Prince Nymph Tute

Bead Head Prince Nymph

 

 

       One of my least favorite flies to tie is the Prince Nymph. It takes quite a bit of patients to tie the steps while making sure the biots are where I want them to be. Making sure the biots are even and hoping the peacock herl wraps nicely without tearing. Whether it’s with a bead head or not, they work.

Bead Head Prince Nymph

Hook: Nymph hook #8 thru #16. I use a 3x long hook when tying these with a bead.
Thread: Black
Tail: Brown goose biots split
Rib: Fine gold tinsel
Body: Peacock herl
Legs: Drk Ginger Hackle
Wing: Two white goose biots split.

 

1. Install bead on hook and thread base hook shank to bend.
   
   
   
   
    
   2. Tail: Tie in two brown goose biots to hook shank at bend as so. Unlike tying in biots on a stonefly, flat on the hook shank, these biots are tied flat against the side of the shank.
   
    
   3. Tie in tinsel at hook bend.
    
   
   
    
   4. Secure in 3 to 4 strands of peacock herl by the tips at bend. Make sure you trim off some of the fragile herl tips before tying down herl. Thread over the ends of the herl towards the bead.
   
   
   

5. Body; Wrap the herl forward towards bead and tie down behind bead leaving adequate space behind bead for hackle and wing.

6. Rib: Counter wrap tinsel over herl in open spirals.

 

7. Legs: Tie in the hackle in front of herl. Wind hackle about two turns and tie down.

 

 

 

8. Pull back hackle over herl and wind thread over some of the hackle to flair it backwards.

 

 

 

9. Wings. Tie in two white biots behind bead and through hackle. I like to keep the biots flaring upward.

 

10. Trim biot ends, secure with thread wraps, and whip finish.

11. I dab clear nail polish on the finished thread behind bead.

  The only thing worse than me tying a #14 or #12 Prince Nymph is when someone wants a #16! I found they don’t have to be perfect for the trout to bite.

~doubletaper

Wet and Wild

Wet and Wild

11/09/2018

 

 The once lifeless Autumn fallen leaves, that littered the forest floor, now came alive as the wind pushed them easily down the cliff side and onto the flowing water. Rain fell from the gray clouds that hover above. The cold temperature increased with the wind as I gripped the cork handle with my wet hands. At times I could hear the raindrops upon my hooded raincoat so I would turn my face away from the stinging wind.

My indicator dipped facing up creek and I yanked the rod up, as I pulled in slack line with my left hand. The line tightened and cut through the surface water as the steelhead raced down creek. The two fellows, to my right, brought in their lines quickly at my verbal warning. The steelhead turned toward the middle of the creek and exploded from the surface. In midair it twisted and wrenched the line with its head trying to release the hook from its mouth. It reentered the creek with a spray of water and darted downstream further as I palmed the spool for additional drag. Without notice the line went limp and the rod shaft straightened. Mt tippet looked abrasively cut as it hung below my top sucker spawn.

I stripped off a short piece of fluorocarbon and knotted this to the top sucker spawn. I look through my fly box for another treat and knot this to the end of the fluorocarbon and proceed.

With the two guys to my right I felt my best choice of hooking up to a steelhead was to fish the rough water upstream from them. They both had caught a few in the tailout and just down from them the water was shallow and appeared no fish were holding the calmer shallows. I left Jeff in a section down creek a ways from us that looked like a good section of deeper water. He had forgotten his fly boxes, when we switched vehicles, so I lent him an extra fly box of sucker spawn and gave him a few streamers. I hadn’t seen him catch anything yet but I was sure he was in a good spot.

My next few casts were in the shallow riffle that entered the turbulent water. One of my casts creased the far edge of the pool and the indicator shot towards me and dropped. I yanked the rod upstream and felt the resistance immediately. In an instant the steelhead pulled away and than darted towards me from beneath. I pulled the rod back over my shoulder and backed up a step to keep tension on the line. The steelhead turned down creek and I gave a warning to the two fellows to my right. The steelhead creased the edge of the shallow water in front of the fellows and then continued on down creek. I cautiously followed the steelhead down creek, in front of the two fellows, where I played the fish without troubling the guys any further. The steelhead had no plans on giving up as we both fought against each other trying to take control. During the struggle the line went limp and again I was left empty.

