We drove east Thursday, arriving at the ranch early afternoon. We intended to take Elsa fishing with Amy's dad Friday on my favorite small water, but being that Amy and Elsa weren't feeling 100% Steve and I did the only thing a compassionate father can - we went without them.

We left the ranch just after lunch, and after the 40 minute drive rigged up and hiked up river. The temp was in the low 80's, the sun was glaring, and I was itching to throw a line.



I was hoping to catch the tail end of the golden stone hatch, and while there were plenty of golden shucks on the banks I didn't see any of the big bugs in the air. Of course, the trout were still keyed in on them, and for the better part of the afternoon I just fished a yellow stimulator with a pheasant tail dropper.



This river is wonderful pocket water, so I focus on casting just in front of or behind structure, and usually you get a take. I have a few preferred spots, one being a series of pools following two car sized boulders. On the lower pool I had a nice redside grab the dry and head to deep water.

Using light 6x tippet, I play the trout for a minute or so, not wanting to be too aggressive in reeling him in, when my 3 weight suddenly doubles over and line rapidly starts spooling out. Again, I try and ease the trout in, but when I get him up to the surface I am surprised to see my 12" redside being mauled by a bull trout easily 18" in length, maybe more. He's got him just behind the gills, and is just thrashing violently.

Now I am thinking to myself - how can I land both? The bull sees me and, trout still in his mouth, heads back to the deeper water behind the large boulder. Putting light pressure on the line, I again coax both up to the surface. Slowly, I work both to the shallow water and am preparing to try and tail the bull when, in about 6 to 8 inches of water just a few feet in front of me, he let's go...

I pull in the poor redside; he's not in too bad of shape, a little bruised, but I slowly revive him in the cool shallow water, and he finally swims off.

I reel in, sit down, and laugh. I've had big bows chase and nip at smaller trout on my line, but nothing like this.





The rest of the afternoon was blissful, continuing to throw dries to eager redsides. We finally packed it in around 5, walking back to the rig and driving back into town to meet Amy and Elsa for dinner.



scott

It was a tough decision - the Salmon fly hatch is starting to roll on the Lower D, but the river has been running high and crowds are not my thing. However, if you hit it right, the hatch will put a smile on your face that will last for weeks.

But, did we want endure the high water and massive crowds?

Kevin and I opted for a more relaxed day, and hit the Metolius. Rumor had it that the green drakes were close, and quite honestly a day spent throwing the 4 weight around sounded perfect.



We rolled into Camp Sherman late morning, grabbed few green drake emergers from the Camp Sherman store, and headed down river. While there were a fair number of people around, most seemed to be hiking the river or preparing for a wild weekend at the Sisters Rodeo. We had the river to ourselves for the majority of the day.





We picked our way downriver, throwing dries and small nymphs through seams and along the brushy, undercut banks. It all looked fishy, but despite several takes neither of us managed a trout to hand.





We gradually worked our way down to Wizard Falls, where we finally encountered a few other anglers camped around the Dolly Hole for last light. Despite a few green drakes out and about, the hatch never really materialized and the fish were definitely not keying on them.

Just gives me an excuse to get back over here...



scott

I fished this coastal river last Sunday, the day after it opened, and despite pouring rain and chilly temps I had an absolute blast. So much so that I couldn't wait to head out of work early Friday and do the same that afternoon.

This time, though, I swapped the 2 weight for the 0 weight and brought my camera.

Armed with a size 14 parachute adams and a size 16 pheasant tail dropper, I moved my way down river and cast behind every rock and log, drifted my flies through foam lines and behind riffles.

While I didn't see the prolific pale evening duns hatching as I did the previous weekend, there was decent numbers of smaller tan caddis and what I believe to be Pale Morning Dun spinners.

The river is only open for another week and a half, so I'll see if I can sneak one more day in before it closes for the season.