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Post Info TOPIC: One fly part 2


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One fly part 2
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So we did the 5 flies you would fish, what about species?   And for this one you only get one pick.....caddis, may, stone, midge, leech, toad, squirrel, whatever your fav but you only get one pick. 



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This week the species would be the egg! They really should be illegal to use.

If you mean bugs, the Hexagenia mayfly hatch and fishing is the best! Every fish in the area will start rising to the Hex bugs struggling on the water to dry their wings!

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chris


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Nice Otter, not only going with mayfly but the exact one and biggest of them the Hex.  Sweet.



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I would pick caddis because they are a more robust species than mayflies and are in every river system that trout inhabit and even in many lakes.  At this point, they may be the most predominant insect in the water based on overall biomass.  Also, while otter gets to party for a month, I have a shot at catching trout year round.wink



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My favorite bugs are stoneflies, All of the species.



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Nice Shon was waiting for someone to jump on the Stonefly.  They are definitely my favorite to tie, rubber legs, yuk bugs, golden's.  I would have to say caddis though for my pick.  Free living, case building,  underwater swimming,  net spinning, maybe a golden stone trying to eat me while a trout is, caddis fly.  Tough pick once again just like picking your 5 favorite kids. confuse 



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Would have to be a sculpin or other baitfish!!!! Who doesn't like a big tug...on the end of your line..every now and again!!!!



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"Three-fourths of the Earth's surface is water, and one-fourth is land. It is quite clear that the good Lord intended us to spend triple the amount of time fishing as taking care of the lawn." - Anon.


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Ok you guys are cheating!! You are taking the whole family of the species. it is like using beads on big bad ass fish... The mayfly wins.
Look you have the BWO, PMD, Big Yellow may, Isonychia, Callibaetis, Pink Albert, All the drakes, The flav, the mahogany dun, the trico, the march brown, PEDs. I win the mayfly rules.

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chris


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Hahahaha you do win.biggrin  Man I thought I had some caddis rep in my post.  So when is your mayfly tying book coming out?



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I tie my mayfly book is already out . ya wanna buy one or two. $$$

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Already got the cliff notes version.biggrin



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Let's be real you guys know I stole patterns from both of you... The blue midge oops. The whitish yellow caddis mayfly. It is so much fun to create crazy flies that work. If they work on Putah remember they will usually crush fish on those easy waters like the East Walker. I also stole the best flies ever from the guys at Fly fishing unlimited. You know them they are great guides. RJ, Jason Lozano, Big John Cal Alaska, and Toby. No need for a book. Keep it all secret....

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chris


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I'm cutting you off from the Bud lights.  You're obviously hallucinating....we all know blue midges don't exist.  Some people will try anything to catch a fish, sheesh!no



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Isonychawhateia? Calibitahuh?

 

Damn, I just like to go fishing.  To think I even took an entemology class as Humboldt state back in 1988 makes my head spin.

I prefer the little green ones, brown ones, black ones etc etc.    But never forget the neon oranges and all their hughes.................which leads to a short story about the Yuba in the Winter of 91/92?

 

A fishing buddy of mine hired a guide for a half day on the Yuba.  The guide set him up with black ap's and a LOT of weight.  If memory serves me right, he landed 3 fish and had a great time.  Well, as we all know, thoes fish on the Yuba are like firecrackers and we were hooked.  We made at least one trip a week, hiking above the bridge and visiting Leo and his air horn (thats a different story) and always managed to hook up to 4 fish each.

Later that season I went up with a group of high school buddies.  Now Aaron, he had this saying "heh, Danny, how about one of them flies?".  The funny thing about Aaron was he didn't tie, so the saying was pretty consistent; first thing upon arrival and whenever he snagged up and broke off.  Well as luck would have it, Aaron's terminal point of contact became too friendly with something subsurface, and "snap"

Now Danny is pretty darned quick and halfway through the proverbial "hey, Danny.....", Aaron was handed an Apricot Supreme on about a size 16 scud hook.  A few minutes later Aarons bobicator thingy shot sideways and he set the hook into one of the Yuba wonders of the world.

Hmmmm?  Bobicator?  Glow bug?  WEIGHT!

Well, it was getting later in the day and we eventually hauled our sore butts back to the trucks and headed home.  I would have never guessed but less than 5 minutes in the door I get a phone call from my fishing buddy.  "How did you do?"  I knew he wasn't going to believe me so I just blurted out twelve.  Now I can still picture him on the other end just giggling away as he said "yeah sure, how'd you do?"

It took me another 15 minutes to convince him that a trip the following morning was in order though he still thought I was full of it, though giddyness is hard to hide so he had to be sure.  The following morning we were working our way up a little ways past the foundation when we ran into team Orvis.  Well not an actual team, more like an army of one.

Picture a fine elderly gentleman walking up the river. Orvis hat, Orvis vest, Orvis rod   welll you get the picture  though to be honest it might have been a Sage or some other brand.  Bottom  line is it was all nice gear.  This fine gentleman runs into two clowns with "stuff".  He looked at me and did his best at being distinguished.  Glancing down at my white converse high top wading shoes then resting his guaze on my Long's drugstore rod and reel he chimed in "Any luck?"

