Gear I Use: HCD-Floater

Field Journal Entry (September 6, 2015)  I forgot to take my headlamp out of the truck and stick it in my waders.  It’s dark, it’s 8:00 PM, and I’ve stumbled my way back upriver to where I parked along the highway.  I got to the boulder garden at 5:00 PM, threw a hopper-copper-dropper rig for two hours with a 12-foot floating line, switched over to a single hopper pattern for the last hour, and caught around twenty browns.  I didn’t count.  This is what September in the canyons is all about!

September and October on the Arkansas River...one of my favorite times of the year!  Just right for a HCD-Floater rig and a tenkara rod.

Over the past 30 years or so I’ve come to realize that there are very few, if any, absolutes when it comes to fly angling.  However, there ARE some things that work undeniably well, and John Barr’s three-fly system, the hopper-copper-dropper (HCD), is one of those, and there’s no reason why this can’t be done with a tenkara rod!  There are times and places for going trad, and my full-flex rod, 3.5 level line, and eyeless sakasa kebari patterns are what I go for.  Some days I’ll fish that way with only one pattern, and it’s very enjoyable.  Then there are other times and places when it’s equally enjoyable to test the capabilities of a tenkara rod.  That’s what this article is about.

In an article on flyfisherman.com I read a while back, co-written by Barr and Charlie Craven, they had this to say about the HCD…

“Barr’s three-fly method removes most of the agonizing gamble that comes with deciding what trout might choose to eat on any given day and where. John Barr, who conjured up the solution from his tying bench in Boulder, Colorado, calls it the ‘Hopper-Copper-Dropper’, an alliterative way to describe a setup that is as risk-free as angling ever gets.

Barr didn’t invent the three-fly method. Anglers have been tossing–and tangling–multiple-fly rigs for years. But he has refined that approach into a system that has not only proven itself on Colorado’s hard-fished waters but around the United States.”

I’ve been pushing the envelope of what tenkara is capable of doing for quite a while, so I thought why not give the HCD a try?.  I’ve basically taken the “traditional” HCD used by western fly anglers, refined it for use with tenkara, and the results couldn’t have been better!  This isn’t an approach for ALL mountain water, but it is an approach for a LOT of mountain water, especially if your personal adventures take you to rivers like the Arkansas, my local “big” river.  

THE FLIES:

A classic (western) HCD setup includes a #10 BC Hopper strike indicator/top fly, a relatively heavy  #14 Copper John dropper, and a smaller midge emerger, caddis pupae, or baetis emerger bottom fly.  I started out with the pattern sizes that would be used with a typical 5 or 6 weight western fly rod, and found them to be too big.  So here’s one tip…go down one size on all three, if you can.  This will make the three-fly rig a little more wind resistant when casting or when it’s windy, and it’ll work with the more flexible tenkara rod (more on rods later).  Here are my favorite HCD-Floater combos for tenkara:

Hopper/Indicator Patterns:

#14 Baby Boy Hopper

#14 Moorish Hopper

#14 Hippie Stomper (red)

#16 Yeager’s Trude Neversink (peacock) (FAVORITE)

#14 Amy’s Ant (red)

#14 409 (red)

#16 Chubby Chernobyl (tan/tan)

Copper John/Mid-size Droppers:

#16 Copper John (red)

#16 Rubber Legs Copper John (FAVORITE)

#16 Poxyback PMD

#16 October Caddis Larva

#16 Psycho Prince (purple)

#16 Montana Prince

#18 Two Bit Hooker

Bottom/Smallest Dropper:

#18 Gunkel’s Shot Glass Emerger (FAVORITE)

#18 RS2

#18 CDC Pheasant Tail

#18 Gold Ice

#18 Jujubaetis

#18 Jujubee Midges

A #10 BC Hopper.  A classic top fly for HCD with a western fly rod,
 but a bit too big for a tenkara rod.

#14 Hipper Stomper (red)

#14 Amy's Ant (red)

#16 Chubby Chernobyl

Classic #16 "coppers" for HCD-Floater
on a tenkara rod.

#14 Moorish Hopper

HCD-Floater "droppers", all #18

THE LINE/TIPPET:

The HCD-Floater method works best with a floating line, and RIGS FLY SHOP MAKES THE BEST ONE OUT THERE!  Yeah, I’ve got it, I work for RIGS, but they don’t pay me to push lines.  The RIGS lines speak for themselves, and we sell a ton of them, and for good reason.  I’ve taken the RIGS floating lines from the San Miguel, Big Cimarron, and Gunnison all the way home to the Arkansas.  They just flat out work for the HCD-Floater system (among others).  Here’s why.  First, these are (in the tenkara world) big, brawny rivers.  Most native flows are around 400 CFS in the shoulder seasons, and the water is often 75 feet across.  The wind almost always blows, especially in east-west running canyons like the Colorado and the Arkansas.  You need a line that’s functional in the wind, floats so you can drift that big, floaty hopper drag-free, and one that can effectively cast a relatively heavy three-fly rig.  The line material on the RIGS lines makes all of that possible, with a buoyant, comparatively heavy line.  The addition of a tippet ring makes threading tippet and changing out tippet material infinitely easier.  As a guide who threads a tippet ring hundreds of times each season, I find that a selling point.  As a middle-aged man who wears bifocals constantly, I find that a selling point!  The addition of a large connection loop and an in-line high-vis strike indicator make this a highly functional line for non-traditional tenkara.

