While I make my home in northern Colorado, I’ll never have one of those fancy green and white “Native” stickers on the back of my fish wagon. When I moved here two years ago, I fully expected that I’d need to change my trout-chasing tactics a bit, pick up a few new flies, and generally adjust my expectations before hitting the river. A few days on the water showed that I may have underestimated the differences. But I’d like to think that I’ve evolved as a fisherman to the point where fishing is more than just catching fish: trout fishing, specifically fly fishing in moving water, is fascinating to me in large part because it a constant learning experience. The river, the weather, and trout change on a daily basis, necessitating an evolution on the part of the angler. And what better way to ramp up the learning curve than to load up the truck with various sundry rods, reels, flies, and other equipment and move halfway across the country?
With as many transplants as I see on various internet forums and meet on stream, I figure I’m not the only one to make the shift from “back East” to fly fishing in the promised land. So I’ve set pen to paper to document some of the differences and commonalities I’ve found. What follows can be variously viewed as personal therapy for the author, a refresher for fellow transplants, and a lesson plan for those who are just now loading up the truck somewhere east of the Mississippi.
The Rivers of the Midwest
At the most basic level, an organism’s environment determines what it eats, where, and when. By extension, environment determines what fish we target, where, when, and by what methods. The differences in natural history between the Midwest and Rocky Mountain regions have a profound effect on fishing tactics, and so this is where we begin our discussion.
The Wisconsinan Glaciation, the lumber barons of the late 1800’s, the industrial revolution, development and tourism have all combined to produce river systems in the upper Midwest that are characterized by modest gradient, sandy bottoms, lots of debris, and diminished water quality, including rising late summer water temperatures. With the exception of the Driftless Area of Wisconsin and the occasional spring fed waterway elsewhere, most of the cold water fisheries of the upper Midwest are swamp fed in the early season, relying on rainfall and forest cover to maintain temperatures and water levels in late summer. In addition, most of the trout streams of the upper Midwest are no more than a day’s drive from the Great Lakes, the largest fresh water resource in the world. Given the abundance of water, there is much less of a tendency to manage the resource right down to the teaspoon, as is done in the West.
The result is a suite of river systems that have been purged of their native grayling and dominated by the legacy of the first plantings of German brown trout in the U.S. Stunted brook trout abound and the rare rainbow is considered a prize. Sand, gravel, and silt are intermingled with deadfall and large woody debris in the riverbed, resulting in diverse hatches. Mayflies, particularly the large burrowing varieties most prized by Midwestern trout fisherman, are prolific and relatively predictable. For example, Michigan anglers can depend upon heavy hatches of light and dark Hendricksons at the end of April and beginning of May, followed by extended hatches of two species of Sulphurs, followed by the glamour hatches of brown drakes, Isonichia, and Hexegenia. Tricorythoides, mahoganies, caddises, and a smattering of terrestrials round out the summer. With the notable exception of the Tricos, none of these flies is smaller than size 16 and all of these hatches can be successfully pursued with dry flies exclusively. The Midwest angler need only worry about size 18 or smaller flies during Marinaro’s “white hell” and in early spring and late fall when the olives make their appearance. Summer also provides the perfect opportunity to pursue the largest and most reclusive residents of the river with size 2 mouse patterns and waking flies long after civilized fisherpersons have retired for the night.
Rivers of the Rocky Mountain West
Mine spoils, urban development, the introduction of non-native species and hordes of tourists certainly impact our Western waterways, but the primary impact, for better and worse, is probably the development of dams to satisfy ever-growing water supply and power generation demands. The changes have led to excellent fishing for rainbows, cutthroat-rainbow hybrids, and brown trout, but severely reduced range for native cutthroat trout and the near extinction of bull trout. In areas, whirling disease has decimated rainbow trout populations that only now are rebounding.
