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Leon Hanson Hexagenia limbata Fly Patterns
Notes and Tying Instructions by Robert H. Colson © 1987
The flies discussed below were designed by Leon Hanson of Plymouth, Michigan to imitate different stages of Hexagenia limbata for night-fishing on western Michigan trout streams such as the Pere Marquette, Manistee, Boardman, Pigeon, etc. Leon developed these patterns for fishing in the slow-moving, clear waters where large brown trout hunt the Hex during the first warm evenings of late June and early July. The choice of materials and tying techniques has evolved for the type of fishing where a wary trout gets a good look at the fly – realistic impressions are important in this type of fishing. The trout gets a view of the surface flies at night that is less disturbed by the dancing brilliance of the sun than during the day. Due to the relatively good view the trout gets of the fly on the surface the wing and body silhouette, color, size, and behavior are extremely important. These flies are designed to give excellent impressions of all these factors.
Nymphs:
The nymphs become active prior to hatches during the late afternoon and evening in late June and early July. They are good swimmers in the fairly quiet, mud and silt bottomed waters where they are found. To fish these nymphs, cast across and slightly downstream with an upstream mend in the fly line. As the current straightens the line, wiggle the rod slightly by tapping it. The idea with the mend is to sink the fly and then raise it to the surface as the fly line straightens. These nymphs are also one of the most consistent producers of Spring steelhead in the Pere Marquette, Little Manistee, and the Big Manistee Rivers. We tie these in a simpler version for Spring fishing in faster, higher water since so many are lost.
Spinners:
The spinners usually come back to the water to lay eggs after nightfall – usually between 11:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m. – during muggy evenings in late June and early July. The flies we will be tying represent the spent female with its extruded egg sac. Fish these spinners on a short, slack line. Sometimes it helps to give the fly a slight twitch. I usually scotch-guard these flies when I tie them and treat them with silicone floatant if needed at the stream.
Duns:
The duns typically hatch after the spinner fall, from midnight till 1:30 a.m. or later. The poly-bag wings can be clipped off these flies for a good still-born or emerger pattern. The hackle can be clipped in a V-shape underneath in order to get the fly to sit more flush in the surface film. The natural flies also struggle to dry their wings prior to flying off, so a slight twitch can be helpful in enticing a fish. These are my versions of Leon’s patterns. He ties them slightly differently, as does Peter Micol. We use them all pretty much interchangeably with no noticeable difference in results.
PATTERNS
This is a simplified version that does not utilize the after shaft feather or the bead chain eyes found in the dark recesses of Bob Colson's old fly boxes.
Nymph
Originator: Leon Hanson
Tied by: Bob Colsen
Materials:
Hook: 3906B #6, sharpened and flattened barb (or equivalent)
Thread: Danville 6/0 Yellow
Abdomen: Light natural brown rabbit strip, with cream hide, about one shank length long
Gills: After shaft feather from the base of a grouse or partridge feather tied to arch over the abdomen about ½ hook shank long
Thorax: Cream chenille or wool yarn
Back: Fox Squirrel tail tied over the thorax material – cut to 2 hook shanks in length
Eyes: Bead chain eyes, brass
Head: Thread
Tying Instructions:
1. Place hook in vise, sharpen the point and file or pinch down the barb.
2. Tie on yellow thread and attach the bead-chain eyes with figure eight winds about 1/8 inches behind the eye of the hook. Place some head cement on the wraps holding
down the bead-chain eyes.
3. Wrap the thread in even, close winds back to the bend of the hook.
4. Cut a piece from the rabbit strip by slicing the strip from the hide side with a scalpel or razor blade (be careful not to cut the fur itself). Taper one end of the hide strip
and serrate it minutely then tie this end down on the hook at the bend with the thread.
5. Select a feather from a partridge or grouse skin and cut off the bottom portion with the marabou after shaft feather attached. Tie this in so that the partridge after shaft
feather arches over the rabbit strip.
6. At the feather tie in point, tie in the chenille or yarn (or even cream colored dubbing).
7. Cut a small bunch of fox squirrel tail and tie it in with the tips stretched back over the rabbit strip and the other ends butting against the bead-chain eyes.
