Oregon Fly Fishing Report – Small Stream Outfitters & Guides

Some of my favorite things about fly fishing are seeing new places, going on adventures and meeting new people. So when I started packing for our family vacation to Michigan, I threw a few fly rods in the bottom of the bag. Rarely do I travel without one, and the fact that our lodging for the next week was to be on the banks of a 450 acre lake, just a stones throw from Lake Michigan, I packed three. Why take just one when you can take three? I condensed 20 fly boxes to 6, you never know what you’re going to need… especially considering I have never fished for bass before, tossed in some reels, tippet and other goodies and away we went.

My son is not yet a year old and feels that a life jacket is just too constricting when you’re learning to walk, so I had to find another angling partner. I had hoped that the Mickey Mouse pole would be a hit, but not so much. Next time…. Lucky for me, my father in law is an avid angler from Indiana and an expert on capturing and frying bluegills. I hadn’t caught one of those either, why not try.

We fished for a couple hours each morning, sipping our cups of coffee and casting dry flies from a pontoon style party barge, coaxing sunfish of all varieties out from around grass beds to sip dries. There were a few Hexagenia limbata (Hex) around at random times and plenty of mosquitos, which seemed to be a favorite of the little guys. I fished hopper dropper style with a 3wt for the sunfish and had those little buggers dialed in no time. I fished a large mayfly imitation on top and a small red serendipity below, they loved it. The bluegill and other sunfish varieties would only come up to feed when the lake was dead still, early morning and late evening, so once a breeze rippled the water each day, I switched to bass.

I experimented with different streamers and poppers throughout the week and had the most success on deep water clousers. I caught a few bass each morning session, from really small up to a pound or so, but nothing big. It was fun and they pulled well on a 4wt, but still no big ones. I know they live there, I’ve seen the shows, Jimmy and Joe-Bob can do it, why can’t I? Not that I felt any pressure, I wasn’t guiding, I was on vacation, fishing a lake in shorts and tee-shirt, casting a fly rod. Still it would be nice to get a good one.

On the very last morning of fishing we drifted over a weed bed not fished by use before. It was about 8-10 feet deep and I could just make out the tops of the weed piles under the broken surface of the water. I fan casted a #4 chartreuse and white clouser as we drifted slowly with the wind. I stripped once and felt the weight. I lifted and the fish immediately jumped, ahhh, a good one! Now I see why millions of people fish for these buggers. They pull on a 4wt. Still not a steelhead or salmon, but great fun just the same. I took me a minute or so to get him boat side, as he attempted to bury himself in the weeds a few times and jumped once more before coming to hand.

That did it, my trip was made. A change of pace, change of scenery and change of species was the perfect break in my Summer guiding schedule. As I boarded the plane to come home, I kept thinking, only two weeks to sea-run cutthroats. I’m refreshed and ready!

This short poem was written by a long time angling friend and captures the essence of Fall of the Oregon Coast. Enjoy.

in Fall
a poem by R. Christopher Anderson

After a summer waiting for rain
it came and left us in the night
and with all but the coldest fog burned away
By October sun’s faded light
Our thoughts balance on summer’s rays,
and approaching winter nights
a rising tide and fall freshet brings them through
fish running toward their journey’s end
A season of dust is washed from cedar boughs
That shade autumn’s fading frost
Blowing leaves stir memories not yet lost
A single curve of river or changing sky can bring them back
Of all the gravel paths that my soul knows
Amongst wood stove smoke and golden tamarack,
rusty machines, and the Coast Ranges ghostly posts,
Drift Creek road still haunts me most

Viewing Osprey on Oregon rivers is a regular occurrence. Like us, they are fishermen and good ones at that. I always enjoy watching them and it’s a rare treat to see them dive and catch a fish. They have never tried to grab a hooked fish from myself or a client, that is until yesterday.

I spent the day on the McKenzie with David from Kansas having a glorious time catching Rainbows and Cutthroats. Even with the sunny skies the hatchery rainbows were particularly aggressive and David’s rod was bent often. About halfway through our float, there’s a great riffle that always holds fish and is a favorite hang out spot for a pair of Osprey. Rich Youngers of Creekside Fly Shop has had client’s fish stolen on multiple occasions at this spot, but for whatever reason, it hadn’t happened to me. I had heard all the stories and saw all the pictures, so of course David and I were chatting about the birds as we approached and set anchor.

David made a cast with his streamer and instantly hooked up. I watched him as he fought the fish and just as I was about to reach over and grab the line to land it, a large splash startled us. An osprey was in the water, just feet in front of the boat. He took off with our fish in tow and now Dave had a 12″ rainbow and very large bird attached to his 5 weight! Awesome! “Break him off”, I yelled while laughing. He pulled back and away the bird went, back across the river. Now one less hatchery rainbow in the river… That alone was enough to make the day and certainly lightning couldn’t strike twice. As I tied on a new tippet and fly, Dave got out his camera to snap some photos of the other half of the Osprey pair, sitting in a tree across the river.

I finished the knot, stripped off some line and flicked a cast out the side of the boat, waiting while he finished snapping shots. As the fly swung in front of the boat (did I mention fishing was hot yesterday) the rod surged and now I had one on. “Get that camera ready” I said. And with that, she took off from the tree, flew across the river and started a dive on the fish. Not wanting to lose another fly, I shook the fish off right before she hit the water. Success!! She got the fish, I saved my fly and Dave snapped away. Count two for the Osprey. As she flew away, presumably to feed their babies, Dave and I chuckled as he made a cast and hooked another fish.

Now with the Ospreys fed, we can get on to catching more fish!

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Tight Lines,
Small Stream Outfitters