My buddy and I just looked at each other and started giggling like two little school girls being asked to dance for the first time at the prom.  His response was along the lines of "I've picked up a couple on a  calliabeatus huh whatchamakalit?"  Ah, he ment that little fly with the sparkly green stuff.  "What about you two?"  Another quick glance between my buddy and I brought on more giggles before we had to ask each other, almost as if I our new found river friend wasnt there.  "What do you think Kev?  70 or so?"  "yeah that sounds about right"  We looked back at this fine gentlemen and proudly proclaimed about 70 fish to hand so far.

Without so much as another word, well it was kind of a disgruntled something or another, he just walked on past and never looked back.  Now Kev and I, we were just a little dumbstruck but it finally sunk in "he didn't believe us!"  Well there was a lot of fish left to catch in that river so upwards we marched.

We didn't make it back to the old Hammond bridge until just after dark.  Crossing the river just upstream from the bridge was an interesting adventure but other than a little spillage we were fine. (yes way back then everybody hiked up on the Smartville side of the bridge).  Trudging up to the roadbed on top of the bridge we found no other than team orvis.  It seems he had regrouped with the rest of his team members as it was no longer an army of one.

Now we were two happy go lucky stumbled on to the mother of all goodness in trout fishing bumbs that just liked to be friendly and social so we stoped for a short chat, but were met with some funny looks and odd quiet.  Could it have been our gear?  I know the felt that I glued onto the bottom of my tennis shoes um er wading boots had come partially off and floped around like a wet dogs tongue on a hot summer day but it was getting dark, surely they hand't noticed that.  I don't think they had flipped any of it's moistend goodness up at them either, after all it was a full day of catching and we were tuckered out and moving rather slow.

Kev chimed in as I pondered the moment "well, how did you guys do?"  Mr. Orvis was the only one to actually talk, "not too bad but no 70 fish" the rest of the team seemed to chuckle and murmer some things.  Kev and i did that looking at each other school girl giggle thing we seemed to be fond of that day and noded in agreement as we stated in unison something about 120+.  The quiet discussion and laughter faded behind us as we made our way back to my truck for the drive home.

Isonikewathuh?

I just like to fish



-- Edited by lightfoot on Thursday 20th of October 2011 08:41:53 PM

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Great story! If you get up early on 12/1 you experience some of the same stuff. All you need is a peachy king in about a size 10

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chris


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intomolgy is important on many rivers. If you are heading out to the trinity, north fork feather, or the Pittt right now you would want to fish a isonikefly... If you are on the Trinity, McCloud or Upper sac you will want to fish an October Caddis nymph Fish will crush these flies.... Heavily fished waters have there secrets..... Many people don't know that the midge will catch big ass fish...

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chris


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Otter wrote:

......., or the Pittt right now you would want to fish a isonikefly.......


 I'd toss a modified black ap in size 14-16   biggrin

 

Actually I've been contemplating heading up to the Pit but don't want to spend the money, even with my econobox at 35+ mpg.  I probably should just do it for my sanity, being unemployed really puts ones head in a funk.



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Ahhh, good 'ole Leo (see story above)

Now Kev and I were hitting the Yuba pretty hard.  It's tough to break a habit, especially when that habit results in lots of fish to hand.  We had grown accustom of 'ole Leo up on the hill, his famous Subaru wagon and ability to repeatedly state the same foul curse over and over.  This is a family site so I'll skip the proper pronounciation and just refer to it as "bleep".

Those of you from back then might remember 'ole Leo, who lived in the trailer just below the narrows.  Stopping by Stans  off of hwy 50 would land you a sketched map of the Yuba with a warning of the 'ole man on the bluff.  A littl old, a little overweight, a lot contankerous and a real joy to hold a conversation with.  It was narry a trip that we were not blessed with his fine spoken words of wisdom...bleep, bleep, BLEEP, bleep.  We always had such great times wen we met 'ole Leo.  He even offered to show us his fine old shotgun but stoped short of letting us use his telephone to invite the sherriff over.  Not sure what that was all about, inviting the sherriff was his idea to begin with. I guess 'ole Leo had a boute of 'ole age and forgot that it was his idea.

You would think that 'ole Leo would get tired of standing up above the river and saying hello "bleep" to us.  After all he had been doing it for a year or two already but I guess 2 guys fishing the Yuba and giggling like school girls with each hook up just kept him coming back.  Hey, we were cheap entertainment.

The only problem with entertaining 'ole Leo was he spent most of his time up on the side of the hill and we could never hear him applaud, granted the cat calls "bleep" never seemed to be lost to the sound of the rushing river?  Now, sure he drove that Subaru down to the rivers edge (that a movie or something?) from time to time to comment "bleep" about our escepades but this was post 1972 and gas prices were starting to climb so he usually just kept to the side of the hill.