Then spiral your thread over the squirrel tail up to the bead-chain eyes. Place some head cement over the squirrel and wrap back to the point where the squirrel and the partridge
were tied in.
8. Wrap the thread and then the yarn or chenille up to the bead-chain eyes. Tie off the yarn or chenille and clip the excess.
9. Wrap the thread under the bead-chain eye to the front of the bead-chain eyes and create a base of thread over the bare hook, taking care to wrap over the place on the hook where
the hook eye is formed.
10. Pull the squirrel tail over the abdomen and between the bead-chain eyes and tie off and trim.
11. Create a neat, but substantial head, whip finish, and cement.
Spinner
Originator: Leon Hanson
Tied by: Leon Hanson
Materials:
Hook: 94840 #6, sharpened and flattened barb (or equivalent)
Thread: Danville 6/0 Yellow
Tails: Two segments of appropriately curved 6# or 8# Maxima brown cut to length – about 4 hook shank lengths
Abdomen: Gray, cream, or white poly yarn with a hole burned in it for tails to go through – about 1 ½ hook shank in length
Thorax: Pale yellow or cream dubbing wound on in large clumps
Wings: Light elk hair or deer hair from the body near the base of the tail. The hair needs to be thin and straight rather than that which is good for spinning
Head: Same dubbing as for thorax
Tying Instructions:
1. Place hook in vise, sharpen the point and file or pinch down the barb.
2. Tie on yellow thread at the head of the fly and create a thread base for the wing about ¼ inches from the eye of the hook.
3. Cut a bunch of hair, stack it if necessary, and trim to a length slightly longer than one hook shank.
4. Tie the prepared bunch of hair on top of the hook with a pinch wrap, being careful so that the hair does not spin, with the tips of the hair extending over the eye of the hook.
Bind down the tag end of the hair tightly so that the hair stays on top of the hook. Stand the hair up and divide it into two wings and pull the wings to the sides, flaring the hair
slightly.
5. Figure – eight and post the wings until they are in the position you desire. Place a drop of thinned cement over the wrappings.
6. Wrap the thread to the bend of the hook.
7. Take a piece of the poly yarn and comb the last 1 ½ inches of the yarn with your dubbing needle. The object is to have all the fibers straight. Place your bobbin cleaner or a needle
in the middle of the combed poly yarn with the tip of the bobbin cleaner or needle protruding slightly.
8. Hold this assembly in one hand with the needle tip and the tips of the poly yarn exposed, wet the tips of your thumb and forefinger of the other hand. With the hand that has the wet
fingers, rapidly pick up a butane lighter set on low flame and burn the end of the poly yarn. Just as it starts burning, drop the lighter and twist the softened poly yarn with
your wet fingers around the bobbin clearer or needle. Remove the bobbin cleaner or needle.
9. You have created a hole through which you will place the two Maxima mono segments arching up in a naturalistic manner.
10. Cut the poly yarn to about 1 ½ hook shank lengths. Place the Maxima pieces all the way to the butt end of the poly yarn and tie the whole assembly by the butt to the rear of the
hook shank where the thread is hanging creating an extended body of slightly less than one hook shank in length.
11. Wrap the thread back to the bend of the hook and place a loose clump of the pale yellow dubbing on top of the hook. Wrap around it causing it to be distributed loosely around the
area up to the wings.
12. Place a clump of the pale yellow dubbing on top of the wings and carefully wrap it around to cover the wing bindings and to form the head.
13. Finish the head with a whip finish. Do not cement. Spray the entire fly with scotch-guard.
Dun
Originator:
Leon Hanson
Tied by: Leon Hanson
Materials:
Hook: 94840 #6, sharpened and flattened barb (or equivalent)
Thread: Danville 6/0 Yellow
Tails: Two segments of appropriately curved 6# or 8# Maxima brown cut to length – about 4 hook shank lengths
Abdomen: Gray, cream, or white poly yarn with a hole burned in it for tails to go through – about 1 ½ hook shank in length
Thorax: Pale yellow or cream dubbing wound on in large clumps p; Blue dun tied in at hook bend, palmered, and cut in a V-shape on the bottom
Wings: Cut to shape from the edge of a zip-lock style poly bag
Head: Some dubbing as for thorax
Tying Instructions:
1. Place hook in vise, sharpen the point and file or pinch down the barb.
2. Tie on yellow thread at the head of the fly and create a thread base for the wing about ¼ inches from the eye of the hook.
