Opening Daze 2012

Each year it seems the anticipation for Opening Day of Connecticut's trout season builds for months, yet the weekend celebration passes in the blink of an eye. A camping trip along the Farmington River surrounding the third Saturday in April has been a can't-miss tradition for my uncle, close friends and I for a long time (small sampling: 2010 and 2011).  For three nights and four days, we immerse ourselves in fine food and drink around a campfire and even manage to educate a few trout along the way.

The river and weather conditions this year were unlike any other since my uncle began including me on this sacred weekend.  The region hadn't seen substantial rain for weeks leading up to the trip and our waterways were reflecting that with very low flows. It was strange to see and fish the Farmington in her August-like state in the month of April.  In addition, the weather wasn't what we have come to expect for the usually cold and wet Opening Day weekend.  With the exception of our final day, we remained warm and dry throughout our stay, even fishing comfortably in T-shirts!
  

During my first few years involved in this tradition, I mistakenly believed the trip was solely about fishing. I used to grow anxious when we weren't beating the water into a froth and other anglers were. Over time, I came to realize that our annual stint in the woods was much more about getting away from the every day grind and enjoying camp life. Now there is no pressure to be on the water by a certain time. Thanks to year-round catch and release areas, we get our fill of trout fishing long before Opening Day comes around. This allows us to focus on the often overlooked things that we don't always get to do back home, like carving walking sticks, flora and fauna identification, learning knots, sharing Native American artifacts, cooking over a Coleman, chopping kindling, and reliving classic stories from years past.

If there is an overarching theme of the weekend, it could be argued that it is food. Each year we try to out-do the previous year's menu. When not on the water or conked out in sleeping bags, almost all hours of the weekend are spent eating or preparing the next meal. Fresh clams from Long Island Sound were a welcomed addition a few years ago; now oysters have been thrown into the mix and I doubt there will another trip without them. Along with the dozens slurped raw, my uncle shared his roasted oyster recipe that was one of the big hits this year. Each shucked oyster received a dollop of butter, cream and garlic then were roasted in a cast iron skillet over the camp fire until the edges of the mollusks began curling away from their shells They were extremely delicious and couldn't have been more fresh.

Shellfish were just the beginning. On our first evening, we enjoyed a fine codfish dinner with asparagus and wild rice. The following night we had our annual fire-cooked steak and potatoes that were baked in deep in the coals. Not to be overlooked were the natural-skin hot dogs that would rival any other I've ever had. Before each dinner was the obligatory cheese platter along with Aaron's addition of presunto, a tasty Portuguese cured ham. Right up there with our excellent dinners were our hungry man's breakfasts, which included egg sandwiches, bowls of cheerios, and, of course, Entenmann's raspberry danish twist. We finally got on the water between our late breakfasts and later dinners and survived off snacks stuffed in our backpacks in between.

Fly fishing for trout is how this tradition began and we make sure to carve out plenty of time for it every year. Overall, the Farmington River fished fairly well during our stay despite the low water. The recent trout stockings kept everyone entertained and the group managed to tangle with a few older resident fish as well. Aiding our cause was the earlier-than-normal onset of the hendrickson hatch. The various life cycles of these mighty mayflies provided consistent action with a good spinner fall on night one, decent dun hatches each afternoon and pretty good nymphing throughout the weekend using pheasant tail patterns. 

It's not always easy finding water that can fit a crew of four, sometimes five, anglers in it, especially on a weekend as crowded as Opening Day. However, every year we manage to get off the beaten path and set up shop in pools where we can relax, take turns fishing and enjoy ourselves. As great as it is fooling and landing trout on a fly rod, it can be just as fun watching my uncle or friends, who I share this passion with, do the same.

After we put our tents away on Sunday, as on cue, the sky opened up and the river began quenching its thirst. Another memorable Opening Day weekend is now in the books and spring trout fishing is starting to lose its prominence in our hectic schedules as other things take over, none more so than the hunt for migrating striped bass. I know,  however, when next fall changes into winter, and a bunch of guys sit around a table to tie flies, talk of a weekend camping trip in April will bring smiles to everyone's faces and the anticipation will again start to build.