Now I remember one trip with Mr. Bono (yes the ugly mug with the red shirt you see above) that 'ole Leo came down to say hello.  It was a fine moment as 'ole Leo had become a little laxed in his greetings and Kev and I kind of missed him...well sorta.  This time 'ole Leo brought his new friend.  Now 'ole Leo's freind sure was a talkative individual though neither Bono or I could understand a word of it.  He just went on and on and on and on,,,kind of like the little energizer bunny ......not unlike the killer rabbit of Caerbannog...but bigger, and red and black, with big nasty teeth.

At least the Black Night could partake in a regular joust.  "Ole Leo's pal didn't even have a lance but that didn't stop Bono one bit.  Bono welded his 9 ft lance and became a little confused.  Was he supposed to ride his stallion onward with lance aimed or "on guard" as if that lance was really a foil.  Foil it is as Mr. Bono seemed to hold his ground and waive that chosen weapon.  Now keep in mind that similar to his freind of Caerbannog, 'ole Leos friend also had BIG NASTY TEETH so standing "on guard" rather than rushing into combat was probably a good idea.

It was at this time I discoverd "ole Leo learned a new word "sick em".  He kept saying that over and over but his new friend just wouldn't shut up long enough to listen.  Diplomacy finally won out (Mr. Bono is one cool talker) as "ole Leo's friend was just a babbling idiot that stood there and wouldn't shut up. "Bleep, Bleep" and a tally ho with two coconuts and we were back to fishing.  Gotta love the Yuba, but back on track.

Kevin and I had been having a stellar couple of weeks and it seems 'ole Leo was getting a little hourse.  We still heard the  compliments to our escapades but it was hard to hear and faded out quickly.  By the end of the second week 'ole Leo had just about given up so he had to arrive with a  new method. 

Have you ever seen one of those long funnel shaped noise/horn things at the local parade.  My god thats just the thing..oh wait, that takes lung power and 'ole Leo had been getting a little tired of complimenting his guests and needed an easier solution.  May I present to you the gas charged miniture air horn.  One Hundered and Twenty decibles of sheer applauding power.  Now if 'ole Leo could figure out how to make it say "bleep" he would have been in hog heaven but 120db or raw power was 120db....what could go wrong?

Now Kevin and I cheered when we first heard what 'ole Leo had done for us.  High fives all around, well sorta as there were only two of us.  This was great, now we wouldn't have to worry about missing his praise as he would announce it's forthcomming with a brief (sic) blast from that little sucker shortly after our arrival.  Come to think about it, we should have bought stock in the company that makes them little suckers as he must have gone through a bunch of em. 

Now it's one thing to like a catchy tune but to hear it over and over and over and over was starting to get old.  We asked him to try playing a different tune but it was falling on deaf ears (remember that 120db thing).  Unfortunatly our hearing wasn't getting much better and one fine morning 'ole Leo decided to come down with that little Subaru of his and say hello.  Kev was mid river in some mighty fine looking water but we had another youngster fishing near us that must have been new to the sceen.

'Ole Leo climbed out of that Subaru, I think cussing out OPEC or something sans 1972 but anyway....That youngster just happend to be between 'ole Leo and I.  I'm not 100% sure what 'ole Leo had said "bleep"to the kid but he didnt even bother to teather his fly, just reeled in his line and started running down the bank.  I'd love to hear his version of the story but he left before it ended and as it was the first day Kev and I had seen him, he probably didn;t know the story line anyway.

Now 'ole Leo had just won a major victory.  Somebody had finally figured out that he was not complimenting us fine fisher folks on our entertaining values.  Now I admit Kev and I are a little slow at times; it's called fish on the brain, but this caught us a little by surprise. Just as proud as a pea**** he came hobbling down the rivers edge (movie thing again) and just praising "bleep, bleep, bleep" away.  He stopped right behind me on the bank and just went on and on like his 4 legged friend Bono and I had met. 

I turned and announced, "hey Leo, I brought something for you".  He just stood there calm as can be, it was almost serene and a moment I will NEVER forget.  I reached into my fly fishing vest and pulled out...yup, you guessed it...120db of pure compressed air bliss.  I held it out at arms length, a mere few feet from 'ole Leos face and let her rip.  Now 'ole Leo's face turned about 3 shades of red and "BLEEP", "that dosn't bother me" "BLEEP".  A two word response of "Oh really?" and another 15-20 second blast managed another 7 shades of red with a little bit of purple thrown in.  Without another single word, 'Ole Leo turned and walked away.

A few weeks later Kev and I were in Stans picking up some gear.  At the counter paying for our gear the talk eventually turned to whats fishing, whats not and finally the Yuba.  Stan sounded rather excited as he expalined in rather fine detail that somebody had blasted an air horn at 'ole Leo.  I guess the youngster at the river that day told a decent tale.



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Winter eats heat the way darkness swallows light. The terrors of failed power and frozen stems are stymied with fire, smoke and white ash.

Cedarville, Mi

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