Coffin Fly

This is a pattern I more or less came up with on my own. First time tied, never tried, but I'm pleased with the outcome..

I looked at a lot of pictures, and from my limited experiences, the majority of Coffin Flies I've seen have not had their wings in an outright spent position like a standard spinner pattern, which influenced this tie.

Without any further hold up, I present my Coffin Fly...

Hook: Size 6-10 2XL
Thread: White 6/0 for Body, Black 8/0 for thorax
Tail: 3 strands of Moose hair
Dubbing: Cream antron for body, black for thorax
Hackle: Grizzly, clipped underneath
Wing: 2 strands of white antron yarn, 1 strand of black antron yarn

I tied in the wings at roughly a 45 degree angle, and for the material I used two strands of white antron and one strand of black antron. I also included grizzly hackle at the thorax which I trimmed down significantly underneath. I tied this particular one in a size 10 2XL.

Green Drakes and Coffin Flies have obviously come and gone for the year, so unfortunately this pattern won't make its stream debut until next May/ June. When that time comes however, I'll be ready.

Whimsically Wandering Westward

What could compel a person to just get in the car and drive from New York to Michigan? It could just be my adventurous soul acting rationally (yes, rationally)... or maybe I'm just crazy. All I know is that every minute spent in that car was well worth it. After all, I was heading to the tributaries of Lake Michigan and the salmon were running. Come to think of it, that doesn't sound crazy to me at all, so I'm going with the adventurous soul school of thought.

I drove into East Lansing Thursday, which took me about 11 hours. From home, the trip was about 715 miles. We put in just above the small town of Newaygo, which is another hundred miles from East Lansing.

I wound up leaving early thursday morning, well before sunrise. I hit one of my favorite central PA haunts on the way there. It's a small winding stream where you take this road for about 6 miles just to get there.


The stream is by no means a secret, but I'd say I was the only one fishing there 95% of the times I went during my college years... and I went there a lot. I didn't waste any time at all, rigged up and hiked down. I went to my favorite spot and began casting.

It wasn't before long when the snow came flying down, and I was not dressed for the occasion. I toughed it out for a little while, and I was rewarded with the little guy below, caught on the batman, my go-to small stream nymph.


I decided to head back up to the car after that since I was freezing and still had a long drive ahead of me.


After driving through pouring rain for well over 400 miles straight, I pulled into East Lansing around 6 pm. I was visiting a good friend who goes to MSU, where we went out for a night on the town. For anyone who has never been to East Lansing by the way, it is as good of a college town as you will find anywhere. I put it right up there with State College. We stumbled in around 3am, where I furiously chugged water in an attempt to avoid the hangover that I was almost certain would be in full force when I had to wake up two and a half hours later. Man, did I luck out. Maybe it was because of sheer excitement for my first salmon fishing trip, but I felt like a million bucks. After taking the miracle potion that is five hour energy I was off on the two hour drive to Newaygo.


After meeting my guide and pulling up to the Mighty Mo (Muskegon River), I immediately understood where it gets its nickname from. That river is MASSIVE. The scenery was incredible, and this was what I first walked out on.

There were already 3 or 4 boats in when we put in, and the river wound up being pretty packed throughout the day. It was nothing of Salmon River proportions (judging from the pictures I've seen), but the guide was shocked at how crowded it was, as it was still relatively early in the season.


If you asked me, I would have told you that the river was loaded with salmon, but according to the guide this years run has been smaller than usual, and he expects it to stay that way throughout the season.


We hit a couple spots where we saw considerable numbers of fish, with no luck at all. We could not turn any heads whatsoever. Until...


Around noon, the sun came out, and instantly the fish turned on. After casting in the same spot for a little while, pretty much the second the sun appeared I got my first hook up of the day. This would turn out to be one of the two fish I actually landed on the day. I wound up fighting him for about 20 minutes, and this was the end result... my first salmon.

16 pound Chinook Salmon

I landed one more on the day, slightly smaller, but didn't manage to get a picture. I probably hooked up 7 or 8 times on the day, only to lose them... some after a lengthy fight.


I saw some trout come up to the surface as well, as there was a decent caddis hatch going on. Unfortunately I was just a little too early for the chrome.


The Muskegon gets its fair share of goons as well. I saw one guy literally swing his foot in a kicking motion to guide his catch into his net.He took a real nice spill into the water immediately after that however.


I drove home Sunday, and was hoping to hit Penns Creek for a bit on the way home, but I turned out to be way too late. Luckily though I'm heading back that way next weekend for my alma mater's homecoming and I'm planning on finally making it back there then.

I Don't Know Where I'm Going, But I Get There...

... Sometimes I'm wondering where will it be?
To quote one of my favorite bands, Assembly of Dust, head manned by Sir Reid Genauer, these lyrics epitomize this day.

