Good Things Are Yet to Come

We spent this past weekend on the North Ram – the fishing was steady, pleasant, and what I would call no frills. With multiple mayfly hatches going on at the same time (mostly PMD’s, Rhithrogena, and Epeorus), the fish were decidedly non-selective. We did well with a few general dry fly patterns (mainly Parachute Adams #14, and Harrop style PMD’s #16 & #18). I did work a Drunella (Green Drake) nymph with good success here and there, but with the fish more than cooperative on top, why bother going deep.

What struck me the most however was the number of Glossosoma caddisfly larvae inhabiting the river this year. I have seen previous years where Brachycentrus caddisflies were way more prolific than usual (often after a few consecutive years of stable flows and mild runoff), and fishing larval patterns was pure dynamite. But this is the first year I have seen an “outbreak” of Glossosoma. Just about every rock had a few larval cases attached, and some rockes were virtually covered in them. They were everwhere.

We often think of aquatic insect populations as being relatively stable on any given stream – with perhaps some variation in the timing of the hatch. But in reality, population levels can vary substantially from one year to the next as overall stream conditions change (e.g. average and peak temperatures, average and peak flows, predation, parasites, etc.). This leads to years where the population of a particular species is low, and years where the population is high (think about how mosquito populations can vary depending on local conditions).  Of course when a prey source is abundant, the predators (i.e. trout) take notice.

Several dozen Glossosoma sp. larva attached to a submerged rock

Caddisflies in the genus Glossosoma are known as turtle case makers. Rather than constructing a tube like case that they can add to as they grow, Glossosoma builds a simple dome like structure out of small pebbles. They spend much of their time safely huddled under their unassuming mound of pebbles slowly grazing on the thin layer of algae that covers the rocks. As they outgrow their lair, they must abandon their old case and build a larger one. This is most often done under the cover of darkness but the process often commences just as dusk takes hold. With the added activity of thousands of larvae moving down off their grazing rocks to find suitable construction materials, many larvae find their way into the drift, and the waiting maws of hungry trout.

Close-up of Glossosoma sp. larval case attached to rock

There are four species of Glossosoma in Alberta which can emerge anywhere from June to late September. Most of the Glossosoma that I saw on the North Ram were in the later stages of larval development indicating that they will begin pupating soon, and will likely emerge some time in mid to late September (note that adults are needed to pin down the exact species).

Glossosoma sp. larva in case viewed from the bottom
(ventral) side - note the opening at either end

Glossosoma sp. larva "naked" (i.e. without its case)

If happen to find yourself on the North Ram late into the evening over the next week or so, and the mayflies have shut down due to cool evening temperatures, try drifting a simple “naked” caddis larva pattern along the bottom. Tan, cream and pale green would be the colors of choice in size #18 or #20. Later in September as the hatch gets rolling a soft hackle or sparkle emerger pattern should do the trick.

I plan to return to the North Ram in mid-September to see if the hatch materializes as I have anticipated; and perhaps collect and identify some of the adults.

Gettin' Skunked (The Hard Way)

Over the years I have embarked on many questionable fishing trips; trips where information about the final destination is sketchy at best. These trips are often motivated by my desire to explore new territory and experience a little adventure – the need to go where few, if any, have gone before. Common elements of these excursions often include not knowing exactly how the fishing is (or even if there are any fish there at all), and difficult access (this usually means no trails, or at the very least a near impossible hike).  Despite the uncertainty, and varied outcomes, these forays into the wilderness are among my most memorable and satisfying experiences – even if I do sometimes come out fishless.

The August long weekend found me on such an excursion; into a lake that is known to contain fish but one that few have traveled to. It all started with me pouring over topo maps and making a few discrete inquiries. The many questionable looks I got told me that I was on the right track with this one – it was definitely a lake worth checking out. There were three possible approaches to the lake. The shortest one was out due to high water, the second one had limited trail information (as in not sure if there really was a trail), and the third (and longest) one involved a 22 km hike with a significant amount of bushwhacking. Naturally I chose the third approach.

The hike in went as expected and by dinner time I found myself (a little blistered and battered) on the shores of a remote mountain lake with almost no sign of anyone having ever been there – no garbage, no beer cans, no old fire pits...nothing. It was so quiet and still, save for the sounds of wind, birds and bugs. And the scenery was nothing short of amazing. This was paradise.

My first view of the lake

The morning view from camp - looking west

Come evening I did see the odd fish rise but the terrain surrounding the lake was quite rugged in places and steep slopes right down to the shoreline impeded access and/or casting. Waders would have helped here but I opted not to bring any in favor of a lighter pack. I did manage to get some short casts off in a few locations around the lake but the few small risers always seemed to be just out of reach.

Low impact camping - no tent and no fire

In the end I left the lake just as I found it - all fish unmolested, and no fire scar. I have to admit that the long hike out in the blazing sun all but did me in, but never before has getting skunked been so satisfying.