3. Cut from the edge of a zip-lock poly bag a double segment wing which is shaped like one of the dun. Leave a short tag at the base of the wings which will facilitate tying it in.
Slice the tag so that the poly bag tag comes down on either side of the hook. Angle the wing backwards rather than straight up. The wing length should be about one hook shank.
4. Wrap the thread to the bend of the hook.
5. Take a piece of the poly yarn and comb the last 1 ½ inches of the yarn with your dubbing needle. The object is to have all the fibers straight. Place your bobbin cleaner or a needle
in the middle of the combed poly yarn with the tip of the bobbin cleaner or needle protruding slightly.
6. Hold this assembly in one hand with the needle tip and the tips of the poly yarn exposed, wet the tips of your thumb and forefinger of the other hand. With the hand that has the wet
fingers, rapidly pick up a butane lighter set on low flame and burn the end of the poly yarn. Just as it starts burning, drop the lighter and twist the softened poly yarn with your wet
fingers around the bobbin clearer or needle. Remove the bobbin cleaner or needle.
7. You have created a hole through which you will place the two Maxima mono segments arching up in a naturalistic manner.
8. Cut the poly yarn to about 1 ½ hook shank lengths. Place the Maxima pieces all the way to the butt end of the poly yarn and tie the whole assembly by the butt to the rear of the hook
shank where the thread is hanging creating an extended body of slightly less than one hook shank in length.
9. Wrap the thread back to the bend of the hook and tie in the hackle.
10. Tie in the hackle by its butt end.
11. Place a loose clump of the pale yellow dubbing on top of the hook. Wrap around it causing it to be distributed loosely around the area up to the wings.
12. Place a small clump of pale yellow dubbing between the wings to spread them slightly.
13. Place a clump of the pale yellow dubbing on top of the hook shank in front of the wings to form the head.
14. Palmer the hackle through the thorax seating the stem carefully in the dubbing and tie it off at the head.
15. Finish the head with a whip finish. Do not cement. Spray the entire fly with scotch-guard.
16. For a lower riding fly cut the hackle in a V-shape on the bottom of the fly.
Fly by Night Adventures on the Pere Marquette
by Robert H. Colson
(a work of fiction to protect the truly obsessed)
The Pere Marquette River between the forks where the mainstream is formed and its confluence with Baldwin Creek is deceptive in its size and power. Thought it looks small, the current rushes over pea-gravel bottoms into the high clay banks, doubling the swift, clear water back on itself in numerous oxbows. Knee deep water plummets to your chest when you wade only a few feet. Cedars and tag alders line the high banks, and many have fallen into the stream over the years, creating back eddies and sub-currents. Pools are formed at each oxbow and generations of stream improvements have left a heritage of man-made log woodworks holding the bank where the stream tumbles into the high banks. Many of the deadfalls have been swept into the slower waters of these pools and form the natural prime lies of America’s oldest brown trout. The Brown trout came to the Pere Marquette in 1894 from the original stocks sent to America. There were to be stockings in Michigan and New York from those original eggs, but a disease destroyed the New York eggs so the Pere Marquette tributary Baldwin Creek stockings were the first for Brown trout in the Americas.
In the silt beds on the still lee side banks of the Pere Marquette live the nymphs of the Hexagenia limbata, or Giant Michigan Mayfly. These nymphs dig into the soft silt and live in their burrows by drawing oxygenated water for their gills and food for their nutrition through their tunnel homes. Their lives are uneventful until dislodged by a poorly placed foot, a freshet, or the urges of natural maturity to swim to the surface, shed nymphal skins, and emerge as the largest of the Mayfly duns. These nymphs have bodies that measure up to two inches in length. Their underbodies on the Pere Marquette are pale yellow and their backs are mottled brown. The nymphs have prominent grey gills over the middle third of their abdomen and large heads. When they swim, their gills flair up, their legs are drawn in, and their bodies wiggle characteristically. Locally they’re called “wigglers” and are favorites with the bait fishermen.