The rivers that tumble out of the mountains are fed primarily by snowmelt and are subject to feast or famine through the year. Many rivers are moving so much water as to be unwadeable and often unfishable for a month or more in late spring and early summer as the mountains shed their winter blanket. This runoff period is probably one of the biggest adjustments for the Eastern fly fisher as most Rocky Mountain waterways will be out of fishing shape at precisely the time that Eastern and Midwestern anglers are chasing the prolific hatches of spring and early summer. The Western angler needs to learn to read the water in different conditions and to learn where the fish lie at different water levels. I was stunned when I first stepped into Western waters by how fast that water was moving downhill. The Midwestern wader arriving in the Rockies must learn to shuffle more and take fewer large steps or spend lots of wet days on the water. Boulder-strewn substrates of gravel, small stones, and rocks the size of softballs or bowling balls are norm for Rocky Mountain freestone streams.
I have generally found Western mayfly and caddis hatches to be less predictable than those in the Midwest, but every bit as fun to fish with the dry fly when you catch it just right. The water supply and temperature govern the insect fauna and hatches here as much as the calendar. Late winter or early spring baetis will bring a concentrated pod of risers up top in the tailout of your favorite pool or run. The Mother’s Day caddis hatch on the Ark is a thing to behold, and catching the elusive salmonfly hatch can make one’s entire season. Green drakes will astound fisherman on select waters and you can always raise a fish on a caddis during the summer months. Whether it’s Tricos on the upper North Platte or the Dream Stream, PMDs on… well, pretty much anywhere, or hoppers and beetles on the Cache La Poudre, there’s always a hatch to chase, but most of us spend the majority of our time fishing below the surface.
What About Tailwaters?
Tailwaters are generally viewed negatively by the Midwestern flyfisherman unless he or she is among those chasing lake-run fish in the spring and fall. Trout populations tend to diminish below dams in the Midwest, for a number of reasons. Nearly all Midwestern states have laws or regulations in place that require dams to be bottom draw structures to lower water temperatures and protect fish populations below dams, but these regulations are seldom, if ever, enforced. Furthermore, only recently have release regimes been put in place to protect the ecosystem and ensure adequate flows for fish populations.
In the West however, most dams are either engineered as bottom draw structures, or the water supply remains cool enough (at least in the upper reaches of the watershed) to support healthy populations of large trout below the dam itself. In many areas, minimum flow regimes have been established to ensure water conditions beneficial to the fish downstream. The geology, water temperatures and chemistry below Western dams combine to create tremendous productivity and biomass, resulting in some truly large fish. Witness the Taylor, the Blue, the Frying Pan, Grey Reef, the Bighorn, and Madison, among others. Can you tell that tailwaters have become my new favorite place to fish? Tailwaters also tend to be intensely humbling learning experiences for the uninitiated.
Putting it together: changing tactics
The Rocky Mountain West provides a real diversity of choices for the flyfisherman on any given day. The drive to a coldwater fishery in the Midwest for me was typically a long jaunt from any of the urban population centers. Sure, you’re living high on the trout fishing hog if you live in Grayling, MI, but growing up in southern lower Michigan meant a minimum of 4 hours to the stream. Even residents of Michigan’s “Century Circle” have a drive of up to 100 miles to get to fishable trout water. No introduction is needed to the diversity of water available to the rocky mountain angler. Plop a pin in a map in Denver, Cheyenne, Boise, or Billings and draw a two hour radius and you’re likely to intersect more than one destination fishery.
The amount of deadfall in rivers of the East and Midwest mean that I’d just as soon float two $20 bills down the river as spend a day nymphing. Either way the result is the same… I’m out forty bucks. There is simply just too much lumber in the river, at too many odd angles, for me to be willing to drift a double nymph rig in any but the safest riffles and runs. Heavily forested rural areas provide plenty of deadfall and the use of many Eastern rivers as transportation for lumber in the 1800’s has created a plethora of what many guides call “retail holes”. When your client is paying for flies, it’s important to take them to visit these stretches of river just before your car payment is due. I’m being facetious, of course, but the fact remains that most Eastern and Midwestern anglers will chase a hatch and fish the dry fly.
