Topics
Bass Tactics
Polarized Fishing Glasses
Turneffe Flats, Belize
Calibaetis Hatch in Local Lakes
Why we love the Deschutes
Sandy Watershed

most productive part of the season, bass are active during peak water temperature periods. These are often periods when trout are least active. So fill in the dead time with bass. Peak water temperatures occur with peak sunlight when bass are most visible.  If the angler moves quietly, bass can often be fished at ranges of under 30'.   These conditions make sight fishing to bass very practical.  Obviously decreasing amounts of light or increasing amounts of turbidity or wind chop will limit the effectiveness of sight fishing.  Seeing has always been an art.  Seeing well takes curiosity, but also takes discipline.  The more you look, the more you will see.  Seeing can be enhanced optically.  In almost every situation, polarized glasses will improve your vision into the water.  

Your best presentations appeal to both the predatory and territorial facets of bass nature.  Placing the fly where it is most vulnerable or irritating to a bass is very important if you want to catch it.  Being able to place the fly in the perfect relation to the fish, demands that the angler be able to see the fish while the presentation is being made.  An experienced angler may study a bass for several minutes before the first cast is executed.  

A pair of precision ground polarized glasses is a priceless asset in this game.  Being able to watch your  quarry and see its reaction to your presentation is a great advantage.  Being able watch your bass is even more important if the angler is fishing subsurface with a slow moving fly.  Bass can suck in a fly and eject it so softly that it can be virtually impossible to feel the strike.  If you see the bass take the fly, then you will know when to set the hook.
 
(to be continued in 06/11  FFS Insider)                                                                                To Top

Why we love the Deschutes River

Brush and tall weeds surround me. The alders, which shaded me earlier, are now an obstruction to my back-cast. My eyes trace out the only possible trajectory for my fly line, which must be high over my left shoulder and between two of the trees. The forward cast must change direction in the air to align itself with the target. Since the line and the fly will land in water travelling at drastically different speeds, there will have to be a lot of slack in the leader. As I trace and retrace the path that the line must follow, my confidence falters. There is a brief search for alternatives. There are none.

Carefully, the leader is inspected and the 6X tippet is replaced with three feet of 5X. To its end is knotted a size #14 low floating Yellow Stone Fly - which was constructed complete with feelers, tails and flat Fly-Film wings. The colors, size, and shape matches the real ones hatching from the river. The fly is not dressed so that it will sink quickly as it enters the spill below the rock.

The leader and twenty feet of fly line are carefully coiled in my left hand. I raise the rod quickly with my right hand and "cross body" my back cast over my left shoulder. The coils feed out of my left hand as I shoot line into a high back cast which beyond all odds slices through the open space between the trees and hangs momentarily over the tall grass. The rod tip is then brought forward in a shallow arc and the forward loop sails out high over the water. The loop changes from vertical to horizontal with an upward the swing of the rod tip. An instant before the loop flows into the leader, I push a tiny amount of slack into the line and the cast dies in the air. The fly line lands on the water upstream form the fish, with the leader pointed downstream and the fly on a direct course to the center of the boil below the rock. There is a quick rush of air from my lungs, and the incredible tension from executing this impossible cast is suddenly gone.

The fly drifts a foot and then disappears in the spill. There is sudden movement in the slick below the rock; I raise the rod more by instinct rather than observation. The line comes instantly tight, and there is an explosion of water meeting the air as the giant caudal fin hurtles the fish into the raging current. The trout and my fly line are a blur as the white Dacron backing leaves my shrieking reel.

The huge trout launches himself into the air near the far shore and then races downstream into the eddy. Still he takes line, and the black felt marker stripe signals that fifty yards of backing have left the reel. Incredibly the fine leader holds against the pressure of the light rod and smooth drag.

The trout pauses, and then runs toward me and I reel frantically to maintain tension on the line so that the tiny barbless hook will stay embedded in the flesh. The trout shakes his head in angry violence and I ease off on the pressure slightly. He reverses his course and the reel spool, which is now small in diameter from loss of line, turns with unbelievable speed. The shiny black handle disappears in a blur. A red felt marker stripe signals that the reel is almost empty.

Again the trout pauses. There is no accounting for the luck. A few more yards and I will be out of line and he will break the light tippet. I must follow him. Immediately downstream, alders over-hanging the deep eddy block my path. The river bottom is mud and sticks. Off comes my vest and binoculars, which are tossed in the grass. I can barely feel the trout as I slide down the bank into the cool water. I am in the river over my shirt pockets, fighting my way through a raft of flotsam and midge shucks, which adhere readily to the fabric of my clothing and the hair on my chest. I reel myself down to the fish and gain some line. The alder branches hang nearly in the water. I fight my way through them as quickly as possible. My feet sink into the bottom and I finally emerge downstream of the alders in a muddy plume. I crawl up the bank, still maintaining pressure and gaining line back on to the reel. The fish is still far below me as the red marker stripe comes back onto the reel.

For a while the fish gives ground and I reel continuously until the black stripe is also on the reel. I am down stream fifty yards below the riffle.

I see my fish next as the backing knot comes into the rod guides. He is only a silvery-green blur deep in the clear water of the eddy. My heart jumps. . . he is larger than I had thought.

For a long time the fish stays deep and edges slowly upstream along the far shore. He bullies my light tackle with the force of the main current at mid-stream. The backing knot seesaws back and forth through the guides. There is a tremendous down-stream bow in my line, as the fish stays straight across the wide green river. Finally after many minutes the constant pressure takes its toll and the big trout starts to give ground. A few minutes more brings him to my hand.

He is a wondrous creature, subdued but still full of life. His body is deeper than my hand is long. I can barely close my fingers around the waist of his tail as I slide him into the shallow water. His black-spotted, olive colored back blends with the skimpy aquatic vegetation and sand. The rose colored gill plates pump rhythmically. His nose is long and pointed, but the lower jaw lacks the kipe of sexual maturity. All of his fins are in virgin condition. He has never spawned. The predominant male red stripe from whence his species got its name is but a faint glow of the ruby it will become. The pectoral fins contain this same red tinge. The ventral and anal fins are tipped with milky white. His lower sides are silver-amber. Every scale contains a sparkling mirror crescent. His muscles are hard to the touch.

 

Energy returns to this body and he starts to struggle, at first feebly. . .then with vigor. Compete equilibrium returns slowly. He is tired. I am tired, but relaxed as I turn him toward the river and he struggles free from my hand. His form dissolves into the green depths of the eddy. He is free again. And so am I. ~ Mark Bachmann~

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Sandy River Fishery Information Bank
Daily Fishing Report
Watershed Over-view
Sandy River Book
Biology Etc. 
Watershed Council Web Site

Want to escape the "trout madness" crowds in Central Oregon? 
Try the "COOL" side of the mountain.