You should have been here last week

“You Should Have Been Here Last Week,” he said.

“That so?” I said looking out the window; snow flurries flecking gray skies outside. 

The guide at Steve Dally’s Ozark Fly Fisher in Cotter, Arkansas didn’t let my lack of enthusiasm curb his.

“Yep.  Eighty degrees and sunny last week.  Caddis coming off so thick you couldn’t breathe. Had two hundred fish days, all on dries, got tired of reeling ‘em in.”

“Nice,” I said, peering at the weather app on my phone.  34 degrees.  I shuffled to the fly bin, passing the elk hair caddis and found the micro flies.  It was going to be a midge afternoon.

 

Back up a week.  Spring break approaches.  Caddis reports on the White River sound promising.  The long-range weather forecast looks great: sunny, temps in the high 60’s, touching 70. Even the generation reports are predictable.  Minimum flows on the White River?  I must be dreaming…And I was.  Visions of drag-free drifts, big takes and big fish, the surface of the river littered with insects.  I consider myself mentally competent, but have to question my sanity sometimes. Only an insane man plans vacation time around bug behavior.

Rhycophila caddis adult

 

Caddis are insects.  They spend ninety percent of their lives underwater, metamorphosing into air-breathing, flying adults that resemble little hairy moths.  When temperatures warm and the spring sun begins to shine, hormones are triggered and the surface of the river explodes with emerging insects taking flight and trout smashing them before they can.

 

Good memories are the seed of all addictions.  First kiss, first car, first paycheck, first beer…first caddis hatch.  A beautiful April day at Cow Shoals on the Little Red River.  The Ryacophila came off all day.  My wife Laurie and I got into those fish and I recall losing count at 70 trout.  Drift an elk hair caddis across the water and wham!  They were smashing our dries like muskies on mouse patterns.

 

Addictions build on first-time euphoria and entice the addict to replicate whatever activity caused the addiction.  Endorphins of nirvana.  White River at Cotter Access, bugs so heavy they crawled under your clothes.  The hatch continued until well after dark.  I could not see my fly. I listened for the strike and set the hook.  Little Red River again at Pangburn. Reclusive browns came out of deep pools to eat these little green-bodied insects.  Signature fish of the day measured 20”. Another, at Ramsey in a big riffle, swarms of caddis coming off and fish going crazy.  Used to time the summer caddis hatches on the Firehole in Yellowstone NP when I was in graduate school at Montana State--a particular stretch where bugs are predictable as income tax day. 

Despite visions of caddis dancing in my head and not on the water.  I fished two days in the snow and managed to land a few.  All on midge patterns, of course.

 

 

Cutthroat!  A surprise visitor in my net...

 

You see, caddis and me go back a way.  They are my first and favorite hatch, so when I get the opportunity to fish while they are metamorphosing, I jump.  My record of accomplishment is not good.  You have to be at the right place at the right time, which involves being there.  Hope I make it just once this year…