I looked down creek and saw Jeff landing a steelhead. At least one of us was able to land a fish!

I went back up to the rough water and knotted on another sucker spawn combination. As I cast out and watched my indicator for any sudden abnormal movement. As the indicator funneled into the deep outflow it dipped down and again I lifted the rod tip for the hook set. The steelhead took off down the center of the stream before I could give warning. The two fellows lifted their rods as I walked beneath their rods following the fish down creek. I was determined to land this one and not give him as much leeway during his runs. I kept pressure on him a little tighter then the others as we struggled for control. My cold wet hands kept a tight grip on the cork handle with the butt of the rod in my waste. The rod arced out towards the fighting steelhead and the line kept taunt with every pull and tug of the fighting fish. He struggled and tugged fiercely about churning up water when he rose towards the surface. I was able to finally get the fish to the bank and the steelhead laid helpless on the wet bank side. 

 

 

  As the day wore on we all hooked up now and then but it wasn’t as if it was one after another. The two fellows missed a few also and I landed another before one of the guys left. I moved down into the vacant spot and fished the tail out in calmer water. While I was biding my time Jeff appeared behind me and told me he was hooking up quite often and needed a few more streamers if I could lend him a couple. I handed him a couple and he offered me to join him. I told him I’ll be down soon enough. After another caught steelhead I spent another half hour before heading down creek with Jeff. He pointed to the section where he was catching the steelhead. I slowly waded out and could visually see the steelhead holding near the bottom of the creek floor. I tried a few different offering but had a hard time getting one to commit. I believe they were pretty spooky by now with Jeff hooking up earlier but I continued to tease the fish until one finally took a Triple Threat. The water instantly churned as the line tightened on my hook set. Oblong shapes scattered beneath as my hooked fish scrambled about disrupting the others calm presence. There was a lot more room to work the steelhead and I didn’t feel pressured getting him in as I did upstream with the other two guys being near. After getting the steelhead somewhat tired out I was able to get him to the bank trouble free.

 

 Jeff and I fished the rest of the day with a few more hook ups and wildly fighting fish.   

 We both wanted to get back to where I picked him up at before dark. Late afternoon we called it quits and headed towards my truck. It was a relief to get out of the wet bulky waders and out of the cold wet weather. On the drive back we talked about getting together again and where we’d be hunting deer at. I dropped him off at his truck in the Walmart parking lot. He opened up the tailgate of his truck and reached in for a bag. Sure enough he found the fly boxes he had intended to use on our steelhead outing. He thanked me again for letting him borrow some of my flies. We parted ways and I headed home.

 

 Somewhere on route 62 I took out a rewarding cigar, lit it up and enjoyed the rest of the ride home.

 ~doubletaper

Brook Trout on the Dry

Brook Trout on the Dry
May 19th, 2018

  I was tired of casting Woolly Buggers with a ton of weight on the leader to get them down deep in the high and fast running current. I was bored with the rhythmic motion of nymph fishing and wet fly fishing. I came to Potter County for dry fly action but because of the high and fast current from the week day storms there wasn’t much of a hatch and the trout weren’t rising on Kettle Creek. Saturday evening I decided to go to a smaller creek in hopes of finding rising trout or at least water conditions that were much more in my favor.

 In the smaller stream I found myself thigh high in colder water and looked over the situation of what I would decide to tie on first. This creek was on the high side also but the current wasn’t so fast and since it wasn’t as deep there might be a chance for the trout laying on the bottom to rise to a Mayfly. There were a few small Sulphurs coming off the surface now and then like hot embers rising from a campfire flame. I didn’t see any trout rising though. One of those sulphurs got close enough to me and I was able to catch and cradle it in my hand. It was about a size #18 with a light olive segmented underside and faint yellow above. It almost looked like a grey fox but the thorax was a distinct orange/sulphur color with dun color wings. I knotted on a Sulphur para-dun when I seen my first rise near the far bank.
 My casts to the far side were long as I didn’t want to disturb the midstream water where other fish might have been holding. I missed three trout before I realized what I felt I was doing wrong. I figured the trout rising were just small brook trout but any fish rising I was ready to go after. Because of the long line I had out I was trying to set the hook with just a wrist set. By the time the length of line got off the water and straightened out the hook set was late. I decided to rear back on the rod with more force and try to set the hook more quickly. Once I got the hang of it I hooked up with these little beauties more often. I had them skipping across the surface fighting the 4 weight. Others would dart beneath as I was bringing them near me fighting the line trying to get free. 

