Little Drakes of Summer
As usual, when fishing with Tom, we were running late when our young but extremely knowledgeable guide, Eli Blackburn, launched the drift boat at the end of an obscure brush-choked road where a deeper and stronger Henry’s Fork separates steep canyon walls. We had struggled for nearly a week with equally uncooperative fish and weather while working together on a project in and around Yellowstone Park. We hoped a float trip several thousand feet lower in elevation would allow us to recoup some time lost to a cold, wet storm that had shut down virtually everything in the high country.
Just the warmth alone from a long-missing sun was reward enough, but the flash of rising trout brought feelings of expectation to the beginning of the ten-mile float. Within 15 minutes, Tom was connected to an acrobatic 17-inch rainbow. It was just the beginning of two action-charged hours spent firing long casts to large trout that slashed ravenously at a stupendous number of Flav spinners.
The several days of chilling temperatures and near-constant rain had consolidated three or four broods of Flavs into a single, massive spinner fall, resulting in some of the fastest and most exciting dry-fly fishing we had ever experienced. Many of the browns and rainbows were large and, despite using 4X tippets, we had both expended our supply of #14 Rusty Paraspinners before the action finally subsided around noon.
Following a leisurely streamside lunch and a short rest to revive tired muscles, we fished Flav Nymphs along the edge and around any fishy looking structure away from the banks. At around 4:30 P.M., with little more than a mile remaining before the takeout, we began to observe trout rising on Flav duns and, until it was almost dark, we enjoyed the luxury of fishing high-floating hackled patterns.
Later, beneath a blazing sunset that ignited the opposing horizon, a second wave of spinners began to appear. With the jagged Tetons lifting like frozen flames against the skyline, trout continued to take our duns and cripples. But as the emergence began to fade with the light, the fishes’ attention shifted toward the spinners. We switched to Silhouette Spinners and for a time were able to see our imitations.
Eventually, however, we were casting to the sound as much as the sight of the rise as darkness enveloped us. Conversation gave way to the soft creaking of the oars and the whisper of the line. Suddenly a sharp crack shattered the stillness. Irritated by the nocturnal invasion of its usual privacy, a large beaver had sounded its displeasure with a resounding smack of its powerful tail against the darkened water. At 11 P.M., there was no reason to argue.
After twelve hours of almost constant action, we were nearly as spent as the fallen mayflies that had kept us fishing so late. Eli pushed the final few yards to our waiting vehicle.
It had been a remarkable day in terms of the number and size of trout landed and lost. But in retrospect, I think most fondly of shared pleasure and the little drakes that made it possible. Like the longest days of summer, they are special.
René Harrop and his family own and operate the House of Harrop fly-tying operation. He lives in St. Anthony, Idaho.
Copyright © 2012 Intermedia Outdoors
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