Stalking Wild Trout on Connecticut’s Small Streams
Spring Fishing THE Hammonasset trout management AREA
I crept down the steep back, grabbing the trunk of a sapling for support while trying to dodge the broken glass and poison ivy. Gingerly I waded through the shallow riffles, past a submerged old-style home radiator and over the slime-coated rocks. When I got to the opposite bank, I tiptoed over discarded bricks, fired long ago in some nearby kiln, and loose streamside boulders that threatened to pitch me into the deep bend pool if I wasn’t careful. There, 30 feet away, wild brown trout were sipping insects off the delicate line of foam that curled into a gentle slack water eddy. Like Quint hooking himself to his fighting chair in “Jaws,” I removed the size 16 Tan Caddis from the hook holder and gently stripped line off the reel. One, two false casts, then line, leader and tippet gracefully settled onto the water. The Caddis never had a chance. It had barely drifted a foot before it was sucked under by the trout. I set the hook. And, like Quint, I was into a ferocious fighter of a fish.
Fishing for wild trout has become a passion for me. It has taken me to many of the State’s Class 1 WTMAs (Wild Trout Management Areas) as well as nameless brooks most fishermen wouldn’t give a second look. Sure, I love the Farmington, and you’ll find me there an awful lot. But there’s nothing quite like the satisfaction one gets from bagging a wild fish, one that grew up with no knowledge of food pellets, feeding schedules, holding tanks, or stocking trucks. These are primal, wary, wanton creatures that, when hooked, fight like fish twice their size and if you’re going to catch one, you’d better bring your “A” game.
THE WATER
Connecticut currently has ten Class 1 WTMAs, defined by the DEP as “Abundant wild trout, not stocked.” Fishing here is with a single, barbless hook fly or an artificial. Catch and release only. No bait ever. Sidebar: I’m not going to list the names of the streams, or tell you how to get to them, not because I’m a secretive jerk, but because I consider them a precious resource. The last thing our Class 1 WTMAs need are hordes of fisherpeople or worse, poachers descending upon them. I figure that if you really want to fish them, you can do your homework and look them up in the DEP guide, find them on a map, and figure out how to get there. That’s what I did. Fishing Class 1s is not casual casting, it’s a commitment.
What’s more, fishing these streams will not appeal to everyone. They can be technically difficult to fish, and in many cases require special equipment and tactics. Some of them are less than pristine, and can give off a gamey odor in warmer weather. Poison Ivy and mosquitoes abound. You may have to hike hundreds of yards through steep ravines and dense, trailless woods. If you’re out of shape, you may want to hit the Stairmaster a few times before heading out. Sound like fun? Read on.
You need to take the DEP’s use of the word “abundant” with a grain of salt. Many could be the time you get skunked, especially if you go during poor water conditions or the mid-day sun. Rest assured, they’re in there. Getting them to come out to play is the challenge.
The waters are as varied as the state’s weather. Some of them are lilting meadow brooks, others are more a series of waterfalls than an actual stream. Some are so martini-clear and cold you’d swear you were in northern Maine, while others are in urban settings with stained flows and enough river bottom debris to start your own salvage yard. But they all hold wild trout, mostly brookies and/or browns, with an occasional surprise tiger trout for good measure. And because most of these streams haven’t been stocked in years, it’s the only way to know for sure that you’ve caught a wild fish or in the case of brook trout, a native wild fish.
Beyond the Class1s, there are hundreds of unnamed, or at least unstocked, small streams crisscrossing the state. The colder, canopy-covered ones can be wild brook trout bonanzas. Sadly, most are on private property, but the enterprising, courteous angler can always ask for permission from the landowner. My personal favorite tactic is to take my three-year-old with me. After all, who can turn down a polite tow-headed youngster who wants to fish with daddy?
TACKLE AND EQUIPMENT
Think light and small. Your 9 foot 5 weight rod serves you well on the Farmington, but in tight quarters it’s only going to make you miserable. I have a terrific Fenwick 6 foot 5-weight fiberglass rod that makes me weep with joy every time I use it in a densely wooded area. A 6-foot leader is all you need, and surprisingly, you don’t need micro tippet to fool the fish. I use 4x or 5x. When you hook trees and branches on every third cast, you’ll appreciate a tippet that gives you the luxury of getting medieval with a snagged branch.