  I had to go down to a size #20 midge at times to get a trout to rise when I didn’t see any more sulphurs on the water.

 

  I only seen one Gray color May fly which may have been a Quill Gordon or Hendrickson. I knotted on a similar imitation and ended up hooking a nice size brook trout in the process.

 I was having fun but the cold water was taking its toll. It wasn’t long before my whole body was chilled from standing thigh high in the cold water. There were still a few risers down creek a bit but I decided to call it a day. I was getting hungry and thirsty and I was pretty sure the trout won’t be going anywhere overnight and maybe I’ll be teasing them in the morning.

 

 Back at camp I cooked up some trout fillets and pork and beans for supper. A little BBQ sauce in the beans added flavor and Old Bay on the fillets is a must!

 

 

  For the night cap I enjoyed an Railbender ale and sipping some bourbon. While thinking about the days fishing and tomorrows possibilities I sat back and lit up a Arturo Double Chateau sun grown. I definitely finished off the day of trout fishing to the finest.  

 

~doubletaper

Glass'n in the Float Tube

Glass’n in the Float Tube
July 2018

 

 The pond lays calm encircled by the green forest. It resembles a round doughnut shape with a small island of grass off centered. Clouds shadow the pond surface as they drift beneath the early rising sun. A light wind wrinkles the surface water, like a glazed doughnut, sparkling under the bright sun in full view. My float tube is pocketed with streamers, poppers and essentials for this outing for largemouth fishing. My choice rod is a 6 weight, 8’6” Wonderod fitted with a large arbor and 7 weight line.

 

 I push off the bank and fin my way into open water. I spent the first hour or so casting towards the banks with an assortment of poppers. Not getting any takes I switch to streamers and finally get a take. The bass grabs the streamer as I strip it towards me. I set the hook with a hard over the head yank and the bass fights the glass rod as it bows and flexes with every tug. 

 Keeping with the streamers, as I float around the pond, I catch a few other pond fish on the streamers.

 

 

  As I float near the island I hear water disturbance and look towards the commotion. Waves of water splash about in the shadows of the trees near a shallow corner of the pond. It was evident that bass are feeding, chasing bait fish and causing the disturbance. I fin my way closer and cast a Clouser minnow towards the ruckus. The fly line loops in the air and the streamer touches down into the feeding fish. The take is almost instant and a hard yank sets the hook. A bass explodes from beneath into the air trying to shake the hook. He reenters with an audible splash. I waste no time and guide him towards me not worried about breaking off with 10lb leader and tippet.

 

  The action is fast as the bass feed. Another take on the streamer and another bass fights for freedom.

 

  There’s a thick branch protruding the surface just out from the bank to my right. I can’t tell the deepness but it’s one of those spots that looks like a bass might be hiding in ambush. As my Clouser streaks through the air a strong breeze guides it to the far right of the branch. I make a strip to tighten the line and I watch a wake towards my streamer. A quick strip and the bass grabs it. The rod bows with my hook set and flexes deep into the butt section. The bass yanks back and heads out of the shallows to my far right. I have the cork grip pointing upwards taking in line as the bass tugs and fights the flexing rod for an advantage. I turn him, not giving up line, and he heads towards the float tube. I quickly take in line till I have him near. He takes a couple of deep dives but the glass rod flexes deep and he rises back up to the surface. 

 

  As things slow down it’s time to relax a bit and I take out an AB Nica Puro Rosado. I nip off a bit of the cap on the torpedo shaped stogie and lick the flavor of the outer wrapper. Cupping my hand I light the foot and the cigar comes to life as smoke fills the air around me. The Nicaraguan tobacco satisfies my cigar urge while I continue fishing for bass.  

 

  I float around casting streamers anticipating a strike at any moment. I catch a few smaller bass and a blue gill and another healthy looking rock bass.

