Bullying the Met (Metolius River Winter 2011-2012)

My first summer in Bend was a young fly fishers dream. Working at Orvis only spurred on the sickness. I compare it to a bunch of drunks hanging out at the bar every day and night…yet never getting a hangover. It was bliss. We went on many excursions on the Lower D, Metolius, Crooked, and Fall River. We caught a few fish, nothing too exciting. Unfortunately I only hooked one steelhead. Needless to say I needed another fix, and I was hoping the Metolius River could provide that.

The Metolius is located just outside of Sisters. Known for its gin clear water and picky trout, it’s is a tough place to catch fish. In fact, I describe it as the prettiest river to go get skunked at. Like I said it isn’t easy. Throughout the summer I went there and got skunked a few times. All right, many times. I landed a few trout and hooked some nicer ones. Not a great resume on the Met. While working in the shop though, I kept hearing about these Bull trout. Guys would come in talking about hooking up with five or six, the biggest being around 30 inches. Whaaaat? I had to get in on this.

One cold Central Oregon morning, the Orvis crew got together to try our luck on the Met in hopes for some Bull trout action. Tye, Jeeem (aka Jim), and myself set out with our 6 and 7-weight rods and some big ol’ flies. These flies we were using were small trout imitations. One of them known as the Dahli Lama is around 8 inches and has strips of bunny that has a tantalizing action to it in the water. One of the most productive ways to catch Bull trout is to throw these large streamers and swing it across the current and then strip in, in hopes of encouraging the Bull to strike. This tactic seems to work best because bullies are both territorial and aggressive fish, hence their name. Once you hook them all you have to do is hang on! Yeah, it’s that easy.

Before our trip, we had been talking to some other friends who had fished the Metolius for Bulls and they informed us of some good spots to try. Not your typical fisherman huh? Telling us where to fish and what not, well they are pretty good friends. At the end of the day, Tye would be very thankful for that. We headed for this one spot that sounded encouraging. It was a very cold morning. Snow was covering the ground, and it felt like we were in the wrong place at the wrong time to be fishing. However, the Metolius is characterized as a spring creek with consistent flows and water temperatures. These conditions allow it to be fishable year round.

All of us tried the first spot with no luck. In fact one of Tye’s Dahli Lama’s decided to befriend a large log in the middle of the river and didn’t want to leave it. Touching story. So we went downriver to another spot that looked promising. There was a strong current in the middle of the river and a long deep pool from it to the bank. An ideal place for these fish to be hanging out. And sure enough they were there. Tye hooked up with one first, and then the hook came out. Dang! Not ten minutes later I hooked one. I didn’t even know it was a fish at first. I thought I was stuck on a log. Then the “log” moved and it was fish on! The fish surfaced and I could tell it was a big one. Of course this fish wanted nothing to do with being caught. It shook its head twice and said, “No thanks.” Oh man that was frustrating. I looked upriver to Tye and said something my mother would have been disappointed with only to see Tye pointing in the direction of where I hooked the fish. Apparently just as I turned around to say something creative to Tye, the Bull jumped out of the water. Tye confirmed what I had thought; it was a very large Bull. Shucks.

Moving on, we went to a spot that would become famous. It was a good drift with a bend around a large log at the end of it. The water got deeper around the log as well. After a solid effort I was ready to try another spot. I had tried my luck so I went over to bs with Jeeem on the bank. All of sudden Tye started making funny noises. FISH on! Yeah it was a big one. Tye’s 6-weight was being put to the test. After admiring him struggling with his fish, he said he was going to need some help landing this thing. I was gung ho. I hopped into the river and made my way downstream towards Tye. Coming up to him I realized just how big this sucker was. It was a good 28-30 inch Bull. A trophy for sure. I ended up tailing the fish and took some pics that I still look at today in amazement. It was Tye’s first Bull trout. This was a celebratory occasion. Tye enjoys some of the finer things in life, and is a generous man as well, so we enjoyed a quality cigar on the bank re-living the epic catch of the day. Good times.

Needless to say, I did not land any Bulls on this trip. But, I was hooked and determined to before they migrated back out of the Met. I went back two more times after Tye had landed his trophy with nothing to show for it. The chase continued.

About a month and a half later, I was moving from Bend. An opportunity that I couldn’t pass up came about and so I only had a couple weeks left. I was determined on hooking and landing a Bull before I had to leave. So one Saturday my buddy Brad and I set out, again, to give it one last college try. It was freezing that morning. I had to chew the ice off of my snake guides in order to get line out a few times. Just a part of winter fishing. I hooked one small Bull in one spot above where Brad and I had fished previously, but no dice, it came off. Ugh.

Around noon though our other buddy Paul joined us with a barley pop in hand and his dog Sunny. We told him the usual stories of being in the right spots and making great casts and blah blah blah. He had an idea. Paul told us of a spot up river where the river narrowed into a deeper canyon, and where he had seen Bulls stack up before. This sounded promising so we headed out. This spot was off the road a ways and after muddying up the tires we were there. It was just as Paul described, and sure enough there was a large Bull in the middle of the canyon. What was so cool about this spot is that you had to sight fish. Paul and Brad were kind enough to let “the boy” go first, and I’m glad they did. In order to get to this fish I had to climb down the canyon and stand on a ledge about the size of a coffee table. Paul and Brad stayed up top and directed me towards the fish. The first cast went outside the big Bull. The next cast was a little better. As I remember, the conversation went as so, “Alright man good cast. Strip. Strip. Let it sit. Uh, uh you went past him. Strip. Wait. Whoa!” Then all of a sudden I felt a grab and I set the hook. Fish on! It wasn’t the large one that we were fishing to, but another one that was hiding under the bank. This one was determined to make my day. It came from about 15 feet at full speed and slammed my fly. My 7-weight spey handled the fish easily. Like I said it wasn’t a hog but I was stoked to have landed my first Bull. Finally!