Waders are a must, even on small streams. You’ll be in and out of deeper holes, climbing up riverside banks, and marching through forests of poison ivy. There are frequently no parking lots or trails, so be prepared to hike and bushwhack. Bug repellent: yes. Water if it’s a hot day, and snacks to keep you fueled. Cell phone in case you have an emergency, but don’t count on a signal. And because you could be in a remote spot, a small medical kit with some basic first aid supplies. I keep mine in an old mint tin tucked in the back of my vest.
Polarized glasses are a big help for spotting fish. I usually take my net, but keep it strapped up to my vest because I rarely use it. And though it may not be your thing, I find there’s nothing like a fine cigar (or two) to celebrate the landing of a wild trout. Plus, the smoke does a fine job of keeping the bugs away.
FLIES
You don’t need a lot of different flies in your box to fool wild fish. If it’s a brookie stream, all you really need is a size 16 Yellow Stimulator and size 16 Tan Caddis. Basically, any bushy attractor pattern will do, and if you want to go up or down a size you’ll be covered. The fish you’ll be catching are mostly going to be in the four to nine inch range, but I’ve caught them as small as two inches, and heard of 20+ inch fish being taken by DEP sampling crews. The point is, a smaller fish may need a smaller hook, so if you must catch that pesky little fink who keeps whacking your size 16, you might consider tying on a size 20. Brookies are the kamikaze of wild fish, and they will, with suicidal abandon, hit the same fly over and over. I’ve cast to a fish and gotten a dozen hits on a Stimulator before finally hooking him.
In the summer months, ants, crickets, hoppers, and beetles can be lethal. You can hedge your bets with a nymph dropper off a cricket or hopper. Nymphing works well when the fish aren’t rising. Think basic patterns like Copper Johns, Tung Head Caddis, Bead Head Pheasant Tails, Hares Ears, etc. Go small: 16-20. And don’t forget streamers. I had great success this spring stripping in Wooly Buggers and Zonkers. Streamers are particularly effective in high water conditions if you can find the room and a pool deep enough to fish them.
And of course, if you see a fly coming off the water, by all means match the hatch!
TACTICS
On Class 1 WTMAs, your approach is everything. Think s-t-e-a-l-t-h. You need to be very soft-footed as you walk to the stream, particularly the ones with soft clay banks. I remember earlier this year thinking I had done a good job sneaking up on a pool, only to stumble on my last step. The trout tore through the water in a Chinese fire drill before bolting for parts unknown. Needless to say, that pool was done for a while. Now, on the waterfall-type streams surrounded with rocks, you can get away with a more cavalier style of walking and wading. Just remember, these fish don’t see a lot of people, and any streamside movement they detect will trigger their flight reflex. Whenever possible, approach pools from the rear. Keep a low profile. Yes, you may have to crawl a little even through shallow water to get where you need to be to catch fish.
Ever fished Greenwoods on the Farmington? You could false cast out to your backing in that pool. On many WTMAs, false casting is neither advisable nor even doable, thanks to canopy and streamside vegetation. (Please resist the temptation to break off that branch you just hooked. It provides much-need shade in the summer.) If you’re going to fish small streams, you’ll need to become adept at the bow-and-arrow cast, the roll cast, and what I call the drift cast. If you’re unfamiliar with the first two, there are plenty of on-line references and tutorials. The drift cast isn’t something I invented, but I have practiced and perfected it to the point where I can reach spots, unseen by the fish, that were previously out of my fishing range.
Use the drift cast to reach a pool you can’t sneak up on from behind. On one of the Class1s I go to, there’s a terrific little bend pool with a massive log fall over it; it’s virtually impossible to fish it from the tail of the pool. Not to worry. I sneak to a spot about 40 feet above the downed tree, strip off some line, and feed the line, leader, and fly into the current. I start stripping off line to continue drifting the fly to just under the log. The fly line, and therefore the fly, move at the speed of the current, creating a natural drift. No takes? Load the rod tip, and shoot the fly half way upstream, and repeat.
Since many of these streams don’t allow you to fish streamers at a 90-degree angle to the current (due to stream size and the fact that you’d spook the fish) use the drift cast to drift your streamer down through a pool. You can then strip the fly in, and repeat.
