![]() This section of river is the quintessential mountain stream. It begins it’s journey from the spring fed waters of Little Lava Lake and flows South to Crane Prairie Reservoir. The Upper Deschutes originates West of Bend in the Cascade Mountains. The Deschutes River can be broken in to three sections: The Upper, Middle and Lower Deschutes, each with unique characteristics, seasons, geology and fish. Where else is a blue ribbon, native-fish-only trout stream and a strong summer steelhead run found in the same place? Adams, that's the least we can do.The Deschutes River is one of the premier fly fishing rivers in the Pacific Northwest. Let’s just call it the Halladay from here on out, if for no other reason than to mourn the passing of the season where the Adams - er, Halladay - is most prominently fished.Īfter all the fish the fly has managed to catch for us over the years, much like it did for Mr. What’s better? The Circus Peanut or the Jones streamer? So let’s do a solid to old Leonard, and maybe make a notable change in how we reference this storied fly. ![]() That would be like Kelly Galloup naming the Circus Peanut after the first dope who dredged one through the Madison below Quake Lake. Not only am I needlessly bitter about the change of seasons and the passing of the “Adams Summer” in favor of the unsettled weather that’s finally taken over after a brilliant Indian summer, but I’m more inclined to wonder openly about the little things, like, “Why the hell did Halladay name the fly after Charles Adams?” I’m guessing, too, that I’d catch plenty of fish, because in the creeks and streams where I spend the bulk of my time, the Adams seems to work, regardless of what’s hatching and what flavor of trout is swimming in the water at my feet.Ĭlearly with age comes a measure of stubbornness, and I’m channeling more of that trait these days. Honestly, it could be done, and I bet the trout of the Rockies would be just as happy if I elected to solely fish one pattern over the course of a season. Like the old man who is constantly yelling at the neighborhood kids to “get the hell off my lawn!” That’s when my thinking gets more and more rigid - and why wouldn’t I, under that strident mindset, spend more time thinking about fishing nothing but an Adams over the course of summer?Īnd then I’ll sit down at the vise and tie up a dozen flies to satiate the “Dark Passenger” that just wants to fish one fly, dry and upstream, all the damn time. #March brown hidden water travel fly rod freeFor that would mean the trees would be green, the skies would be blue and the water around my ankles would be flowing free and not locked in the wintry grip that I’ve come to despise so much as I grow older.Īnd, of course, as I get older, I get more … crotchety. Oh, to be fishing a big Adams, I think on days like that. But, I’ve come to realize, those are the books written for the writer, not necessarily for the reader.Īnd then the whimsy goes away, only to come back on melancholy winter days when bare tree branches are visible through the office window and the landscape is generally white. I even had a book idea on the topic - “Adams Summer,” I was going to call it. I might change flies - backcountry trout can turn even the sturdiest Adams in a fuzzy mess after a time - but, I tell myself, I’ll always just fish the Adams. I’ve often thought, in moments of whimsy that I think fly fishers are often prone to experiencing, that, on the arrival of the solstice, I’ll start a summer fishing the Adams, and, no matter what, I won’t change patterns until the season dies. It floats well and has a buggy look to it, both from above, and, presumably, below. It's easy for both angler and fish to see in varied light and fast water. ![]() On smaller water, where wild trout are more opportunistic than cautious, an oversized, bushy Adams - like a size 12 or even a size 10 - should be the first choice of any blue-lining angler. On Idaho’s South Fork of the Snake, tied in size 20, the Adams fools trout keyed in on Blue-winged Olives - but I hate fishing an Adams so small. To the fish, it’s likely the silhouette that matters, and I’ve used the Adams to reasonably imitate big Green Drakes on the Oldman River of Alberta and to ably match a March Brown hatch on Montana’s Rock Creek one spring as the rest of the dry-fly anglers that day eagerly awaited the seasonal arrival of the sqwala stonefly. ![]()
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