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Saturday, April 29, 2006
Fly-fishing fun begins this coming month as
mayfly hatch commences
Copyright © 2006 Blethen Maine Newspapers Inc. | ||||
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As the month begins, predictable mid-morning and afternoon aquatic-insect hatches come off daily and near month's end, different bugs emerge in the evening. Warming water slows daylight hatches down nearer June, but for many of us, when the six-legged invertebrate activity continues from morning to dark, it produces 20 to 30 trout and bass days. Through this whole exciting time, success begins with a three-step approach: 1) Observe exactly what insect species interests the fish, 2) match an artificial to the natural in size, color and silhouette and 3) present the imitation in such a way as to match it to the real McCoy. In this latter category, that step usually means having the fly float on the surface or in the current below with a dead drift like most naturals. Sometimes, though, insects swim with 2- or 3-inch bursts of energy, interrupted by stopping for a split second between movements. If a real bug behaves that way, the angler must duplicate it. When folks dead-drift a dry fly, it must float at the exact same speed as the current. Look at a fleck of foam or leaf beside the feather-and-fur creation and make certain they are moving together. If the artificial is going slightly faster or slower, which is called a subtle "drag," then a trout or salmon will be reluctant to strike. Fly rodders call this difference in velocity "drag" because the line or leader is impeding the natural drift by dragging the fly faster or slowing it down. If someone is fishing a nymph, make sure the strike indicator or nail knot is drifting in tune with the flow, which means the submerged fly is probably moving naturally, too. Most people can see drag when the fly makes a V-shape wake in the water, but subtle drag turns fish off just as quickly. When a caster changes position just a step or two or five, it often eliminates drag. In early May, an absolute favorite, central-Maine insect hatch goes by the colloquial names "red quill" or "Hendrickson" and describes a mayfly that begins emerging around 2 p.m. and ends about 5 p.m. You can almost set your watch by these times, particularly the starting one. The male has two primary wings, six legs and three tails that are medium gray and a mahogany-colored, slender body, and the female sports the same legs, wings and tails color scheme and chunkier primrose-yellow body with a pink tinge. A size 12 or 14 dry-fly hook matches the size. A Red Quill imitates the male and a Hendrickson the female. These two flies yield the spring's first consistent dry-fly action. People sometimes call fly fishers "elitists" and make comments about the expense of the sport, which brings up the most salient point best described by a quick digression. Yesterday, I was looking at boat ads in a newspaper, and a 14-foot, V-hull boat without a motor cost $4,495. This is the most basic of fishing boats with three seats. Compared to outfitting a fly fisher with waders, that figure is a pile of money. You could set up your spouse and self in the best fly-fishing gear and waders on the market for far, far less than five grand. In short, if you bought this boat, oars and the cheapest bait-fishing gear imaginable to fish for carp, it would still cost far more than taking up fly-fishing. So, if price measures degree of elitism, carp fishing from a boat ranks as being more hoity-toity than fly-fishing for trout. If you have always wanted to fly-fish, this is a grand year to start. Just get out and do it. For folks used to bait fishing, fly-fishing comes naturally because drifting a worm is so similar to floating flies naturally. If you like the sport, sign up for a fly-fishing school at someplace like L.L. Bean, which will jump start you into the sport three to five years. In the winter, sign up for a fly-tying course at a fly shop or local high school to meet like-minded folks. n n n When I was a kid, growing up in Windsor, no one in my family or circle of acquaintances fly-fished. At the tender age of five, though, I got into it in the oddest way when an uncle bought me an inexpensive fly-rod outfit that included a hollow bamboo, three-piece rod with a reel, fly line, leaders, gaudy flies and strike indicators -- all in a wooden box. Like most rural kids, my fishing life with the outfit began with worms. David Brann, of Windsor, and I spent many halcyon days on Choate Brook, which runs into the West Branch of the Sheepscot. We chased brook trout in season, hornpout, suckers, chubs -- or you name it. In those early years, I kept dabbling with flies instead of bait -- just out of pure laziness because it was easier using flies than digging worms. However, the main Sheepscot as well as the West Branch would make a fly rodder out of me. In May when mayflies hatched, trout and salmon ignored worms and concentrated on floating insects. That forced me to become a dry-fly fisher. No one showed me how, either. It was just experimenting and the occasional magazine article that taught me the way. In my adult life, it began to dawn on me why fly-fishing had captured me quite so completely. When insects are hatching big time, fish feed heavily. Wind direction, moon phase, air pressure, water temperature (to a certain degree) and angle of the stars mean nothing. Trout strap on feedbags and rods stay bent for those with the right fly and presentation. The fish are biting because food is so available. Folks will really see that rule this month so forget yard work and family obligations. It's May in Maine and fishing is the thing. Ken Allen writes is a writer, editor and photographer living in Belgrade Lakes, Maine. You can reach him at KAllyn800@aol.com. |
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