 

 

  Wanting to get at least one fish on a popper I switch to a dark color popper which should show up well under the fading sun. I miss one bass but at least I know the dark popper caused a strike, one color I hadn’t used earlier. Slowly floating my way to me exit point I cast the popper just off the bank. The water erupts where my popper was and I yank back. The bass tail wags as he exit’s the water perpendicular to the surface. He splashes down and my line tightens again. He isn’t as big as I would have liked but the explosion on a surface popper always jolts me with excitement.

 

   7 some hours fishing for bass comes to a close as I make my way to land. I enjoy a cold brew while changing into dry clothes and putting my gear away. Of coarse a stogie for the drive home makes for a good ending to a relaxing bass pond outing.

~doubletaper

 

March Brown Emerger

March Brown Emerger

Hook;     3906B Mustad #12

Thread;    Camel 8/0
Tail;         Pheasant Tail Fibers
Rib;        Brown Thread
Abdomen;    March Brown Dubbing
Wing;    Gray Poly or Lt. Dun Z-Lon. Down wing.
Thorax;     March Brown Dubbing
Head;     Camel 8/0

 I very seldom buy flies. Instead, once I’m on a stream and get to hold or see a Mayfly or Caddis, I tie my imitation myself.
 I was fishing Kettle Creek one day and the trout weren’t coming up for my March Browns but I felt they were hitting emergers instead. I went to the Kettle Creek Tackle Shop to see what Phil had that would imitate a March Brown Emerger. Who else would know Kettle Creek better than Phil? I seen his imitation and bought a few to try out. Needless to say I hammered those trout which were taking emergers.
Here is my interpretation of the March Brown emerger.

1. Thread base hook shank to bend of hook.

2. Tail: Use about 4 strands of Pheasant tail fibers. Length of hook.

3. Rib; Tie in brown thread at bend of hook.

4. Abdomen; Dub abdomen with a shade of March Brown dubbing

5. Rib; Counter wrap brown thread leaving space to tie down wing behind hook as shown.

6. Wing. Tie in wing of either Gray Poly or Lt. Dun Z-Lon. I trim the wing to about half the tail length.

7. Thorax; Dub a thorax over the front part of the wing and thread wrap the head.

Material

Give'm What They Want

Give’m What They Want
5/05/18

 

  As I was driving west, on the old country roads, I was hoping to get into a hatch of caddis on Oil Creek. Jeff had told me that all during the week there had been a heavy hatch of Grannoms at times and other caddis mixed in. Being a Saturday and promising of warm 70 degrees and sunshine, I figured the fly fishing only section in the park would be quite crowded. I decided to fish open regulation waters and turned down the dirt road towards the bridge. When I got to the bridge there were already plenty of vehicles in the small couple of parking areas. I pulled off the side of the road and proceeded to get my fishing gear on.
 Small cotton clouds slowly moved below the soft blue sky. Birds chirped as if the first day of warmer weather was upon us. In the distance geese were honking and the sound of a hawk was heard occasionally overlooking the forest and water for food. When I stepped off the bank, into the knee high water, I immediately felt the chill of the water around my legs.
 The water was lightly stained and a little higher than the weekend before. Looking into the depth to my boots I could see a couple of feet beneath me but I was sure the water was much darker below that depth. The promise of sunshine should clear the water up by noon for the first part but wasn’t sure how much the water level would drop. There were already a few caddis that dotted the air like lazy snowflakes on a crisp frosty winter morning.
 Looking downstream there were two guys, about knee deep, fly fishing towards the bank. Further down creek there were a few conventional rod fishermen fishing the faster wavy water. I could tell they were using conventional rods by the flick of their wrist when casting. Their yellow and white minnow bucket sat on the stony bank about a couple of feet from the water. It stood out like a freshly painted fire hydrant on a desolate street corner.
 The sun was still on the rise and cast a shadow of the bridge rails upon the water surface. The partially submerged boulder I fished near the past week was now covered with water but still made the surface water wave in the otherwise calmer, unencumbered wider section of the stream.
 For my first selection I decided on a UV sucker spawn for my top fly. I figured this would at least direct attention in the darker water to any curious trout. Getting their attention may bring them near and possibly see the more realistic nymph or offering I have as a dropper.
 For the first hour or so I fished and didn’t move too far from my location. I changed offerings often and occasionally got a trout to take. I had caught one on a San Juan worm and one trout on a sucker spawn. When the sun shown bright the caddis came over the water in a good heavy hatch. There wasn’t a trout to be seen rising to the caddis that dapped the water surface. During the hatch I used a wet fly and caught one rainbow that struck the Picket Pin like it would grab a Woolly Bugger. I stuck around for another half hour after the hatch was over and ended up hooking into a couple more rainbows on a streamer. From there I fished my way down creek to the faster water the other fishermen vacated. Without catching anything under the hot sun I returned to the truck and headed elsewhere.

