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Posts from the ‘Fish’ Category

Not Skunked


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DC57 copy

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Throwing Line



Last of the ambience.

365 Days of Flash Photography, With Day Number Nine. Mint Conditions.

Here is Day Number Nine…

Mint Conditions. 

Adjusted9Cool cutthroat on a lazy stretch.


Throwing Adams

They were all of insignificant size, but it didn’t really matter. Nothing more than a few hours of bliss, reeling in acrobatic cutthroat trout, enjoying those peculiar sounds where riffles and current combed over shallow uneven cobblestone beds. Choice of fly was none other than that of an Adams. Pure surface action, with every ounce of me engaged. Irritations melted away, drifted away, like those white pudgy columns patrolling the skies overhead. TA2Each throw of line put the Adams on a different voyage, riding high on surface while moving shadows beneath kept a curious eye. Everything in their world, passing morsel or otherwise seemed always under strict surveillance. And then there was the familiar break, where surface split, and the Adams going bye-bye.TA1


Going Soft

It’s depressing, hearing that Beau’s been lacking the ability for even the simplest of rise from trout in the Salem Ditch. It’s like he’s going soft, showing his son that it’s okay, totally acceptable to allow some hungry cutthroat trout not even five feet in front of him to get the very best of him. Way to roll, man. Do you need some soft hackles? Perhaps red tags? Maybe run home and let the cat out?

Why the long face?

Those are just my observations. GS1



Amanda and I had no problem on the Ditch. Sure, we dodged a few overbearing patches of gray, but we never had an issue with overbearing cutthroat or lingering rainbows. 




Elk hair caddis and red tags won the evening over, perfect combos when paired with two and three weight rods. The right tools for playful streams.GS7



365 Days Of Great Pics Photography, #325

Here is number 325… 

Fairytale Pool. I watched a fairy dance across the broken branch, then it pranced along the banks, heading upstream. 

I have a question… Is the tooth fairy male or female?


Skippers do skim, and trout still swim. 

Remains of a King

I’m in the process of creating a Facebook fan page. I’m taking a break from that to upload a few photos from Saturday. Dad and I were looking for salmon and steelhead up and throughout the canyon, where November skies brushed the foothills with a white powder. We never found any steelhead, but we did find chinook, just not in the form we had visioned.

November rain filling empty stream chutes and beds. 

No salmon here.

We live in a mossy state.

I felt like reaching under that rock, but thought better of it.

Proper way to tow your camera and additional lens. Great on the neck.

First dusting.

It kept getting stuck.

Salmon territory.

Leftovers from a spawned out celebrity of the northwest. Favorite photo of the day.

Everywhere, dead salmon wrapped and snagged on rocks and other obstructions.

Jaws. Remains of a king. Just not in the form we were looking for.

Cravers And Misbehavers

I’m always craving streams. It doesn’t matter if I’ve got a fly rod in hand, or my camera, or a coffee, I’m always craving for more. It’s an indulgence that never ceases, especially living here in Oregon. I don’t think these cravings, as simple and yet complex as they may be, will ever go away. So, once again, you’re left with some stream photos and a few other aquatic pictures.

I’m also working on categories, I’ll have them up soon! Promise! Check out my dads photos from earlier by clicking here. Or go to his Home Page.

And the misbehavers? You’ll see further down…

A whole lot of color going on.

Coyotes viewpoint.

Great pool. Right below this gigantic rock was where I slipped and fell, slamming my camera into a rock. Surprisingly nothing happened, and I was surprisingly surprised.

Big leaves are big right now, lining banks and pool beds.

Mallards viewpoint.

Dude, those rocks were something slick and awful. On the other hand, they were insanely beautiful, with hues of orange matter saturating every crevice…thus making them even slicker.

Caddis larva are going to dig all the fresh fallen leaves. Feeding frenzy. 

I dropped my 200mm in between those rocks, watching it slide and bang against other rocks and current, disappearing somewhere far beneath the surface. It was time for it to go. Not really. Never really. Not cool.

Working upstream. Kokanee.

Thick fish, good size. Probably another few weeks of life left.

 They’re not making it up this. Sockeye: Yes. Kokanee: No.

Love the colors.

Beauty along the upper sections of K. Creek.

Misbehaving. Territorial pangs.

“Break it up you two!” Okay, this guy is trying to break up the fight between these two. Total misbehavers.


Dad and I were up on Link Creek. Now, at first glance you  had these massive schools of undersized, and I’m talking completely unprivileged kokanee, ranging anywhere from six inches to about a foot in length, and they were spawning. Six inches! What a waste of a life. But then the hatchery gene doesn’t travel far, thus the progression of barely legal brain dead fish, spawning and passing on the weakening link.

A pair of brown trout. Fall foliage providing minimal privacy.

 Then you had the browns. Big browns. Suttle Lake browns. Brown trout feeding on the spawning kokanee, which collected in massive schools along the banks where soft shallow current granted rest, revealing their eel like presence, waving like a thousand ribbons in unison.

But the browns weren’t only foraging on the small fragile kokanee, they were also making babies of their own. I hope they forgive me for sneaking in a few photos. I promise they’re not R-rated.

In the process.

Their brilliant colors really broke through, even in the shade, where a lot of sex was in the works.

They pair up and spawn. The promise for a future generation.

Believe it or not, these were the hardest photos to get. Fertilization in the works.