With the largest usable tippet for tenkara set at 5X, that’s where I start from the tippet ring on the line down to the top fly.  I use mono for this section of tippet.  I use flouro tippet material from the top fly down to the first dropper, staying at 5X.  The section from the first dropper down to the second gets 6X fluoro.  Going with fluoro on the bottom two sections of tippet keeps visibility down in the water, and fluoro is both denser and stiffer, which helps turn the cast over better than with mono.  I will typically run around 5 feet of tippet from the line down to the top hopper/indicator fly.  The droppers are each run about 16” below the preceding fly.  So, from tippet ring to bottom fly, this setup is just shy of 8 feet in length.  Add a 12-15’ floating line into the equation, and you have 20-23 feet of line from rod tip to bottom fly.  That’s a lot for a tenkara rod to handle, and you really need the right rod to make this work best.  Rods are next.

THE ROD:

The rivers are usually “big” on the tenkara scale, the canyons are usually windy, and the HCD and floating line are comparatively heavy.  You don’t want to take a 5:5 level line tenkara rod on a trip like this.  What you DO want to take is a rod that flexes toward the tip (a stiff 6:4 or a 7:3) and is at least twelve (360cm) feet long.  Rods that have performed well for me fishing a HCD on a floating line are the venerable Amago by Tenkara USA, the beautiful Nissin Zerosum 400 7:3, and my current favorite, the now-discontinued (but still available, if you look hard) Daiwa LT39SF.  I much prefer the lighter weight, better balance, and casting performance of the Daiwa, although my Amago sure did catch a lot of browns on the Arkansas.  In a pinch, the Iwana by Tenkara USA would do, and if you have the Daiwa LT36SF it would do even better.  Both rods are a little short at twelve feet and 390 centimeters respectively, but they’ll work.  I think you get the idea…a 12-foot-plus, tip-flex rod.

You’ll need a rod like this because of the weight of the line and flies, and the ever-present wind.  A mid-flex rod simply can’t keep up with either very well.  A third factor that a tip-flex rod will handle better is current.  Bigger water means heavier flows, and turning a 16” brown trout in 450 cfs water takes a robust rod.

Casting an HCD-Floater rig requires a slower cast, a little more pause at the end of the backcast, and a bit of a push going forward to deliver it to the water.  It’s not complicated, but it’ll take a few casts to get in the groove.  Once you get in that groove, it’s pretty easy to nail the same seam, the middle of the same big pocket, or the mid-current glass that you’re aiming for.

Well, there you have it, non-traditional tenkara at its best.  Some may even say that it’s not really tenkara.  Matters not to me.  What I do know is that I’m using a tenkara rod, and it’s a whole lot of fun!  So, if you want to experience the possibilities of non-traditional tenkara, or love fishing the HCD with a western fly rod and want to try it with a fixed-line rod, give it a try!  

  

Catching Up!

I’m finally home from a long, busy summer in Ridgway, Colorado, where I work full-time as a professional tenkara guide and fly shop bum at RIGS Fly Shop and Guide Service.  There really wasn’t much time for anything else, with days off few and far between.  I’ll guess that RIGS does two-thirds of their business between June and August, so drinking from the fire hydrant is the norm.  I was fortunate to be surrounded by fellow guides and shop folks who take hard work to a new level.  We have a solid team at RIGS, led by co-owners Tim and Heather Patterson.  The two of them set a high standard for hard work, flexibility, and perseverance during a busy, stressful time of year.  I couldn’t ask for a better place to work!

Closing down the fly shop on my last day behind the counter in mid-August.

The busiest place in Ridgeway, Colorado!

In all, I guided 25 trips, and spent the rest of the summer working in the fly shop or shuttling whitewater raft trips.  Combined with the two tenkara weekend clinics I put on each year, that puts my guiding up above 30 days per year.  Not too shabby, if you ask me!

Happy clients, happy guide!  