Sometimes the drift cast works too well. I had discovered a gorgeous little brookie stream in March that had a 120-degree bend pool that looked extremely fishy. Problem one was that it was so covered with collapsed saplings and brush there was no way to present the fly other than to drift cast. Problem two was that there was a three-inch brookie that would nip at, miss, and sink the fly before it could get to the target area I believed held his big brother. The solution? The drift cast with a twist: place your dry fly on a concave dead leaf and float the leaf down through the current, over the pesky little fish. Just short of your target area, gently tug the line and pull the fly off the leaf (this takes some practice, but it can be done). BANG! There was the 8-inch brookie I knew was hiding in there.
One nice thing about small brookie streams is that you can sometimes get away with wet fly swings using a dry, or even skating the dry through the current. Try dangling a Stimulator in the current and see what explosive strikes you can trigger.
Handle fish as little as possible, and then always with wet hands. Once the trout is close it will frequently shake itself off if you just grab your leader or tippet. In hot weather the fish are under stress, so don’t overplay them, and keep them in the water if you can. Exposing a fish to 90 degree air is a huge shock to their system. Remember, if you kill a wild fish, the DEP isn’t coming back in a month to replace it. Likewise, don’t hit the same stream every other day for a week. Give the trout a break. They’re not going anywhere, and conditions permitting, they’ll be even bigger and stronger next year.
A FISH STORY
His name is Gus, and he lives in Brook. Gus is a 9” brook trout, and smart or at least careful for a fish. He lives in a bathtub-sized pool behind a rock, just above a one-foot waterfall, and I’ve semi-hooked him a couple dozen times. I always know it’s Gus because of his size (this is a brook in every sense of the word, and he has very distinctive coloring). Gus likes to whack whatever I drift over him, but he just refuses to slaughter the fly. It’s our little game, and we love playing it. But I’m competitive, and I’m betting I can out-stubborn Gus. And when that day comes, I’m going to shake his fin. Offer him a cigar. Then happily send him back to his comfortable little home on this gorgeous woodland stream.
It was been many months since the old fishing line had been into the water. The winter and the times between outings on the river did seem to get longer this past year. Cabin fever must have set in as I checked over the fly line and tackle last night; inspecting / retying knots, a new leader along with straightening the fly box. The following day was to be spent out on the Hammonasset River. Snow was still on the ground. Many months had past since being on the water and fishing. I miss hearing the sounds of the water running through the woods, tumbling over rocks and the sights of wildlife. The weather for a change the next few days was to be above freezing, imagine that. I hoped that the late morning sunlight brought the fish from the rivers depths. Having helped stocked again this year with the Dept of Environmental Protection, we have had our wintry conditions during March, yet the snows this year are still deep, unusual for the month. Atleast the river is clear of ice and when the spring melt does take place the rivers will run wonderfully wild once again.
Catching the first fish of the season is a huge milestone for me. As my Dad would say, “ Your on the Board. “ Today, that achievement was reached. Had met a few anglers along the river. We were all searching for a good spot and our first trout of the season. Fellow TU member and friend of mine met at one of our favorite fishing pools. We knew each fish from weeks before when we hauled and floated them to the river to be released. We were careful to put the fish in protected areas out of sight from predators. The trout stocked this year are just beautiful, nice colorful Rainbows, strong fish. They were rising today and the dorsal fins broke the top water film. I casted several small sz 18’s hackles that were tied from this winter, yet a Dry Fly would not be taken. Noticing the Caddis covered many rocks and a small Dunn like fly would pop out of quite pockets of the pool and the small black stoneflies were about along with the rock caddis it was time for a different approach. It was time to catch that first fish of the year, put the fly out and get into the zone. On the first drift it was pure excitement. We hooked some beautiful trout. A nymph with a glass bead and peacock herl was the key. The fish instinctively hungered for it on almost each cast. When drifting the line the fly would slowly sink, drift with the current and then the leader would show some drag, it would pause slightly, then a tug. It was time to lift the rod and gently set the hook using the natural bend of the fly rod. I got on the board today. I can not wait to get back again and to be on the bank of the stream.
The Grey Ghost
March 2005.