As a result, a Midwestern day on the water isn’t necessarily a full day on the water. The spring Hendricksons allow me to sleep in and hit the water from 2 to 4pm, eat dinner, and return to the river for the evening spinner fall. Sulphurs will be a late morning or early afternoon show as the hatch begins, gradually getting later in the day as the hatch progresses. The arrival of the big burrowing mayflies, brown drakes and Hexegenia, means I can pull on the waders as the sun goes down, returning home as the cock crows. The exception to the dry fly theme is during the anadromous runs of salmon, steelhead, and lake resident brown trout. The risk-reward equation is dramatically different when you’re talking about sacrificing a few flies to tangle with large, powerful fish in tight quarters.
Contrast the above statements with how I’ve spent my time on the water since moving west. To me, fishing in the West means packing a lunch (and maybe a dinner) and spending the entire day on the water. The Rocky Mountain angler can show up to the river most days and reasonably expect to catch fish for most of the day on a double nymph rig in all but the most extreme conditions. Almost all of my fishing since moving west has been with this rig and has been much more productive that any of my ill-conceived nymphing forays back in the Midwest.
A great shock for the Eastern initiate to the Rocky Mountain region is the change in fly size and diversity. My fly boxes for the Midwest contained a fairly modest selection of standard patterns in sizes 10 to 16, with much larger offerings for burrowing mayfly hatches. Sure, many rivers in the West will produce fish on size 4 bitch creek nymphs and other large stonefly imitations, and the venerable prince nymph will take fish in pretty much any size you’ve got in your box. But when I think Rocky Mountain fishing, particularly on tailwaters like the Bighorn, South Platte, and Grey Reef, and even on my local freestoners, I think midges in sizes 18 to 24, frequently on light tippet. In addition, there seem to be a much larger number of fly patterns carried and used in the West. My personal boxes are now much more diverse, and most anglers I fish with are constantly looking for the new “new” thing. While there is some cross-pollination back to Eastern flyfisherman, most folks I know in my old haunts will target each hatch with the same parachute, thorax, and Catskill style dries they’ve been fishing for years. For example, only within the last two or three years has the “sprout” style emerger pattern become popular in the fly shops of my youth. The Robert’s Drake parachute-style pattern has been in use since the mid-1900s and continues to be the standard pattern for the Midwest’s large mayflies.
Most fly fisherman I know are gear-heads. For many of us it is a necessary hazard of the addiction that we need to set aside at least one corner of the garage, basement, or storage shed to store the trappings of the sport. It seems only right then that we chat a bit about the equipment doesn’t it? Before moving west, I had no idea what a phenomenal fishing tool the 8 ½ foot 4 weight rod could be. Almost all my rods were in 5 weight, and without exception, were 9 feet long. Oh, and I had a 7 ½ foot 3 weight for the Trico hatch and small stream work. Based on my on stream encounters with other anglers and the rod libraries of my companions, it seems this is a pretty typical scenario for the Midwestern fly angler. My rod library now includes only two five weights and more 3 and 4 weight rods than I can count on one hand. In addition I’ve added a couple 6 weights and kept my steelhead rod (a 9’9” 7 weight) for windy days on larger tailwaters.
For all the differences in environment and tactics, my experiences in Michigan all prepared me for successful fishing forays in the Rockies. Sure, I had a few tough days on the water but if all the days were easy, I’d lose interest. Fly fishing, to me, seems an awful lot like my father used to describe his passion for golf: every once in a while, you go out and do just well enough to keep you coming back for additional punishment. Slightly different fishing tools, more diverse fly selections, accommodating river environments and trout for the nymph fisherman, more miles of river rolling and boiling down the slopes of the Rocky Mountains than I could have dreamed of while living in the Midwest… and in the end, it just trout, isn’t it? The differences that seem so significant at first glance, all align to produce the same experience of the cast and drift that I experienced as a resident of the Midwest. The right fly, in the right place, at the right time will produce a trout; it’s the satisfaction of learning exactly what comprises these three “rights” that keeps us coming back for more.
About the author:
Brian Noyle is a GIS software developer, fly fishing guide, and production fly tier currently residing in Fort Collins, CO. When he’s not putting his fingers to the computer keyboard, he may be picking a bluegrass tune or standing in a favorite local trout stream, pining away for the spring Hendrickson hatch on his home waters while trying to tie on a #24 midge.