In late June and early July, the nymphs swim to the surface and emerge at night as adult duns. They dry their wings and fly off to the cedars where they undergo one additional molt to sexual maturity and return two to four nights later in spinner flights to lay eggs and die. Later in the night a new batch of duns will emerge to start the process over. The duns are pale yellow on the underside of their abdomens and thorax shading to a pale olive-yellow on their backs. They have two long tails that along with their abdomens they carry arched above the surface of the water. Their wings are slightly shorter than their bodies and are slanted backwards at a 45 degree angle from the back part of the thorax. The spinners have even longer tails, large hyaline wings that deflate at death to lie sprawled on the water, and abdomens that are clear since they are no longer colored by the pale yellow of the eggs showing through.
The significance of the Hex hatch (local fishermen call it the Michigan Caddis hatch) is that it brings the large Brown trout out from the cover of the undercut banks and deadfalls to feed with relative abandon on the spent spinners and later the emerging duns. In the Pere Marquette above the Baldwin, this is virtually the only time of year that a fly fisher hopes to catch a really large brown trout on the surface. The drawback is that the action occurs at night where the angler is at a great disadvantage on a fast-flowing, densely covered stream such as the Pere Marquette. It was night time during the second week of July. Leon was bank scouting the Pere Marquette’s pools and runs above the Baldwin. He moved quietly, without rod or waders along the bank, listening to the fishermen on the stream. He catalogued where a fisherman lost a large fish and where he heard large fish rise to a Hex. As part of his catalog he placed a small piece of fluorescent tape to a tree trunk near where the fish had been touched or heard. Numbers on the piece of tape were cross-referenced to his stream notes. Leon was hunting large trout that night, trying to find fish that had been raised or lost but, especially, trying to find fish rising where there were no fishermen. He would repeat this night-time reconnaissance on both of the following nights.
During the day he would return and study the water where he had catalogued large fish. This time he wore his waders so he could explore the lie of the trout. In particular, he was paying attention to the drift lanes – where a large trout would position itself to take best advantage of how the current would sweep spent spinners to it. Were the drift lanes far enough from the Brown trout’s beloved cover to make a drift possible? Could he make a cast in the dark to the fish and control the drift adequately to make a natural presentation? Was there space for a backcast? Was there suitable water nearby for him to fight the fish, or would it dive immediately into a snarl of logs and break his tippet? Could he get into the water and move up or down with the fish in that location? Were there deep holes? If he had to cross over, how could he mark the crossing places? All these variables he noted for each located fish on the first two days of his reconnaissance.
By the third day he had isolated the fish he planned to stalk. That day he took his rod with him to fine tune his strategy and technique. When he arrived at the small pool he studied it again to imprint on his memory all the features he had already noted. The pool was small, formed at a slight bend of the river. The far bank was deeply undercut with a fallen tree wedged into the log bank footings. This undercut bank Leon knew was the home of a large brown trout. He had chosen this particular trout for several reasons. First, he had heard it feed the past two nights and it sounded huge. Second, on one had fished this pool for the past three nights. He planned to fish it that night. Third, the main current tongue that carried the Hex spinners tailed out ten feet below the logjam and that was where the trout had been stationed the past two nights. Fourth, there was a bend in the river immediately upstream so that he could make a short, down-and-across cast by using the open area above the stream for his backcast. Fifth, Leon felt sure that if the fish took, he could rush at it and scare it away from its lair into the deep, snagless pool just downstream where he stood a better chance of playing it. If he could keep it from running the length of the open run below the pool, he felt sure he could land it. There was also a small cove on his side of the pool in which to beach the fish.
He set up his rod and simulated the fishing strategy and technique he would use later that night. He stripped off the amount of line he would need and practiced the cast repeatedly, observing carefully the way his large Hex spinner fly reacted in the currents to different placements. He tried different tippet materials and strengths to make sure that he had the strongest possible tippet to give him the best float. He re-tapered his leader until it suited him perfectly. Finally, he tied a ring of fly-tying thread to the fly line and fixed it with a drop of cement so that he could tell by feel exactly how much line he needed out. As he started to leave, he stopped and took his bearings. He lined up a prominent limb of the fallen snag with the spike of a pine on the opposite bank so that he could return to that exact location. Before he left that spot he cast several more times, willing his arm and wrist muscles to memorize the precise motions that would give him the float he desired.
