During this small window of post-summer, and pre-winter opportunities, a particular fishing occurs on our local waters. While the clear blue crisp days of autumn are most anglers idea of paradise, a cold wet day is the coveted one for those hoping for the best in what fall fly-fishing has to offer. Fall Blue Wings are more prolific on cloudy days, and you’ll find on our rivers butter yellow browns, especially the bigger ones, are more active when there is some cloud cover to make them feel a little more secure. I have been waiting for such a day to motivate me to chase the years last hatch and hopefully play the game. 

I had been keeping an eye on the weather, and on the hourglass of the fishing season knowing that hatches have begun to wind down by this time of year. I was hoping for a cool and wet day to make one last foray locally.

Earlier in the week, I noticed that Sunday had potential, and when the morning dawned I was pleased with what I saw.  With a coffee cup in hand I packed and downed my brew as skies darkened and a drizzle began. I quickly threw my fishing stuff into the car, hoping to find a good hatch, and a few willing brown trout interested in playing the game.

Before heading up the hill I texted Kyle to see if he was interested in joining me. We had talked earlier in the week about fishing if the weather forecast held. Typical of his morning routine he was hanging at the shop tying flies, absolutely ready to go. After grabbing a sandwich at Caputo's, I pulled up in front of Western Rivers, topped off my coffee, and off we went.

It was snowing in Parleys Canyon, which we hoped was enough to keep most of the fair weather anglers home. By the time we hit the Heber Valley it had stopped, but to the west the skies remained dark and threatening.  Several squalls were draped over the back side of the Timpanogos, and appeared to be headed our way.  The weather continued to look promising. 

In the River Road South parking lot we encountered a few more vehicles than expected, considering it was a Sunday. We weren’t discouraged though, and quickly suited up and headed down stream, hoping some distance would leave the majority of folks behind.

Upon quick inspection, we found a few little fish rising to a smattering of small baetis. When we settled on a suitable piece of water further downstream, we also observed the sparse hatch, and a small trout or two rising to ingest them. It was early, and lunch was sounding good, and we had yet to string our rods up. We patiently settled in hoping the hatch would intensify and attract some of the rivers larger browns as the day went on.

After taking inventory of my fly selection I chose a Harrop CDC Thorax pattern to secure to my tippet. Having fished this area before I headed upstream to a small piece of water where on occasion I’ve found a decent fish rising. While studying the water I found a smattering of small brown trout up with their energetic rises being their give-away. After closer inspection though I noticed hidden among these rise forms, a nice-slow-eat. When its dark back broke the mirrored surface it became obvious to me that there was a much larger trout feeding among the mayhem.

By now Kyle had joined me. After a few tries, at the bigger brown, and ignores I switched to an emerger pattern. As the Turkey Baetis drifted over its feeding lane I was aiming for, the smaller juveniles were more than willing to play. They confirmed I was in the game, but the larger brown failed to show an interest, yet continued to steadily take the naturals. 

With years on the river, patience has been my guide more than once. I also understood that presentation is nine tenths of the law when fishing dry flies. Before trying for a different fish, or letting my mind wander into my fly box I let the rhythm of the day take over.  Three drifts later the fly disappeared. There was not a noticeable rise, just the realization that the emerger was no longer drifting through the pool. I gently lifted my rod and quickly felt weight. The brown exited the pool and jumped several times showing us its size. It was the brown I had been targeting.

It was a beautiful trout. A little bigger than we’d initially guessed with large black spots anointing its vibrant sides and nose. There were a few random red spots dispersed along its flank and upon its cheek that beautiful blue tinge that is indicative of a more mature fish, all set upon a canvas of butter yellow and pumpkin orange. We admired it briefly in the net, before letting it go and resuming our quest.

While I was fishing to this particular fish we had spotted several other nice fish working a little further up the pool. By now there were a good number of BWO’s compressed in the current seams, and as quickly as they appeared so did the rivers better fish.

I moved out from the pool to let Kyle stick a fish or two. His fish was in a little trickier spot than mine, tucked in-between two boulders and behind another, which made for tight quarters to get a fly into. With skill and patience he too caught the targeted fish and together we admired another butter yellow brown.

As the window of the hatch narrowed we moved upstream.  As we broke through a dense stand of willow Kyle suddenly stopped, and took a step back, before vocalizing what he'd just seen.  We backed away and approached the pool from below to find a pod of several good sized fish in an isolated pocket rising steadily to the lingering baetis.  I gave Kyle the first shot since I'd just landed a nice fish. After several unsuccessful attempts, we took turns at them rooting deep into our bag of tricks, trying a number of different patterns and presentations. In the failing light, we set prematurely several times, and continued to come up empty. Eventually we came to the conclusion that it was time to pack it in and agreed that some fish aren’t meant to be caught. After the day we had, we were both good with that.

Needless to say it was an awesome day. If we wanted to, we could have caught a lot of fish during the afternoon hatch. I’m sure others did, it was that kind of day.

As we walked back to the car the pod of browns that refused our offerings occupied most of our conversation. Overhead a patch of blue sky sailed by. It was a day that cooperated regarding the hatch and opportunity it created. My farewell to summer was regaled on the wings of the blue wings, and beautiful butter yellow browns rising.

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