April Come She Will

April is one of my favorite months, but this year, unlike the famous Simon and Garfunkel's lyrics, our streams have been far from swelled with rain. Quite the contrary, Connecticut's waterways have more resembled late summer levels this spring. Nonetheless, the trout fishing has been quite good, it has just required a little more stealth and patience from anglers. 

Like many things in nature, the anxiously awaited hendrickson hatch arrived a bit early this spring. Unlike most years, the first large mayflies emerged from the surface film of the Farmington River well before our annual camping trip for the trout season opener. Whether it was morning nymphing, mid-afternoon dun hatches, or evening spinner-falls, each life cycle phase of these delectable bugs provided some great opportunities for fly fishermen.

The three-tailed trout crack came early like everything else this spring.



A Survivor with a left-orange elastomer tag that was stocked in 2010

Face Time

Appearing in this week's New England edition of The Fisherman magazine is an article that I wrote about my favorite trout haunt, Connecticut's Farmington River.  On January 1, 2012, a new set of regulations took place that create over 20-miles of year-round trout fishing opportunities along this blue-ribbon stream.  The article explains these new regulations in detail, as well as gives a few good reasons why you are missing out if you have not yet experienced the Farmington first hand.  The fine folks at The Fisherman even put my ugly mug and a beautiful brown trout on the cover.  The issue starts hitting mailboxes and newsstands today.

A Young Man's Job

Instead of fishing this weekend I took care of things on the home front, recovered from a cold and visited with family. One of the highlights was catching up with my uncle. Our annual camping weekend is coming up for the traditional opener of trout fishing season, so timing was perfect. He stopped over my parent's house, the same house he grew up in, to do some tree work in the backyard. There was a giant swamp maple that he planted as a boy with a widow-maker branch hanging since Tropical Storm Irene last August. With spurs on his boots, clips on his belt and some rope, he scaled 60 feet up the tree and went to work while fellow family members stared on with kinks in our necks. My uncle said it was a young man's job, but he owned it. When the chainsaw finally cut through the branch and it fell to the ground, the weight of it pushed four bricks on the patio a foot into the ground. So needless to say it will be nice to have a beer out back this summer without worrying about a several hundred pound tree limb hovering over us. When the maple is seasoned next year, we'll have great fuel for the wood stove too.

Even though he doesn't get on the water as much as he used to, my can s uncle till wield a fly rod just as good as chainsaw. I have him to thank for introducing me to our annual Opening Day camping tradition nearly 20 years ago. For the first few trips I didn't catch a single trout, yet I looked forward to it all year long like I still do today. It was then and is now more about getting away from the everyday grind and spending time with friends than catching fish anyway-- the stories around the camp-fire, the laughs, enjoying fresh clams, etc.

It's my hope that Uncle D has another Opening Day weekend like last year when he stuck two awesome brown trout on the Farmington River. The fishing forecast looks positive for this year as long we don't get the deluge of rain that is bound to come sooner or later. The mild winter we just experienced has everything in nature a few weeks ahead of schedule, including insect hatches on our rivers and streams. There is a strong chance that we could be smack in the middle of the famed Hendrickson hatch during our camping trip.  Wouldn't that be nice?

Micro Managing

It seems that spring fever has spared no one lately. That became more apparent as I entered a fly shop adjacent to freshly stocked trout stream on Sunday morning. The high volume of anglers with the same idea as me on a bluebird day came as no surprise. Who wouldn't want to be outside in late winter when the thermometer would peak over 70 degrees? I for one was like a kid in a candy store, especially after spending the three previous weekend days cooped up indoors painting. 

The fishing on Connecticut's Farmington River has been as good as can be expected for March. A recent stocking means there are plenty of fresh trout to weed through and the mild winter was a gift to the resident holdover and wild fish. Along with the many brown trout that hold over from year to year, there seems to be a larger than normal number of rainbow trout that fared well. What is also different about this season so far is the river's flow--it is wicked low for this time of year, which is comfortable for getting around but it could spell trout if we don't get significant rainfall in the near future.

