Nymphing Time Again

The spring time fly calendar has begun once again: nymphing for rainbows and cutthroat in outlet/inlet streams on Vancouver Island. Rainbows spawn in the spring, while cutthroat spawn opportunistically, and are with the rainbows for a free meal. There are Dolly Varden, too, in some systems, that spawn and spend their winter in the river then mosey back out to saltwater in spring.

The rainbows spend the majority of their time in Island lakes but crowd together for spawning in the streams that service the lake, either above or below. If you want to fish alone for a high numbers of fish, get out your Backroad Mapbook and find the lakes that have such rivers and streams.

There are hundreds of lakes on Van Isle, and virtually all have streams in and out. There are also 123 watersheds on the Island, so you have lots to choose from. The closest by is the Cowichan River that flows out of the lake of the same name. The well-subscribed Elk River, west of Campbell River, is another. The rest you need to get out there and pay your dues to find. Just look at the map, make a plan and go.

Nymphing is a delightfully light tackle sport in the best weather of the year – sunny and warm. Get out your 4-weight, or at most, 6-weight, and your floating line. Pick up several of those poly leaders or dipped, black tips that Martingale to the loop on your fly line.

To the tippet, Improve Clinch knot a size 8- to 12- nymph. Nymphs are the larval stages of many insects; the most frequently encountered include Mayflies, Caddis flies and sedges. They spend their time eating algae off stones on the bottom of rivers. When they mistakenly let go, or come free from what holds them down, they tumble downstream until a fish nabs them. 

Nymphing is all about using a fly that resembles a larval insect and letting it tumble freely downstream. Fortunately for inexperienced fly fishers, this is the best time to learn to fish because the fish are close, casts are short, and the tendency of the inexperienced to lift their rod tip in the air (rather than tip in the water, and the fly swung under tension) actually aids catching fish.

The key phrase in nymphing is: dead drift. You want the nymph to tumble freely with no tension from the rod; that would make the fly swing like the nymph is swimming, which they don’t do, and, hence, no self-respecting fish would bite, particularly in well-subscribed fisheries. An example on our eastern border, is the Elk River near Fernie. It receives anglers from around the world, and the westslope cutthroat are presented with fake offerings so many times a day they are choosy. Not to mention that if the trout gets pricked, caught and released, that fish won’t likely take a poorly presented fly very often.

The other key is standing beside the fish rather than above. That means you have to carefully move into position so the fish do not see you. You are finding them in the heads of pools, around structure, most often logs and on bends where deeper water is usually on the outside of the turn. Note that your rod tip can be as much as 15 feet in the air, so being stealthy is essential.

You want to be beside the fish because that is the easiest position to tumble a fly without tension. You cast the fly a little bit above where you stand, keep the rod tip high and follow the fly in its downstream drift, then, when under tension, lift the fly and repeat your cast. Most fish let you know of their interest by the line tightening, but some times it’s a whack. Because there are more fish to choose from in this kind of fishery, this aspect also helps the novice, by their receiving more bites and so it doesn’t matter if some are missed.

One more thing: nymphs are easy to tie, so pick up the items and tie. Remember that in busy fisheries the more like the natural nymphs the flies are, as in more artistry and etc. in the tie, is something that rewards the fisher. In less often fished and where there are greater numbers of anadromous fish, the less accurate the fly need be. Fish that re-enter freshwater are less choosy for a few weeks because they don’t know what the local food looks like, giving the coastal angler a better chance with a stimulator pattern than in solely freshwater with resident fish.

So, pick up the more complex ties at your fly shop, and learn to tie a simpler tie, if you are new to tying. Nymphs are usually tied, at least on the coast, to size 8- to 12-sized freshwater nymph hooks. Bead heads are usually put on the hook to give the fly some sink. Then wrap some embroidery black bushy thread from head to tail, and then tie in some wriggly rubber legs. Take a one-inch length of leg material, make a ‘V’ out of it and tie in the bend, right behind the bead head. Tie another ‘V’ before the bend and that’s it. You can add a third in the middle because most larvae have six legs. 

Finally, in your fishing, turn over a rock or two to find nymphs on the bottom and see how closely they match your fly. Take a photo or two for fly tying later, then carefully return the rock to its position. When you scrutinize the images later, consider which of your flies is closest, and most importantly, remember the fly that had the most bites, rather than the fly that you landed most fish on, which is an important distinction. If you had ten bites and two lands in your day, it makes sense to know the fly that got the most bites because that was 80% of the fish you fooled, and is the fly you want to remember next time.