Most of my guided tenkara trips take place in the Cimarron Range, which is a northern extension of the San Juans.  Ridges, spires, turrets, and hoodoos form a line, running north from Uncompahgre Peak all the way to Cerro Summit.  This is stunning country!  The drive from Ridgway over Owl Creek Pass is arguably one of the most scenic anywhere in Colorado.  We’re permitted in the Uncompahgre Wilderness, so my trips can be done from the extreme southern headwaters of the three forks of the Cimarron River all the way up to the northern boundary of the Uncompahgre National Forest, just below Big Cimarron Campground.  At the fly shop we call this entire area “The Cimarrons”, and it provides a vast, diverse region that’s absolutely perfect for tenkara.  Each drainage above Silver Jack Reservoir holds its own special qualities, and is unique.  Each one of them requires different strategies and techniques, ranging from the wide-open lower end of East Fork, to the brushy and intimate pools and pockets of West Fork, and the twists and turns of Middle Fork.  One of my favorite places to guide in late summer is the Cimarron River tailwater below Silver Jack Reservoir.  It’s technically a tailwater, but it looks much more like a freestone.

The Cimarron River above Silver Jack Reservoir. (Photo courtesy of Stephen and Melissa Alcorn)

Once or twice a summer, if the water is lower and clear, I guide on the San Miguel River between Telluride and Norwood.  This summer “The Miguel”, as we call it, turned out to be very fishable, and my clients caught some really nice rainbows.  There are few things more fun than drifting a #14 Crystal Stimulator or Puterbaugh Caddis on the far edge and having a nice sixteen-inch rainbow crush your fly and take you for a ride.  A fish like that on a tenkara rod is simply amazing!

The San Miguel River below Telluride.

In all, it was a great summer season!  It’s always fun to head 200 miles southwest to Ridgway, and it’s equally good to return home to my family each August.  To my clients this summer…THANK YOU!  I had some amazing days standing beside you in wild water.  I hope you learned a thing or two.  One of the most rewarding things about guiding is spending quality time with such interesting people.  To do so in such magnificent country makes it all that much better!   

My last two clients of the season, Tim and Mona.  We had a stellar day fishing the Cimarron River backcountry!

Why I Kill Trout

A while back I posted an article on my blog entitled “Cañones de Invierno”, which was a trip report from the cañones this past December.  In that article, I talked about catching, killing, and eating brown and rainbow trout.  I posted photographs of trout sizzling in a pan on top of a wood stove, and of those browns and rainbows grilling on top of some scraps of iron on a pile of glowing coals in an open fire.  While reading Facebook posts today, I found one where my partner on that December cañon trip, Eric Lynn, explained when and why he and I kill trout in the backcountry.  Eric, thank you for your explanation!  I’d like to expound upon what you wrote.

Eric Lynn with a brace of brown trout, ready for the pan.

I kill trout and eat them.  However, there are self-imposed limits to this, and more often than not, I strictly adhere to a catch-and-release ethic.  When, where, and why I kill trout is dependent on a number of factors.  I have chosen to live a disciplined life on many levels, and my tenkara is no different.

First, I never keep fish unless I’m backpacking, period.  I’m not quite sure why it bothers me to do otherwise, but there’s something about backpacking, spending one or more nights out in the boonies, and celebrating the fact that I’m totally self-sufficient, that makes catching and eating a trout or two acceptable.  Much of my wilderness backpacking is done to reconnect with my paleolithic roots, and I devote a lot of time practicing bushcraft, hunting, and fishing to hone those ancient skills so important to keeping myself safe and well-fed off the land.

Freshly caught trout and miso soup, cooking over hot coals in the backcountry.

Fellow backcountry hunter, and renowned hunting ethicist, David Petersen, wrote that fly fishing (which tenkara IS, in case you wondered) is little more than “hydraulic hunting”, a point of view shared with sporting writer, Steven Bodio, who Petersen quoted in his seminal book, Heartsblood.  In that book, Bodio talks about “the occasional killing and eating of trout as a means of reminding ourselves of the ancient visceral connection between human and fish, predator and prey…” 

This connection with ancient food procurement, buried deep in my genome, is important to me.  It’s why I hunt elk, mule deer, pronghorn antelope, dusky grouse, snowshoe hares, Merriam’s turkeys, and cottontails.  It’s also why I hunt and fish in the some of the most strenuous ways possible, backpacking and burro-packing deep into Colorado wilderness, far from any bail-out my pickup could provide.  It’s a hard life at twelve-thousand feet.

Brook trout, pine squirrel, rice, and tea.  Living off the land!

Second, the fish I kill and eat the most are brook trout, with exceptions in canyons where there are so many brown trout it could make your head spin.  The brook trout in Colorado’s streams need to be killed and eaten.  The fact that there are hundreds of miles of brook trout streams in Colorado, all filled with 7-9” fish, make it a literal buffet for the backcountry angler, since Colorado Parks and Wildlife offers liberal daily limits on squaretails.  Non-native brookies can put the hammer on native greenback cutthroats and, as nature writer Ted Williams has said (quoted by Petersen in Heartsblood) regarding the problem with brook trout in Rocky Mountain National Park, “Biologists there are trying to eliminate non–native brook trout to aid the comeback of threatened native greenback cutthroats.  Releasing a fish that needs to be removed from the ecosystem is worse than Zorba the Greek’s unpardonable sin of not going to a woman’s bed when called…”

A nice 12" rainbow from a tiny creek.  This one lived to swim another day.

