Some trips you go to catch fish. Some trips you go to be with your people. The best ones manage to do both and somehow this late-May run to Henderson Springs did exactly that, even if it took a couple of days to warm up – this being the eighth annual Dirk and Jim memorial trip also known as the  “Pescadores”.

We were a smaller crew than usual this year. With two of the originals now gone and four others sidelined on injured reserve, it hit me that, as the youngest of the bunch, I might someday be the last man standing — or at least the last one still making the pilgrimage with Wayne, the CEO of Henderson Springs.  Bob, John, Jerry, Trent, and Peter couldn’t make it, leaving just four of us: Wayne Holloway, Mike, Norm, and me — the die-hards still chasing May dry-fly fishing like it’s a religion rather than a hobby.

Thursday: Rain, Cold, and Junk Flies on Big Lake

We arrived Thursday and hit the water for a half day, which is tradition. Tradition does not guarantee good fishing.  The weather was cold and punishing rain and thunder from the start. I headed to Big Lake. The ponds were all at maximum capacity from the wet weather, but the warm spell we’d had before the rain had pushed water temperatures up just enough to dull the bite. The hatches were nearly nonexistent. We spotted some Callibaetis, but nothing worth getting excited about.  I caught fish maybe a dozen by afternoon but it required grinding through with junk flies. The fishing wasn’t even half of what it had been two months ago when I’d been up with the group. That night, it rained hard and dumped a huge amount of water on the property.

 Tuesday: The Calamitous Hatch and a Discovery

Tuesday dawned overcast, and I was hoping the clouds would clear and warm things up enough for real dry fly action. They didn’t and a persistent wind made things harder. I had planned to fish Frog Lake, but another cabin group had claimed it, so I pivoted to Clear Lake, which sits in a bit of a natural windbreak and tends to hatch Calibaetis heavier.    That decision changed the trip.

From around 9 a.m. to 1 p.m., Clear Lake exploded with one of the most impressive Callibaetis hatches I’ve seen there. Fish were popping off everywhere.  Mike and I were alone on the lake at opposite ends, just nailing multiple opportunities like we actuall had it dialed in.  It seemed like most of the fish left in the lake were on top  actively eating calibaetis duns  vs a roaming group of surface feeding fish  making its way around the lake. Mike was surely in double digits and  I ended up with about fifteen fish on dry flies some on junk flies too for a total of roughly twenty-seven on the day. I could have caught more if I had not  committed entirely to dries but like the song goes,  “dry flies over junk flies”   any day.

But the bigger story was the fly.

By mid-morning I had it completely dialed in: a size 16 black Missing Link. And when I say dialed in, I mean absurdly dialed in. While the other guys were rotating through size 16 Parachute Adams and various Callibaetis patterns — all good flies, proven fish catchers — I was getting eats on nearly every decent cast to a feeding fish. Not the old “inspect it from  three feet,  slowly get a closer look and refuse at the last second” kind of takes either. These fish were moving to the fly with zero hesitation and eating it like a natural.  Much like I attack Mellisa’s Slow smoked Brisket.

I think the reason comes down to one thing: where the fly rides in the water.

Parachute patterns sit high, mostly floating on top of the surface film. They’re actually not that different from a Missing Link in profile, except for the tail and hackle keeping the thorax suspended above the meniscus. The Missing Link is built differently. Its Antron V-wing can suggest anything from a spinner to a flying ant. The slightly flashy thorax hangs down in the film like a hatching mayfly or midge pupa. Then the posted deer hair wing keeps the abdomen riding above the surface like a crippled insect struggling to escape. The result is a fly that rides semi-submerged — not quite a dry fly, not quite an emerger, but something vulnerable and transitional.

And trout absolutely lose their minds over vulnerable.

On Tuesday, that little black Missing Link checked every possible food box on the lake: flying ants, Callibaetis spinners, dark caddis, emerging duns, even beetles. At some point it stopped being a fly and became a Swiss Army knife with a hook in it.

Wednesday: Visual Fishing, a Hex Nymph, and New Fish

Wednesday I fished Big Lake all day solo, on the far side, which I’d been wanting to do all trip since Frog Leg had been occupied. The morning was slow in terms of risers, but the ones that were up were catchable. I’d paddle over near a rise, find the cruising fish, get the fly in front of it, and more often than not watch it eat. Twelve fish in the morning – #16 missing link.  I had pumped a fish from this lake and it was full of large chironomids, flying ants  and calibaetis nymphs and duns.

After lunch I crossed over to Clear Lake  wondering if the crew there had a great dry fly morning like yesterday and halfway hoping that they had left the lake to have lunch.   When I pulled up around noon, the parking lot was full and they where all still on the lake.   Instead of launching,  I chose to make lunch in the van and watch them fish.   Wayne said the morning was tough.  I guess the wind never died completly and the bugs never stayed on top to triger a significant lake hatch.    Wayne and Norm came off thelake around 2:00 and I decided to launch and hope for some evening action.  Mike and I stayed at it all afternoon.   Around 3 p.m. the wind died and then it got interesting again.   The fish were visibly cruising just below the surface, actively searching for bugs but there were much less bugs on the water than yesterday.   Both Mike and I were doing well switching flies as different bugs would land on our tubes.  Mike saw fish eating big  black caddis and even one ate a full sized bumble bee that he had brushed into the water.     If you could time the cast right and land the fly in their path, you could watch them accelerate toward it and take it. Pure visual fishing. It was some of the most satisfying dry fly angling I’ve had in years. Another twenty-plus fish on the day.