Then he practiced the fight. Fish on! He set the hook, stripped slack, and rushed downstream while dropping his rod low and to the downstream side. Good thing he had practiced this. Remember to step over rather than stumble over the root protruding from the bank on his side and make sure he didn’t get the rod or line caught in the tag alders that swept over the river just to the right of where he would be moving quickly later that night. He replayed the scene again in his imagination, and practice the downstream dash so it would be second nature to him in the dark.
Satisfied, he left the stream to make sure that his gear was set for that evening’s hunt. First he stripped the line from his reel and tested the knot holding the backing to the arbor. Then he carefully would the backing on in even coils so that it wouldn’t slip or tangle if the fish ran hard into the backing. Big Browns usually don’t run long and hard like big rainbows, but he wanted to be sure. He retied the know connecting the fly line and the backing. After cleaning his line, making sure not to disturb the thread marking the proper casting distance, he carefully rebuilt his leader to match the one he had designed earlier, testing each knot several times. In the end of his leader he tied a loop. He also prepared six tippets and tied three spinners and three duns to one end of each and a loop in the other end. These snelled flies he carefully wrapped on safety pins inside his cap so they would be easy to get to without the aid of a light. He wanted to avoid shinning a light which he feared would spook the trout. He practiced looping the two loops together with his eyes closed for several minutes to reeducate his fingers to work without his eyes.
This reminded him that he had forgotten to practice casting that afternoon with his eyes shut to accustom himself to placing the fly where he wanted without the aid of his vision. Mentally kicking himself for this lapse, he determined that he would go early to the stream and practice that evening. It was at that moment that he realized how excited he was. He had been burying his excitement in the details of preparation. He savored his feelings for a moment. This was an extremely large brown trout. Not just a big trout, but a trout of a lifetime – maybe even a ten pounder. Surely a stream bred fish, too. It was just too far from Lake Michigan to be a lake run fish. The nerves along his back twitched involuntarily to register his suppressed excitement. There was still an hour until twilight when Leon worked his way back to the stream. He breathed a sigh of relief to find that no other fisherman was in his spot. He really hadn’t expected anyone else to be there, but the reality reassured him. He gigged up just like he would be rigged to fish later on and spent twenty minutes casting with his eyes shut. At first, he was slightly disoriented, catching one of his backcasts on a tag alder. He calmed himself and gained confidence as his practice session wore on. With excitement starting to well up within him, he left the stream. Taking his camera downstream to where he planned to land the fish he hung it where h could find it easily and placed a 30 inch log in an open area of shallow water in the cove where he planned to land the fish. If he was lucky, he would take a photo of the fish and return it to its home.
Walking back upstream to where he had left his rod in the waning sunlight he suddenly remembered a host of thing he had forgotten to do. He checked his hooks and resharpened them all and pinched the barbs down just a little further. He wanted quick and deep penetration and know that the lightest dullness in the hook would lessen his chances. He heard a movement and glance up – a group of deer were moving away from him in the gloaming. The night was settling around him and he know that it would be less than 90 minutes before the spinners returned and the final stages of his three day stalk would begin. He stripped off the line from his reel and pulled it through the guides until the thread was at its place just at his finger tip. He checked his knots one last time and nestled the fly in the bridge of the stripping guide where he would release it before casting. He settled slowly to take his position in the river as the twilight ended and the night fell.
It was warm and slightly overcast, but not overly humid. This was a good night for the spinners to return. He recalled briefly the many nights he had stood waiting for the spinner flights that never hit the water. One night a flight had hovered 30 feet over the water and then returned to the cedars – it had been too cold. Another night a wind had come up and the spinners had been blown downstream and never came down where he was fishing. Tonight, however, looked perfect.
Around 11:15 he was aware of disturbance overhead. A few stars were out and the cloud cover was thin so the sky was brighter than the dark tree-laden banks of the river. Looking up, he could see a horde of large mayflies silhouetted against the sky. In a few moments they would begin their egg laying and would soon after float downstream, struggling feebly to where the Brown should be feeding.