 

That night ended with a few brewsers at 10 Barrel and what turned into my roast with the Orvis crew. It was my going away dinner. And it didn’t disappoint. I realized that fishing for me, is not just about fish. It’s about sharing experiences with people, and enjoying the outdoors that by God’s grace we are able to cherish. I don’t ever want to take that for granted.

Equipment

• 13' 7-weight Spey
• Skagit line with 10' section of T-14
• Maxima 20# leader and 15# tippet
• Large baitfish streamer

Ooo-la-lallie. (Late Spring 2011)

After a long and rainy winter/spring in Eugene, fishing season left me unsatisfied. The McKenzie was hit or miss, and I was ready to get into some fish. When my Uncle Mark called and said he wanted to take my cousin Mitch and I on a trip I asked where he was thinking. He mentioned the Lower D, which don’t get me wrong is one of my all time faves, but when he mentioned some random lake I had not heard of, ice-off, and hungry fish, I was convinced that was the ticket for my fix. Sorry D. Olallie Lake was the name, and we were in for a real treat.

Ollalie Lake is located just west of Mt. Jefferson, and it is one of the prettiest lakes I’ve had the privilege to fish. Getting there though, took some luck and help from my sleep deprived cousin. The beautiful drive up the picturesque Clackamas River and into Olallie Lake seemed to cause his eyelids to become heavy enough to stay shut through every curve and sudden “brake checks.” I was enjoying the scenery a little more than I should have which resulted in a sudden realization that I may not have a drift boat on its correct side through the curve if I didn’t slow down. The luck part came when I just so happened to see a barely visible and faded “O” on some pavement. That “O” stood for “Olallie Lake This Way”. Who’da thunk? As I mentioned earlier, I needed my cousin’s help. That came when I misunderstood which road to take to get to the lake. Oh that’s right, there were no signs, and multiple roads! No big deal. I got up one road that was too narrow to turn around in with the boat. So I woke up the sleep deprived teenager and told him we had to un-hook the boat and turn around. He was happy to help and we had a few laughs. I managed to guess the right road (after two or three forks I might add) and we arrived at the campground eager to get to the lake. After a recap of the trip up, a few more laughs, and some grub, we were set.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and the grandeur of Mt. Jefferson was incredible. My uncle was confident the fishing would be good; he was unaware just how good it would be. See, we just happened to get there after ice-off, and the campground had just opened. It was closed the week prior due to snow. My aunt Lisa dropped us off and said she would be back to pick us up in about an hour or so. We hopped in the drift boat and started trolling around. Each of us tied on some version of a woolly bugger and cast out with high hopes. Those hopes turned to doubt after about 30 minutes of a whole lot of nothing. But we kept rowing and finally reached the other end of the lake. That’s where the fun really began.

Mitch was the first one to hook a fish. It was about 9-10 inches. Nice fish. Then I hooked one. Similar size. Then Mitch hooked one. Then I hooked one. Then Mitch hooked another. Then I hooked another. Mark was laughing the entire time because we could not, NOT catch a fish! We ended up calling this stretch the gauntlet because every time Mark rowed through on the edge of this shelf, Mitch and I successfully hooked (there were plenty of missed hook sets which fueled Mark’s laughter) probably 3 or 4 fish each time we ran the gauntlet. Pretty soon we remembered that we had to go meet Lisa at the boat dock. Not ready to leave, we did. We met up with her and she asked how the fishing was. We said it was just ok. There were many people on the bank and we didn’t want to give up our spot or cause any mass exodus to where we had found what seemed to be every fish in the lake. We told Lisa, who is an avid fisherlady herself, to get in the boat. She wasn’t real eager. This was probably because we downplayed the fishing. She caught on though when we told here she HAD to get in the boat. We went right to the same spot. A few runs through the gauntlet, and quite a few more fish and we were all laughing just how good it was!

Mark was nice enough to row for us most of the time, but I told him I would row for a bit so he could join in on the fun. I didn’t know he would catch the biggest trout in the lake! Right after I had started rowing Mark hooked a HOG! It was awesome. The fish was a beautiful rainbow that was about 26 inches. I couldn’t help but give Mark a hard time and tell him I was happy to work on my trophy trout photography skills. Honestly though, I was glad to do it. After all that excitement we headed back and had a good ol’ fish fry for dinner.

The next day we hit the same side of the lake just off of a shelf. The fish didn’t miss a beat. We probably hooked about 50 fish apiece that weekend. Obviously we didn’t keep them all. Then I got to work on my trophy trout photography…again! Mitch hooked another impressive rainbow and ended the fishing trip on a high note.

Unfortunately I didn’t hook any trophies. However, the trip was a memorable one and I was happy to capture it. In fact, a couple pictures appeared in the Spring 2012 issue of Fly Fisher and Tyer Journal. So I got that going for me.