Sometimes you just have to get away, just find a place in which you can transcend to something greater than yourself. I was looking for a "destination" off the beaten path, a place that I could go to and just get lost in my surroundings. To reiterate the aforementioned quote, when you don't know where you're going, how do you know when you've reached your destination? The truth is, I wasn't exactly sure where I was going, but I got there... and I found exactly what I was looking for.

Batman nymph

You know you've found a special place when you arrive on a beautiful saturday to find you are the only one on the water. On top of that, I was fishing a pure wild trout stream nestled deep in the woods. I did some considerable hiking alongside the stream and found a ton of good water along the way. The scenery made the trip worthwhile, with some wild browns as an added bonus. I saw a single Iso come off the water, which was enough for me to tie on a size 14 parachute adams. I was fishing a dry/ dropper combo all day and never even took off the adams. I fished 3 nymphs, your standard hare's ear, a red copper john size 20, and the third I'll refer to as the wild card. It's called the batman, and I ordered it from a shop in Utah specifically for water like this. The fish went absolutely crazy for it.

I wound up bringing nine fish to hand on the day, which was one of my better days on the year. The fish were small, but they were colored up very nicely. It was awesome to find a stream like this, and I'll definitely be returning.

This stream had everything from...

Gorgeous pockets to...

Beautiful short runs to...

Large pools (relatively speaking of course) to...

 

 

Even some small cascades and...

Small wild brown trout to...

Slightly larger wild brown trout to...

Even larger wild brown trout (relatively speaking of course)

When You Come to THE Fork, Take it!

Is this Heaven? No, it's Glenwood Springs.

For any fly fishing enthusiast however, the last ten miles or so of the Roaring Fork River just before spilling into the famed Colorado River is just about as close to Heaven as one can get. Perfect conditions, sunny and moderate temperatures, breathtaking surroundings and Green Drakes allowed for a day the could not be described in any other way than divine.

Glenwood Canyon from the road

Awake at the crack of dawn, my guide, Mr. Ryan Schmidt of Gore Creek Fly Fisherman and I braced ourselves for the lengthy trip over to the Fork. I spent the ride admiring the Eagle River weaving its way through the valley below, the tumbling rapids of the Colorado River and the majestic walls of the Glenwood Canyon. We arrived at our destination and wasted no time... we rigged up and got on the water.

The day immediately showed promise, as on my second cast of the day I was rewarded with a gorgeous little rainbow trout as he eagerly took the Green Drake nymph I presented to him. I saw this as a sign of great things to come, but to my surprise, things slowed down dramatically for much of the morning. We plugged onward downstream in our raft, fruitlessly casting to water that looked "fishy." I stuck with the drake nymph, adding a small copper john as a trailer. As the clock inched closer to noon, the water had warmed a bit and the fish began to respond.

I had begun to pick up a few fish consecutively on both the drake and the copper john. Some small, a few larger, but still nothing to write home about. We came to a large hole where Ryan had told me about some of his past success, and I was able to target my cast exactly where I wanted it. Sure enough, I was hit with an abrupt take, I set the hook and it was game on. I knew immediately that this fish had some girth on it. Overwhelmed by the initial strength of the fish, as the battle progressed I suspected that something just wasn't right. I thought to myself "a Roaring Fork wild trout should put up more of a fight than this!" As I pulled the fish closer, the plight of my bewilderment had been solved. I was greeted by this big ugly thing... a two foot sucker. After this Ryan and I agreed it was time to break for lunch.

Fish landed

During the afternoon, the hatch activity really took off. Still no drake duns, but what began as slight flurry of Yellow Sallies turned into an all out blizzard. These little stoneflies were out and about, hitting the surface but the fish weren't responding to them on top. No problem, we just continued to go after them underneath. Still sticking with the drake to no avail, we ditched the copper john and tied on a yellow sally nymph. From here, strikes were plentiful, the number of fish hooked were substantial, and the number of fish landed were slightly above moderate. I had more than enough chances, and I like to think I'm a pretty good angler, but I was simply not on my game today. Who am I kidding though? I was on a raft in the middle of the Roaring Fork River, surrounded by one of the most awe-inspiring landscapes in the country. If that's not satisfying enough, I don't know what is. Throw in a couple wild trout and you've got quite the rewarding day.

As the day began to wind down and we approached the confluence, I gave it one last push. Things had slowed, but I was still optimistic. Sure enough, the take I had been waiting for came about, and the fish went off running. I cautiously played him, hoping to not lose another big fish, and after a few minutes had elapsed, I brought him to hand. I was happy that I had saved the biggest [trout] of the day for last.

My day on the Fork was one of those experiences that you simply don't ever want to come to an end. I was pleased with the way it had commenced however. I'm hoping to be able to make this an annual event.