My friend Derrick did well on the Farmington just the day before, so we had a pretty good idea of where we wanted to be and wanted we wanted to do. Half expecting to see a deli line of anglers in the chosen run upon arrival, we were excited to find a lone streamer fisherman on the move.  The bug life was strong from the start.  There were winter caddis, stone flies and tiny midge coming off the water.  The goal was to imitate the larval forms of these insects in hopes of fooling trout gorging on them under the surface.  We rigged up light leaders under small yarn indicators and added little split shots and weighted flies to get down to the strike zone.  Below our first fly we experimented with a range of midge, stonefly and mayfly patterns until we found what was working.

After the first half hour of ignored drifts and fly changes, Derrick put us on the board using a minuscule yellow midge pattern.  To find out what else this holdover brown trout was eating, we gently sampled its gullet with a tool that resembles a small turkey baster.  Derrick squeezed the contents into the palm of his hand and we stared at a dozen freshly eaten nymphs that were size #18 and smaller.  It was obvious that trout were feeding right at our feet and it was time to go tiny.  We both tied on micro stonefly and midge imitations and stepped up into the head of the pool where many fine trout have won and lost battles to us in the past. 

Photo credit: Derrick Kirkpatrick

Over the next two hours, we connected with several quality trout that were stacked up and feeding along a current seam of fast and slow water. We tossed our rigs upstream and drifted them right along the seam, setting the hook on the slightest hesitation of our strike indicators.  It's amazing to think how these fish could pinpoint our tiny offerings tumbling through the hydraulics of this run, but they didn't seem to have much trouble.  Derrick and I weeded out a few smaller holdover browns that fought extremely hard from the well-oxygenated water.  The next trout my partner hooked was in a whole different class, however.  The lengthy fight that ensued left both angler and net man shaking with nerves.  She bounced from the head of the pool and dropped downstream; she bulldogged down deep then flailed on the surface; she came in close then screamed back out again.  Finally, right before she slid into the net, the only word that came to mind was wild.  Along with the Tyson-esque fight, the fish was in pristine condition; no marks, no clips, perfect fins, and amazing coloration.  It was a perfect example of what the Farmington River has to offer.  This female brown trout measured exactly twenty inches long and, as we would later find out, was getting up in her years.  The day was already made, but not yet complete. 

After collecting ourselves, I got back into the head of the pool. That wasn't the only horse up there because I tangled with another hell of a trout just a few drifts later. At first it acted as if it didn't really know or care that it was hooked; just pacing around in a patch of slow water. There was a lane of very quick water I had to lead it through to get to the safe zone where we were standing. I took a few steps backward and the fish bolted from the head, cleared the dangerous fast water and was almost within reach before that dreadful feeling of slack line ran through my body. That is just part of the game when planting micro hooks into large maws. There was no question if it was a big brown trout, but just how big nagged at me for a short long time.

After shaking off the lost fish, I climbed back in the driver's seat, though it seemed our short-lived window of success was closing.  There were surely other trout feeding in this section, but our drifts were neglected the rest of our time there.  It was a memorable morning and we both felt a sense of accomplishment akin to solving a puzzle.  Most of the popular pools in the upper Farmington River have top notch trout holding in them, but it's not every outing that you can dial in on exactly what they want and how they want it.  The rest of the day's action was rather anticlimactic, but no one was complaining.  The weather was phenomenal for mid-March.  The thermometer in my Jeep read 79 degrees as we cruised downstream to have lunch and a beer along a favorite stretch of river.  

A toast to an old friend after a good day on the water (photo credit: Tommy Baranowski)

Back at work on Monday morning, after emailing the photos from the trip to Derrick and our friend Aaron who couldn't join us, we learned that it wasn't the first time our crew landed that magnificent stream-born female trout.  Aaron's detective work after scrolling through archives of old photos revealed that I had caught her in April of 2009 and Aaron after that in November of the same year; all three times in the same pool!  In the three years since, she had only grown about a half of an inch in length and hadn't moved much, but it most definitely survived numerous encounters with sharp hooks, probably winning more than a few of those battles.  This fish was 19.5-inches when I caught her three years ago, quite possibly when it was at least three years old.  I think it's pretty cool that the Farmington River is producing trout that are five and six years old and perhaps older.  Check out the unmistakable line of dots behind the trout's right eye in the photos above and below.  Hopefully we'll see her again soon. 

Aaron with the same trout in November of 2009