Leon waited. He noticed a few spinners on the water. He watched several float by. One or two got trapped against his thigh in the water and he scooped them up gently to observe their fragile beauty. He was waiting for the trout to show itself, to feed confidently several times, hopefully in the exact spot where he had pinpointed it the past two nights. He waited for 45 minutes, ears straining for the sound of the feeding Brown trout. Nothing. Nothing. Only the whisper of a slight breeze in the trees was to be heard. He jumped involuntarily when several mayflies flew into his face. One he inhaled into his mouth when he turned his head. It took him several seconds to spit it out. He resisted the temptation to leave the river to get the can of Pepsi on the bank. The dusty taste slowly faded from his mouth.
Suddenly he heard a shout from upstream. Someone had a fish on. It sounded like it came from two bends up. He silently prayed that the lucky fisherman would land it well upstream or lose it. The memory of losing a night’s fishing the year before because another angler came through his pool with a fish on still rankled in him. He listened intently to the progression of the upstream battle. The fish was dropping downstream and he could hear two anglers just above the bend that would have hid them from view in the daytime. He sighed with relief when he heard their jubilation from above when they brought the fish to net. He offered a short prayer of thanksgiving that the fight had ended above him. “Now, just get out of the river and walk quietly along the bank,” he entreated aloud to the night air around him. Just as he said “out” he though he heard a sipping noise; or was it simply the echo of his own words. He strained his hearing intently, concentrating on the area of the stream where he expected to find the fish.
A movement and slight noise behind him on the bank broke his concentration. “How’re you doing?, queried a soft voice behind him. Leon could tell there were two of them. They were probably the two who had just landed the fish upstream. “Nothing yet,” he replied. “How about you?” “Just landed this one,” said the voice. “Jim got it,” said a second voice. “A lovely 20 inch Brown. Big spots, yellow belly. Beautiful fish! Do you want to see it?”
Though Leon really wanted them to leave, fly fishing etiquette required him to acknowledge their catch. “Sure,” he replied. “Great fish,: he said when they held it up some distance back from the bank and shoe a light on it briefly. He wished they hadn’t shinned the light, but they had done it discreetly and he was confident that the water where he thought he had heard the sipping was left undisturbed. He wanted them to leave, but he didn’t want to give away the fact that he had spotted a fish. If the fish didn’t rise that night, Leon wanted another shot the following night. He knew that etiquette wouldn’t keep these two from trying to beat him to this spot. “See you around,” he said.
“Good luck!” whispered the two successful anglers as they silently departed along the bank. “We’re going to find on for Tom.” Leon could hear them moving quietly, talking lowly about where they could go to get the other half of their partnership into a good fish.
Leon returned his attention to the river and waited. He had been in the water for over two hours and had not made a cast. It was after midnight and if the cloud cover didn’t hold the moon would be up soon and create too much light for this fishing. The spinner fall was also coming to an end. Leon hadn’t seen one come floating by or in the air for a quarter hour. Would the duns emerge? He’d give it another thirty minutes. If they did emerge, would the old trout leave its lie and feed in the drift lanes below the snag?
His concentration was beginning to fade when he heard the sound which quickened his blood. He had been straining for a sip and this was like a hog falling in a puddle. It scared him. At first he thought it was a beaver, but when the sound hit him a second time he was read and he knew it was his fish, feeding without caution on the emerging duns. He waited for one more rise and was preparing himself to cast when he remembered that he still had the spinner on his tippet. He snipped it off at the tippet loop and took a snelled dun from the right side of his cap (spinners left, duns right) and looped the tippet and the leader loops together in the dark with practiced fingers. The fish rose one more time.
He felt for the thread indicator on the line. It was just where it should be. He unkinked the leader and tippet and let the line and fly trial downstream. He lined up the pine and snag branch and crisply brought the backcast backhand over his left shoulder. On the forward cast, he mended the line in the air with an outward loop of the cane tip just line he had practiced so the fly settled above the fish on a slack line. Leon imagined the fly skating across the currents as it had done in the daytime and prepared himself to set the hook when he could see in his mind’s eye that it was at the fish. Nothing. Two more drifts. Nothing.