Mellisa and Wayne showed up around 6:00 as Mike and I struggled to leave the lake to make dinner.   How I loath leaving the lake when fishing is great.  I think both mike and I were waiting for the other to make the first move to get out.   While changing flies,   Melissa showed up lakeside and  started ringing a dinner chime interupping my knot concetration and I new it was time to leave.    Pretty funny that she came all the way out to get us knowning we were haveing a hard time leaving fish for her Brisket that she had been meticulously cooking all day.

That evening, Melissa’s  Brisket was magnificent.  We had an after dinner campfire and  I brought my spey trout rod rigged with a hex nymph praying for a little early Hex action at dusk.  but I had a feeling.  Sure enough, after dark, fish were rising along the shoreline. And then I spotted them: one or two honest-to-god hex flies coming off the water. I started working the hex nymph along the bank, waking it slowly, and hooked a big fish waked it for 3 feet and devoured it in 6 inches of water.   I lost it but hooking it filled that void of not booking a hex trip at Henderson this year,   Im thinking of putting together a 4 person hex trip for next year in JUNE.     Worth noting:  Mark Henderson planted made a second fish plant just about a month ago  to help revive the late season.   These fish in the second plant were something different. Longer, fatter, heavier in the shoulder, and silver like steelhead rather than the more colored, rainbow-hued fish from earlier in the season. Whatever strain these are, they’re impressive. This fall hex season is going to be something extra.

Thursday Morning: Pony Lake Humbles Me

The last half-day, I decided to try Pony Lane — a pond I’d been curious about all trip that supposedly had received a heavy stocking.   Nobody had touched it all week, so my expectations were sky high. In my mind, I was saving the best fishing for the final stretch.  Well… not exactly.   I worked that pond hard. Every inch of its deep bottom got the full treatment: my go-to leeches, pulse discs, chironomids, nymphs, and every junk fly I had confidence in. I methodically combed that little pond from one side to the other. For all that effort, I managed exactly one fish on a deep fly.  Either somebody had quietly pounded it after the stocking, or the fish had scattered into places I simply couldn’t reach or figure out.  By late morning I retreated back to Big Lake with Maria’s blessing. I sat on the bank eating lunch, lazily tossing an indicator rig between bites, and eventually scratched out one final fish before heading home.  Some days the lake gives. Some days it just stares back at you.   That’s the game.

By the Numbers

Monday PM Big Lake:  ~12  on mainly Junk flies
Tuesday-Clear Lake   ~27  on dry  Dry flies  a few on  junk flies
Wednesday – Big Lake in morning 10 on junk flies 2 dry flies.  Clear Lake in the afternoon  ~15 on  Dry flies 4 on Junk Flies
Thursday AM -Pony Lane + Big Lake  1  seal bugger with pulse disc

Solitude, Friendship and Henderson Springs

*The following reflection was shared at the campfire by Norm, and it deserves to be printed exactly as he wrote it.*

We live in a world marked by constant change and confusion where our attention is pulled in every which way. Our 21st century American lives of urban living and the demands of technology has resulted in an epidemic of outdoor deprivation syndrome. Normal activities such as hunting, fishing, hiking, shooting, camping are considered foreign and even exotic. It is not surprising that many recent opinion polls “seeking what men really want” claim we men just want to be left alone. Being alone can be complex or simply heading to the outhouse with a book or magazine, or just living a quiet life.

Fly fishing was my attempt to acquire solitude. I never liked to see other people on the water when I was fishing because they spoiled why I was there: solitude.

Ironically, my solitude suffered a set back in 1992 when Robert Redford’s movie “A River Runs Through It” came out and boy, did it popularize fly fishing. I remember when driving to Montana in the summer of 1995 seeing numerous anglers lining the Henry’s Fork of the Snake River and a mile long string of cars parked along the highway.

At that moment I believed fly fishing was no longer my obscure cult pastime but had become mainstream. But I got over being a spoiled sport after I retired and left my San Francisco practice in 2003 thanks to friendships and to Henderson Springs.

Let me tell you why both are so meaningful to me.

First and foremost I am fishing next to friends with whom I have a mutuality of soul in our love of fly fishing. I believe each of us lives out this mutuality of soul and love for each other when we are here at Henderson Springs or even when at home sharing by text messages tips and flies mostly about our next trip here.

Second, there is for me relaxation and connecting with nature. Henderson Springs’ 5 lakes are situated in beautifully forested mountains. There are no motor boats, so quiet complements my experience of the surroundings. While fishing I can listen, look about, feel a breeze on my cheeks, feel my feet get cold from the water, and become part of a different world. Communing with nature induces relaxation and slowing down from an otherwise hectic and overstimulated world. And this, in turn, helps me reflect on life, organize my thoughts, know myself better, and usually find inner peace.

Moreover, there are also challenges and fulfillment for me when fly fishing here. I have learned about the life of trout and other aquatic creatures thus fostering in me more respect for the natural world. Each lake fishes differently and adds to the challenge of figuring out how to induce the take. And, with my competitive nature I love exercising patience, dexterity, perseverance, strategy and the grace of a perfect cast or presentation to induce the take which, in turn, brings a sense of accomplishment and pride when I fill my net.

I love other aspects of my stay here and I believe each of you do too. We stay in sumptuous lodging. At breakfast, at lunch or at the end of the day we happily converse with each other sharing our experiences and thoughts of the day. We all love and experience good food provided by Melissa (or our own hands), and we enjoy fine wines, cocktails and hors d’oeuvres to accompany our sharing. And to our good fortune, Meng with his go pro camera, terrific writing and editing documents our shared experiences resulting in lasting memories that strengthens our friendship.

SO, we have the best of all worlds here at Henderson Springs with both solitude and the solidarity of brotherly fly fishers who love experiencing good food and spirits, communing with nature, fooling wily trout, and sharing our new and intricate ways to lure fish to the hook. As fly fishers we are truly blessed to share such good company in such lovely surroundings.

Amen Brother Norm..