Don’t mean to complain about the weather . . . but . . .
Again this week we’ve been under mostly gray skies with a few inches of snow flurries thrown in.
One of the consequences of a wetter than normal winter is rivers are at or above capacity. Streams we frequent are running at April levels.
Un-fishable water is usually a product of run-off and right when ODFW opens the Upper Deschutes River as an alternative.
It’s really not all that deep
These dreary days mean we’ll fill the blog with more domestic tasks.
Oh there was activity, just mostly indoors and with fewer photos captured.
Not fishing doesn’t mean not thinking about fishing. Limited stream access just means more sitting at the desk spin’in feathers.
I even posted some of the patterns on Instagram. Winter is the season to refill boxes with patterns depleted last summer.
Books occupy another segment of daily activities. What an Inter-library loan can’t find, Hoopla and Kindle can.
Ken Forkish, owner of Ken’s Artisan Bakery In Portland, Oregon has written several books on bread. Evolutions in Bread and Flour Water Salt Yeast make for great reading.
There is always an eclectic mix of titles stacked on the living room table. This week that pile contained an inordinate number of cookbooks.
The other activity associated with dreary weather is cooking and we’ve done quite a lot of that. Soup Sunday returned this year and we’ve sampled and canned a couple of good recipes. JQ tweaked her chocolate pound cake recipe to perfection and fourth time seems to be the charm on finding a truly good chocolate chip cookie.
We didn’t get out much but that will change with the season. For now we’ll start a new book and wait for the real thaw.
Not as deep as before, but there is still some shovel work required. We understand it’s winter and yet days under gray sky seem more numerous this year than any in the past.
Getting ready to hit the water
We don’t lament the inevitable and in fact look forward to a seasonal shift. It has been common in Central Oregon for snowy winter days to be followed by sun and blue sky. Usually in equal amounts.
Not this year.
The week didn’t start with snow on the ground. Mid-February started with a spring-like feel.
Snack time
It’s referred to as false spring, but regardless, we took advantage and headed to Maupin to spend the day on the Deschutes.
Rivers remain swollen from January’s melted snows so the fishing wasn’t great.
A mid-February day on the Deschutes
However, the day was sunny and temperatures pushed into the fifties. We sat up chairs on river’s edge, enjoyed the day and waited for winter to return.
I’ve fished, mostly fly fishing, for more than sixty years. For fifty of those years any pattern tossed onto a lake or stream has been made in-house.
Fishing partners assess the Deschutes River.
This week I was reorganizing the space used to tie flies and pulled out a box of hooks that has been on hand from the start.
It may have been a week of cold weather battering old bones or this antique hook box, but either way this got me ruminating on my tying bench.
In this house winter doesn’t bring fishing to a complete halt, but it does limit time spent on the water. What replaces the actual fishing is fly tying. In all these years of stocking a bench, more gets added than is ever tossed.
A tying space is the equivalent to a garage work bench with its collection of old cans holding odd lots of hardware that might someday be useful.
The foundation to my tying bench is a roll top desk recovered from the Pastime Bar in Whitefish.
Though it has served in many capacities, the current iteration evolved from a couple of decades of reorganizations.
Every drawer and file slot holds fly tying materials.
On the slab of oak that tops the desk is a tying box my father built.
Above that are shelves with even more wooden boxes. All overflow with the bits and bobs necessary to craft trout lures.
A still life . . . tying stuff
The item that prompted this post was a tiny piece of wire sitting in a white cardboard box identified by Mustad-Viking Hooks in red ink and the number 94840 stamped in a different font.
A Sparkle Pupa pattern in Gary LaFontaine’s book “Caddisflies” calls specifically for this style of hook. However, you can’t find this component in most fly shops.
You see, Mustad isn’t the market leader they were when their signature cardboard box lined shelves in every shop.
In the years since I purchased these boxes, not only has the package changed, but the part number number has disappeared.
It didn’t matter to me nor would it to any tyer pulling a pattern from this book as fly tyers are notorious for making substitutions. Just like your father always had a bolt that would work.
LaFontaine’s Sparkle Pupa on a size 12 Mustad 94840
Fly patterns are intended to imitate a fish’s food sources which hasn’t changed.
Material storage in Earl’s tying box
However, the materials and methods are in constant motion, bringing new twists to ancient patterns. Tying a caddis pupa imitation to fish ahead of a hatch draws on hundreds of different patterns from years of knowledge.
My methods have evolved, yet still get pulled back to times when these old Mustad hooks were state of the art.
Hen capes for hackle feathers
As winter sets in, I scribble out a list aimed to replenish boxes depleted over a summer of fishing.
This year a variety of streamers will be tacked on because Small Mouth Bass got added to the hunted species list.
I’ll spend the next month or so building imitations of aquatic invertebrates to match the variety of hatches we’ll encounter. Some will end up catching fish, others will catch a rock or branch and become part of next year’s winter list.
Every year the process gets reset like the cycles I’m attempting to replicate.
We continue to enjoy a perfect fall. The few days of rain are offset by clear skies. Morning temperatures start around freezing, but by afternoon we’re flannel shirt comfortable.
One never knows when the winter snows will slow travel, so we are living in the now.
Mornings, recently, have started with a shroud of fog. Pine trees are glazed in frost, but our morning drive is not hampered by black ice.
Parked at a favorite spot
This week we were back on the Crooked River. There are a lot less people on the river as the weather gets colder. Our favorite picnic site is usually empty . . . the whole camp ground . . . the entire day!
Waiting for the rod to get strung
Last year the Crooked was drawn down to dangerous levels and while it has taken nearly the entire season, good stream conditions have returned, as have the fish.
He knows a good spot to start
From here Tip can keep an eye on everyone
This time of year conditions are perfect for the Euro-nymph rig. With each progressive season, I get better at choosing the right patterns, as well as presentation. I had a very productive morning.
Afternoon sun on the river … perfect day
By noon the gray sky had shifted to blue and the sun offered a bit of warmth. Not camp chairs on the bank warm, but not mittens and down vest cold. A dram of spirits in a fresh cup of coffee pushed the rest of the chill from our bones.
Jacqueline prowled the riparian for photo ops, I broke down the rod, and we headed to Prineville to share a Tastee Treat Cheeseburger for dinner.
The foundation to my tying bench is a roll top desk recovered from the Pastime Bar in Whitefish.
On the slab of oak that tops the desk is a tying box my father built.
The item that prompted this post was a tiny piece of wire sitting in a white cardboard box identified by Mustad-Viking Hooks in red ink and the number 94840 stamped in a different font.
You see, Mustad isn’t the market leader they were when their signature cardboard box lined shelves in every shop.
