Outdoor Central Oregon Issue 10 | March/April 2019 | Page 40

40 MAR/APR 2019 FISHING| WINTER: MEASUREMENT BY EDMUND WADESON When it comes to trout fishermen I have found they can be largely defined by two camps. There are the “Size” folks and there are the “Numbers” folks.Size folks are all about the size of the trout, either in inches long or in pounds of weight. They only go for the big boys as the measure of their success. Numbers folks are all about how many they caught, mostly regardless of weight. This is the measure of their suc- cess. Occasionally I run into a fisherman who is a combination of these two camps, and who seems bound and determined to belong to both so that, whatever discus- sion is taking place among fisherman, he can compete. I personally buck these trends and eschew the bias towards either size or numbers, although in truth I do love to catch big trout and also to catch numbers of trout. However, I can be satisfied if I only catch one or two, and they don’t even have to be big to make the time rewarding or a day good. The measure of a day is the province of things far beyond actual the catching of the fish, at least for me. Late last year I had a rare opportunity to stay out in the Oregon Coast Range for a few days. I rounded up a few willing friends who, like me, felt that a change of pace would be a good thing. The first full day of our stay found us hiking along a narrow, rocky canyon that contained a small creek. Arriving at the creek it took me about ten seconds to suspect that there were trout concealed in the lenses plunge with pools beneath waterfalls concealed amidst the Anders Korman in brown ledges and boulders. I ran back to the truck, flung on my fly vest, grabbed my a scattered brown trout. favorite 4 weight rod, and jogged back to where my friends patiently waited. P: George Vanderpool The dry summer had shrunk the watershed down to small runs between boulders with occasional deep pools, and the creek was waiting for the seasonal rains to fill it again. What struck me about this creek was that the pools were a deep viridian green, almost black in color, something I had never seen before. The dark water, the overhanging trees and the moss gave the canyon an eerie, primeval quality that added a sense of mystery to the place. The place fairly reeked of suspense, the plunge pools begged for a fly. I surmised that the fish here would not be large, perhaps no bigger than 8 or 9 inches long, and that they would come fast to the fly, both of which proved to be correct. I found a long pool and shot a cast up to where a small waterfall dumped into it. After a few quick strips the line came taught and a small fish splashed and tugged across the surface towards me. The first fish from new water is always a surprise as you never know what actually resides there until you have proof in hand. You can read the book, watch the video, take the class and talk to others, but until you are there for yourself you really don’t know. This rings true in many circumstances in life, for example getting married or having your first baby. You can only really fully understand it in the doing of the thing. So it was with a sense of surprise that I scooped up the small fish with the fly in its jaw to find a mysterious-looking trout of a species I didn’t immediately recognize. It was much darker than any trout I had caught before, although the pink and purple colors along its flanks reflected the same gorgeous iridescence so typical of trout everywhere. The orange slash mark under its jaw identified it clearly as a resident cutthroat trout, and an unexpected find. This creek flows into one of the west slope Oregon Coastal rivers known for its population of sea run cutthroat trout. These trout ply those inland waters influenced by both the tides and rivers, where the water is both salt and fresh. They typi- cally choose the many mountain streams for spawning, and it is there that their fry have the chance to grow in protected habitats before they too take their place in the ebb and flow of the brackish water zone. The half day we explored the canyon showed us many beautiful sights and sounds, all contained within a palette of boulder strewn creek bed, dark pools, small quick waterfalls, green moss and a continuous canopy of mossy branches with light filtering through green leaves. Casting into the various pools along the creek with small bead head olive and black woolly worm patterns, I caught maybe 15 hand sized trout and a similar number of smaller juveniles, with one even breaking the tape at a blistering 2 ¼”. The cutthroat trout in the small canyon that afternoon all attacked the fly with an aggression typical of fish that don’t get to see many large food items passing by. Ev- erywhere I expected a trout to be holding there they were, willing and eager. Show- ing those trout to my non fly fishing friends elicited a similar response from them all. “OMG, What a beautiful fish” or “Holy Cow, S-weet”, or words to that effect. Watching me dance, leap and otherwise stumble from rock to rock with an occasional wet foot as a reward for not watching my step, brought laughs later on as we sat round a fire in the living room, adding a glaze of humor to the time we shared. These friends elaborated for good measure and humorous effect in describing some of what they claim were my antics. All in good fun I suppose, no offense intended and none taken. In retrospect, I measure that day as I measure any day on the water, through the lens of the all-encompassing nature of the experience. The unexpected find of a small creek with willing trout. The success of catching then releasing some beauti- ful, albeit small, examples of a species infrequently caught. The company of good friends and a beautiful natural environ- ment. These are the kinds of things that define the experience and are how I have come quite naturally to measure any day that I can get out on the water with the fly rod. I acknowledge it may be hard to quantify, and probably different for every- one, but it is the measurement that means everything to this fly fisherman. Edmund Wadeson lives, fishes and introduces others to fly fishing in Central Oregon. Find him at Edmundwadeson@ gmail.com 41