got an early start, around 9:00 am. The fish were up and already very active on midges, mainly emergers. Fall is considered Baetis(Olive) time (afternoon hatch) for the dry fly angler but experience has taught me that the midge fishing can even be better. The key is that it tends to be very calm in the morning and with the river surface being glass-like, trout are often found actively feeding on midges...a tailwater staple. That is exactly what I experienced on Sunday morning. By noon the wind was full throttle and the Baetis hatch never really developed and therefore I spotted few surface fish. With the morning midge activity I caught nice fish on midge dries but had more success using an emerger pattern fished just inches under a Griffith's Gnat (dry). The rainbows were concentrating on the rising swimming emergers. I had to angle my cast downstream at a bulging fish and skate or wake the tiny dry with dangling emerger in front of the fish to get a response. Often they surged at the emerger and inhaled it. Midges saved the day.

missouri river

The whole river valley was full of  life: Ring-Necked Pheasants, Hawks, a Bald Eagle, many Coots in the side channels, Beaver, Muskrat, Deer and Antelope, and of course bulging and sipping Trout. I saw several good sized brown trout on redds. In mid afternoon the temperature hit mid 50's F. It was a great way to spend an early November weekend.  I caught my first trout of the 2012 season on a dry fly in early April and possibly my last this past weekend: November. The small fly season can truly be a long one. The key is river selection (water type). Here are some pictures of the trip.

 

butte near cascade montana

Sub-Zero Trout

tailwater rainbow caught on midge

Winter arrived in SW Alberta last week. Saturday afternoon the temperature was sub-zero. I had to deal with ice in the rod guides, a frozen reel and of course cold fingertips in spite of gloves. Vibram soles without studs along with snow and ice made for some comical moments. I slid down several steep embankments on my derriere....early season tobogganing. The cold weather made an already weak hatch, weaker. There were still some BWO's around along with midges. I had to cover territory and hunt to find rising fish. Eventually I found several and a couple were quite large. The best one landed was just shy of 20 inches. It took a size 20 midge: black body, a couple of turns of grizzly hackle, clear trailing shuck, and white wing for visibility. Best thing about the hook up was that the fish was found sipping in a relaxed manner just off of the bank in a foot of water or less. I was downstream and watched its behaviour for a short while before casting. It was feeding fairly consistently and most of its head, which was large, poked through the surface. After several casts things came together and I saw it leave the bottom, gently rise and take in the tiny imitation, all kind of in slow motion. Fortunately I didn't react too quickly, as sometimes I do with a very slow riser. I waited for the fish to take the imitation, slowly raised the rod tip and the small hook held. It had been caught before, probably on a large hook and had some damage done to it's mouth. Otherwise it was healthy. Tailwater rivers are amazing: large trout in shallow water, on small flies in sub-zero temperatures!

Lower Oldman River Report

I spent this past Sunday afternoon on the tailwater section of Oldman river. It was cloudy and cool, and it snowed just west of the river. It seemed like good Blue Wing Olive weather. Unfortunately, the hatch of small and large Olives was fairly weak. There were just enough bugs late afternoon when it turned sunny to bring up some fish in collector areas such as in back eddies, etc. Trout were found sipping on the Olives. I caught a few and missed several. Some solid fish were rising.

I haven't been on the river in at least 3 weeks and the water was extremely low. Side channels I had fished not long ago were completely dry. It is the lowest I have ever seen it.

soupy reverse current/eddy

deer fording river

Silver Creek Scenes

Some Spring Creek photos by Rebecca D:



silver creek, east access

 

clear creek water

 

 

 

good creek air

Browns on North Picabo Road

silver creek brown trout

Two weeks ago I fished a section of Silver Creek along North Picabo Road. I had the place almost to myself. That was good. The water there is quite tough as there is, especially at the East Access, few trees or even bushes along the creek. In full sun with the creek surface mirror-like, you are exposed. And trout have great vision. The water has significant weed growth often seemingly solid from one bank to the other. The hatch was weak: some Mahoganies and a few Olives but nothing significant. The Mahoganies did bring up some fish for an hour or two at most in the early afternoon and that was welcomed. Most of the time I simply had to watch the water patiently for signs of life and fish a terrestrial pattern, usually a beetle. I often remained still for 30 minutes or more in a stretch before spotting or hearing some sort of movement (feeding). Often it was a subtle sip or in contrast a quick lunge at some sort of food type before quickly returning to cover and then nothing for a long time. Sometimes I'd hear something, then look and see a surface bubble next to a bank which suggested a rise. With these occasional signs of life there was some hope and opportunity. I spent 3 or 4 days fishing this section of the creek and managed to connect with a few nice Browns. The whole place was silent and completely still. It was so quiet at one point I remember only being conscious of a ringing in my ears. I have not experienced silence like that since being in Patagonia 15 years ago. I'll go back to North Picabo Road.

My best fish, Browns, were landed on:  small black beetle: size 16 Mahogany; and a Damsel fly.

silver creek east




 

Trout Town

 

 

 

The Cross on the other side of Hwy 15 is still glowing. In a few moments dawn will extinguish it. It is 7:30am and anglers in moss green and khaki coloured quick dry pants, fleece tops and ball caps with logos make the walk to the local fly shop to get their morning cup of coffee and a hot breakfast burrito wrapped in tin foil. Their hands are tucked in pockets as it is Fall. Some of the older ones puff on a smoke. They come from everywhere: California; Washington state; New York; Canada; some even from far away places like Germany, Sweden and South Africa. Trucks and SUV's start to come and go. Most are towing drift boats. Their licence plates say: dryfly, fins, nympher; 5X, bamboo...and so on. A few town dogs snoop around and cover the territory. Waders still hang on porches. In a couple of hours all will head for the water. A parade of drift boats will begin the float down the river. It is all part of the morning routine in Trout Town: Craig, Montana, year round population 43.