Had he scared the fish? Put it down? He’d rest it a few minutes. Again, a loud confident rise to an emerging dun reassured Leon that the fish was still on the feed. Maybe the fly wasn’t quite right. He fumbled for the fly in the dark and found his scissors. He cut a v-shape by feel from the bottom of the hackle so the fly would ride lower in the water. He trimmed the poly-bag wing and pulled it back to make it ride lower on the body and clipped back slightly the long monofilament tails. He cast it out again, following the drift in his memory. This time, though, just above the feeding lie of the trout, he made the fly flutter on the surface. The response was immediate! Fish on! Set the hook, drop the rod low and downstream, strip in the line, and rush downstream. Step over that root. Keep the rod tip out of the tag alders. Keep pressure on that fish. Surprise him. Force him into the deep pool before he knows what happens. Get yourself between him and the snag-ridden, undercut bank he calls home. Don’t let him go there.
To his amazement, all worked as he had planned. He had the fish in the big pool where he stood a good chance of wearing it out. He stood in the stream where he could keep the fish from moving comfortably back to its lair. The fish was sulking at the bottom of the pool. Leon hadn’t really felt its power yet, so he placed more pressure on the fish. It didn’t want to move at first. But then it did, it made a strong upstream run to return to its lair. Leon foresaw this tactic and positioned himself to keep the fish in the pool. The fish turned back and began a downstream run through the deep pool and into the run downstream. Lean had hoped it wouldn’t do this. He eased off the pressure and let the fish run against the lightest whisper of the check. Feeling the pressure off, the fish turned in a small pocket and faced upstream, content that the rod pressure was off and breathing more easily now that it faced upstream.
Leon breathed more easily, too, because he knew he would have been unable to follow the fish far on a long downstream run alone in the dark. He was glad he hadn’t scared the fish with too much pressure on the downstream run. It hadn’t bolted. Now his problem was to move it back up to the big pool. He held his rod low so the tip was parallel to the water and started slowly to walk upstream. The fish came along with the slow, even, steady pull. Leon stopped and walked downstream, recovering the gained line as he walked. He repeated his process several times until the fish was back I the deep pool. The fish made another upstream run, but it was tiring, and Leon was able to turn it and bring it closer to his bank with rod pressure. Soon the fish was just opposite him, tiring to hold deep in the water but tiring. Pressure from the rod could lift the fish to the surface where it circled and tried to dive with its head down. Leon head the rod steady, put a nice arc in the bamboo and waked backward In the bathtub size cove where he planned to beach the fish. At first it resisted, but on the third try, it swam itself aground and Leon pounced on it, gently placing it next to the 30 inch log he had propped in the shallow water by the camera for a reference point.
He stroked the fish lightly, being careful not to disturb its protective slime as it lay in the inc-deep water by the log. The harsh, bright light from his camera flash brightened the woods momentarily. Before the stars from the flash faded from his eyes Leon had the great Brown trout back I the water, holding it gently facing the current and exercising it back and forth to revive it with oxygenated water flowing through its gills. Shortly the Brown gave a shiver and a wiggle. Leon released it from his grasp and it swam slowly from the bank into the depths of its home. He lost sight of it in his light when he turned suddenly to look at what made a rustling sound. Nothing. It must have been the breeze in the trees. The photograph came out beautifully. The Brown was almost as long as the log. The harsh light from the flash didn’t do justice to the beautiful creamy yellow belly and dark olive of its back,but Leon’s memory served him well from the brief moment he had played his flashlight over this wonderful fish. The great red spots, bigger than quarters, came out ture, even redder and larger than in Leon’s memory. It had to be at least nine pounds. A beautiful Brown. A Brown trout of a lifetime! Hunted, stalked, taken, and released! The ultimate sport.
Leon learned four days later that his Brown weighed 9 pounds 11 ounces. A photo at the local tackle shop showed a happy pair of anglers, each holding a trophy trout. The big one was twice the size of the small one. Leon recognized Jim holding his 20 inch Brown and Tom hefting the fish that belonged to the river.
©1987 Robert H. Colson -- reprinted with permission
I wish to thank Bob Colson for taking the time to dig out old flies and
dust off memories of decades ago to allow this bit of fly tying history
to be preserved.
© 2009 Bruce E Harang
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