 I followed the dirt road and when I turned the corner there wasn’t a vehicle in the small parking area. I know the sun was out and it was 70 some degrees but it’s still only the third weekend of trout season. I parked the truck and headed down the trail to the creek.
 The water had cleared up nicely but it was still high. I walked up creek to a section that usually hold trout and have seen trout rise on occasions. With the sun out though there wasn’t any hatch to speak of. I knotted on a Woolly Bugger and slowly waded and fished my way across creek. I wanted to get as close to the far side to fish as I could. The stream bed rocks moved beneath my boots as a slowly stepped my way. The water was still tinted enough that when the sun got covered by a cloud I was unable to see the bottom before me to tell how deep it was. I got to where I was a little bit beyond half way across the creek in thigh high water. My casts would have to be long to reach the boulders that lined the bank on the far side. Before I make those long casts though I would start with shorter casts and cover the area closer to me first.

 I cast out about 20 feet in front of me and let the bugger swing down creek. I just knew there had to be trout in this nice seam of water. After a couple casts without a strike I decided to keep adding weight to the leader until I either touch bottom or catch a trout. The line was almost pointing down stream when a trout hit the bugger hard. I pulled back on the line while pulling the rod tip back over my shoulder. The line straightened and the trout struggled and fought on the other end. I kept the rod tip down trying to keep the trout well below the surface. When he began to lose energy I forced him upstream beyond me. Once he was in front of me a lowered the net in the water and lowered the rod tip. The trout unknowingly backed up into the net and I scooped him up before he was aware of the trap.
 Now that I found the right amount of weight to go along with my Woolly Bugger and the right depth to get down to the trout I continued casting, swinging and stripping the bugger in the same fashion. Well, you would have thought I was handing out free corn dogs at a small town carnival. Trout were attacking my bugger one after another as if it was going to be the last big meal they would see in a while. I suppose because of the rain and higher water the past couple of days no other fishermen were able to reach the far side or near enough to where the trout were at. Maybe the trout were tired of the small morsels of bugs and food that drifted with the muddy water that they wanted some meat. Well the Woolly Buggers were the meat they were looking for, for the time being.

 

 The whole time I was casting and catching trout there were two geese that hung around. They’d swim a piece now and then but most of the time they scavenged along the shoreline.  At times they stood upon the boulders and watched me fish like spectators at sporting event.

  I’d switch off and throw a Triple Threat on occasion and on occasion a trout would smack that also.

After an hour or so my casting shoulder was beginning to get sore. I’ve been out since 8 am and the casting has taken its toll. I waded out of the water and headed to where I came to the creek earlier. I was surprised that there was no one fishing in the section of water just below the bike trail. There’s usually fish that hold in this section in between the shallow water below and the faster riffles ahead of this section. I just had to give it a try before heading to the truck. I drifted nymphs but if the trout didn’t take my offering within a few casts I’d clip them off and try another. When I dropped a bead head Hares Ear it grabbed some attention and I picked up a few more trout.

 I even caught a couple of trout on a pink sucker spawn before I called it quits. I caught a couple of chubs on the pink egg also.

 Back at the truck I opened a pint of Boddingtons Pub Ale. It wasn’t as cold as I would have liked but it was chilled enough, wet and had a smooth creamy beer taste as if it was just draught from the keg. By the time I got changed into street clothes the pint was empty. I took out an AVO Robusto; I received from a friend, and relaxed in the driver’s seat for the way home. 

 Another day in the books!

~doubletaper