Pounding Mary's Hole...okay maybe tapping



Farmington River - Satan's Kingdom



It was the end of summer 2008 when I last fished the Farmington River in Connecticut. Above is a picture of Satan's Kingdom where I had fished many times. Since then I've had a few portable GPS's stolen from my vehicle.  The greatest tragedy was not the loosing of the devices themselves, but all the fishing locations I had been to and saved with their own special names to remind me.  And...those who know me at all, know that I am so severely directionally challenged that, finding my way back home without a GPS is questionable.  Trying to remember the way back to fishing holes years ago - are you kidding me?

So returning for the first time to the river (not Satan's Kingdom, by the way) where I started this incredible journey was filled with fond memories and much anticipation...

Day 1 - Oh, but of course, as to be expected, the weather chose not to cooperate.  It was very cold and terribly windy.  Trying to get a decent drift was all but impossible.  I was flipping into the wind and rather than starting my drifts upstream, it was more like even with me. Then the next gust would pick up the line and blow it so fast downstream, I'm sure the flies looked like they were propelled by rocket jet engines.  Certainly not at all suspicious looking and it's a wonder that I even got the maybe five bites that I did.  The one that I did actually hook, you guessed it - broke off!  It was not how I envisioned my first day back on the Farm.

A pheasant tail Frenchie

Day 2 - With great hopes for an improvement upon the day before, I licked my wounds, armed with Fred's (the one who got me hooked on fly fishing) specially tied Frenchies, and headed back to the Farmington. The Frenchie in this photo uses a gold bead head with darker pheasant tail, and bright orange thread for the hot spot, although the standard is usually a lighter color pheasant tail. Fred also adds lead wire to weight them, prefers brass or black beads, and sometimes uses hare's ear dubbing as a variation from the pheasant tail, with hook sizes ranging from #18 - #12.  I also found variations that use all dubbing or for just the hot spot as in the photos below.



Frenchies with thread hot spots and dubbing hot spots

Frenchie with dubbing

 

Fred was determined to make it a great fishing day for me. He knows the Farmington like a childhood friend, since he grew up with it;  every riffle, every seam, the hidden shelves, the most productive feeding lanes, the hidden logs and rocks. Even with his warnings, I still managed to get snagged on them - yes more than once! In short, he knows all the great holes!  It had warmed up slightly and the wind had died down just enough to make the fishing conditions better.


Fred with his first catch

Our first stop, I didn't even get a nibble, at least that I could see or feel.  It didn't take him long to land a couple of really nice browns - Show Off!  So he graciously gave me his hot spot and I did finally get some bites, but missed them.  Fred, on the other hand, ventured elsewhere.  Then he caught a rainbow and another brown.  At this point, I'm really hating him and tell him so, as I'm attempting to untangle my 3 - fly mess.  I can't remember the exact timing, but I did actually hook a few, but lost them before they were netted.  Slightly better, the fish were biting, but still nothing to show for in my hands.

 

Fred with another brown



Fred with yet another brown!

Fred, finally took pity on me, gave up fishing, and let me use his rod, which by the way was awesome! It was a Grey's 4wt 10' rod that was so light and made it much easier to see a hesitation or movement than mine.  I think I'll blame it on the rod - not! My rod is a great rod too (Sage Z-Axis 4wt 9'), but the leader was giving me grief.  It just never straightened out well and it was very hard to see changes with the wind still slightly blowing.  He helped me really work on my drifts and had me checking on everything.

A couple of times I checked and wasn't really expecting it to be a fish, maybe bottom or a leaf or twig (which I caught my share of), and wouldn't you know, it was a fish.  I didn't set the hook on those checks well enough or lifted the wrong direction right out of it's mouth.  But yes, I did finally learn from all my mistakes and set the hook into a nice brown.  He took the weighted Frenchie (that I had never heard of before Fred showed them to me) out of the flies I was desperately slinging.  Anything to increase my odds, right?  Yes, I am the tangle queen and especially with 3 flies.  At last, to hold that beautiful brown in my hands, made it all worth it.

 

Finally a nice Brownie in my hands!

Tiny stocked rainbow

I was able to catch a stocked rainbow, but lost many more along with one more memorable opponent that kept jumping, flipping, and fighting until he escaped downstream.  But the last trout of the day, was the one I'll never forget.  It had been a hard core day of non-stop fishing - no bathroom breaks, no food, no water - just nymphing!  We were finally working our way back to the bank, when Fred says, "Most people just get right out of the water, but I like to fish this before I get out. There's usually bigger browns here."  I looked at the barely noticeable difference in coloration, sandy bottomed shallow waters right before the bank in between slightly faster water.  It was just as Kelly Galloup had described in his streamer fishing class.  Bigger trout are lazy, hang out in calmer waters that don't take a lot of energy, no more than a couple feet deep, and most of the time you're standing or walking right over them.  A couple of drifts and bam, there he was!

The BIG Brownie that would make my day!  All else had been in preparation for landing this big guy and the fight was on.  He immediately took the line and started running downstream.  It didn't take much to get him on the reel as he sped away.  I kept the rod up, feeling it severely bending to the strength of his resistance, doing it's job, as I tried to get him turned back upstream. He was a brute and was intent on breaking free. He shot in every direction twisting and turning upstream, the far bank, then straight towards me, and then immediately away from me, around and past Fred, while Fred's yelling at me, "Do the dance! Do the dance!"  I had to turn full circle and keep the line away from Fred as he tried to get close enough to net my impressive opponent.  Many times he was maybe only a foot or two just out of reach and I could feel this bruiser was tiring.  It looked as though Fred was seconds from netting my worthy rival, but he suddenly regained his will to not be caught and took off in a flurry.

Oh the sound of the reel....zinging as I watched that elusive brown head away yet again. Once more, we played the game and it was exhilarating as I would slowly bring him in closer, gaining line on the reel and then having it stripped away less and less.  I was moving him back towards me. This time would be the moment I had awaited. Just as he changed direction and went the other way around Fred, and I was doing the turn around dance again, with my rod as high as I could reach to go over Fred, the line got caught on him. The battle was lost to that beauty of a brown as he broke the line and headed straight to freedom downstream. It wasn't going to be a Clint Eastwood day after all.  It would be the day the big one got away. The end to a great day at Mary's Hole on the Farmington River.