Third, size matters.  I simply won’t kill a trophy trout, and “trophy” is subjective.  In the brook trout streams I frequent, a “trophy” fish is anything over nine inches.  The lower elevation semi-desert canyons I call home hold some amazingly big brown trout, and any fish there over a foot long lives to swim another day.  I’d rather chew cold elk jerky for supper than grill a ten-inch brook trout.  The big ones stay.

This one stayed in the canyon, as most of them do.

So, there you go.  That’s my take on “catch and munch” versus “catch and release”.  It’s a moving target, but it always boils down to letting the trout call the shots, and staying true to your ethics.  If those trout happen to be nine inch brookies, build a small fire, get out your grill or pan, and live off the land!

Trip Report: Cañones de Invierno (December 22-23, 2014)

O, wind,

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

                                                        __ Percy Bysshe Shelley

                                                           (“Prometheus Unbound")

I could tell you that winter becomes a time when I slow down a bit, spend long hours at my tying bench, and contemplate the next summer guiding season.  I could tell you that, but I won’t, mostly because I would be lying to you.  My tenkara has kept a busy pace going into winter and shows no signs of doing anything different!

Winter tenkara in the canyons is all about finding trout in the pools and big pockets where they're holed up until spring.

Since I last posted in Tenkara Tracks (I don’t post nearly as often as I’d like to), I’ve been busy!

In mid-December I gave my frequent backpacking companion, hunting partner, and surrogate younger brother, Eric Lynn, a call and threw out the idea of poking up into one of my canyons (or, more precisely, cañones) for a multi-day backpacking/tenkara trip, weather permitting.  It doesn’t take much arm twisting for Eric to jump on ideas like that with full force, and this was no exception.

Best friends in the wilderness.  Eric Lynn and I in the canyons.

Well, the weather permitted it, and on December 22^nd we stepped off into a winding crack in the mountains, punching through thin ice on the edges of the creek as we made our way upstream.  It was a balmy 45 degrees.  There was no snow at all in the canyon, and we enjoyed lots of open water.  On the way to our camp, five miles distant, we encountered 24 bighorn sheep on the wall across the canyon, and about half of them were rams.  We saw one very nice ¾ curl ram that was frequently coughing…not a good sign for bighorn sheep, given their propensity for respiratory disease.  Eric and I both said a silent prayer for that fine ram, and wished him healing.

Making my way upstream, passing by a newly-created beaver dam, frozen over.

Watching a band of bighorn sheep on the canyon wall. 

We chose a campsite that Patrick Smith and I had used many times in the past.  Once we started nailing down camp, I discovered that I had left all of my tent pegs back at home.  While I carved fourteen pegs out of seasoned juniper, Eric took care of the rest of the chores.  This is a perfect example of the usefulnessof a good tomahawk, and I always carry one in my pack.  The wind blew in snow flurries and graupel throughout the afternoon and into the evening, but that didn’t keep us from fishing and bringing two rainbows and two browns back to camp for supper.  The trout in this canyon this late in the year will only fall to a Killer Bug, placed right in front of them.  They will not move much at all to take a fly.  Takes are so very soft and slow, and we frequently could not tell we had a take until a lift of the rod told the whole story.  Mist blue, oyster, nymph…the color of the Killer Bugs didn’t seem to matter nearly as much as the placement and presentation.  Accuracy was key.

Replacing forgotten aluminum tent pegs with sturdy, field-expedient ones crafted from juniper.

A nice 12" rainbow, caught on a mist blue #14 Killer Bug.

This is why we come!

Grilling trout over an open fire, using some pieces of old barrel hoops we found at a homestead ruin.

Our secret weapon…the famous Killer Bug!

That night we warmed ourselves beside our ultralight takedown Kifaru wood stove, cooking up a special meal that included dehydrated chunks of backstrap from the cow elk I had killed a month prior, paired with our four trout.  Good living!

A backcountry palace for two…my Kifaru Sawtooth.

Breaking in Eric's new fish pan with our supper.  

The next morning we listened to the ice cracking and popping as the sun warmed the canyon.  The rushing water and cracking ice…sounds you can only hear in a canyon like this in the winter.  There will be no one else here, and there will be no tracks on the trail, other than those of the bighorns, mule deer, and an occasional coyote.  This canyon is a winter home for Eric and I, and it was good to visit it this late in the year.

Eric negotiating the crux move, heading back downstream along the canyon wall.