Knowing What You Know Without Knowing It

 One of the nice things about fishing is renewing acquaintance with areas you have fished in the past. You relearn things that you once knew by heart. And so, I went to Clover Point to fish the run to Brotchie Ledge on Christmas Day, a run I once knew by heart.

The tide and current tables were thus: reversal of ebb for the Race Rocks Current Tables at 11 am; and, low tide at 1 pm for the Victoria waterfront. In other words, good fishing from 11 am to 2:30 pm, the bite occurring after the low tide/current reversal. 

The gear was put out, on the port side, medium anchovy in a pearl teaser, with a glow green flasher, and a Coho Killer Splatterback, Purple Onion flasher on the starboard side. The port rod, most easily seen and adjusted from the captain’s seat, was put to 110 feet, and the other at 100. This way, only one downrigger ball hits bottom at a time, granting time to deal with it, but not two at the same time.

I typically fish this run on the 110 foot contour, erring a bit deeper, meaning aiming for 110 at the shallowest and 120 on the deepest. With braided line, the balls are much closer to counter depth than with thicker stainless cable. The gear was fishing properly at 10:45 am just off Clover Point, giving time to motor to Brotchie, turn and fish with the tide on the change.

Well, the flood had started earlier than expected, and a half hour into good fishing, the boat was still barely making ground on Clover, and wasting time, fishing into the tide. So, the gear was brought in, the boat moved to the breakwater side of Brotchie, and the gear once again put down.

The Brotchie Ledge reef is long and comes out at an angle to the eastward side of perpendicular with the shore. That means going over it shallow and dropping to water of 150 feet before angling in to shore. Before the next bit of structure, Holland Point, a narrow, canyon trough, the port rod popped from the downrigger, on the ebb side of Brotchie. The fish didn’t seem large until the surface, where it turned into a winter beauty of 14 lbs. While I considered filleting and farming out portions to various relatives, friends and hangers-on, the fish slowly came to net.

Head just entering the net, the next-second groaner was the treble getting caught in the web. And for several long, helpless seconds I watched, until the single ripped free, and the fish swam slowly away from my plans. The line was rebaited and put down, while the boat circled to Brotchie, then turned east toward Clover.

A small fish jiggled the port rod and, when retrieved, proved just short of a meal for two, and was jiggled from the hook, also to swim away from human plans. The boat turned and a White Lightning Coho Killer replaced the starboard spoon, its glow white looking very sexy. Then my pearl head decided the wire was too loosely rigged and refused to work, because a bit of tooth pick had become stuck in the front leader hole, until taken home and refashioned.

The bait replacement was a glow green teaser with anchovy, with flasher changed to Purple Onion. Seriously deep for my contour plan, a third fish popped the port rod, and on careful retrieval to the boat proved to be a ‘chunky’ 3- to 4-pound winter. Without using the net, I lifted the leader and fish into the boat, which I do commonly for fish of 8 pounds or less, only to find it slipped the hook, plopped into the water and etc.

The White Lightning spoon was replaced by a four foot leader to a glow-green and yellow teaser and bait. Then the long slide across the Flagpole ‘reef. This is a wide apron of mud, and so a downrigger sliding across it causes no damage, as long as the tackle is 8’ above the ball clip, to account for flasher revolution.

Surprisingly, the starboard rod came free of the release clip on the flood side of Clover, just before the bump for the Outfall. Halfway to the boat, the fish, the fourth bite, also came free, and a lot of expletives got released from my back deck where bait was reassigned and put back to 100 feet.

Several hundred yards to the east of Clover, a bump I had forgotten over the years, read on the depthsounder/GPS and then it was clear trolling across to Trial, where the GPS revealed a good wall a half mile out and perpendicular to the middle of the island. This was the end of the trip, short of the good rock a couple hundred yards to the west of Trial that often gives up a fish, and the boat roared back to the dock its captain empty handed and cheesed.

And of course it was of great amusement to my buddies at the gym the next day that of four bites, all four had been lost, on a day that the gods persecuted the fisher with a little too much bad luck. The good luck was four bites, meaning the gear and fishing strategy had been correct, and on a day when karma swings toward the human, a winter chinook or two may be coming home with him, meaning me.

I also had a chance to fish a couple of the slim spoons that can be so good these days. They are very light and it is not a good idea to lift a fish with the spoon as that bends the spoon and may destroy its fish-catching magic. Also, the hooks are diamond shaped, presumably to grant purchase on a jaw on a hook without a Kirb. On the other hand, these hooks rust, and have to be replaced, the issue being whether a Siwash or Octopus-style hook will leave the spoon unbalanced or not. But that’s a good reason to go out another time and, reacquainted with the run, do it again.