It's big-and-little dry fly time

It's not every day that a fly shop owner has a client take him on a guided float trip.

My friend John was in the front seat of the boat, I was in the rear. John and I first met at the Portland Expo Sportsman's Show where I was doing seminars and demonstrations. We hit it off and over the years he fished out of my shop regularly, bringing groups of friends with him. He was the gracious host to our dinners after fishing or after show hours in Portland.

I wasn't too surprised when he invited me to join him when his regular companion couldn't make it.

It was this time of year - salmonflies were waning off but still conspicuously present; you'd see a few of the big bugs here and there throughout the course of the day. You'd see enough fish take them to keep you interested.

You'd also see a few of the smaller, pale morning dun mayflies - a smattering, but not enough to call a hatch.

Our guide, James, made the right call for the day. He set John up with a sparsely tied salmonfly dry, one that made a dent in the surface film close to that of the natural, and just enough elk wing silhouette above to mimic the natural. The fish, it seemed, had seen enough gaudy overdressed patterns for the season.

John is an excellent caster and angler. James had him head-hunt the shaded seams and soft water where the bigger fish could seek refuge and grab an easy meal. John scored, but the fishing was tough.

Meanwhile, I was fiddling around in the back of the boat. I was with a good friend, enjoying the day, and didn't feel compelled to catch fish. I tried one fly, and then another - a luxury that float fishing doesn't often permit. You strap on what's most likely to work and go with it. The rapid-fire pace of float fishing - one cast per lie on the way by - doesn't allow for much experimentation. You miss a lot of chances if your fly isn't on the water.

I was looking around, taking in the mountain peaks silhouetted against the sky, the trees along the river and the bird life, and occasionally tightening my focus on the rises that occasionally broke the surface.

All of those aren't salmonfly rises, I thought. Some are softer, not splashy, almost unnoticeable. I tied a short piece of 5X tippet off the bend of my salmonfly pattern, making a double wrap around the hook. Adding the second turn to an improved clinch knot adds to its strength, and it can be pushed up under the tail of the fly. Even a slender piece of 5X can act as a hook-guard when a standard clinch knot slides down the bend of the hook.

I tied a #14 pale morning dun parachute about two feet behind the salmonfly. The soft rings that spread from a dimple in the surface gave me my first target. I got lucky, didn't overstrike, and connected with a 19" rainbow. For the next couple of hours James had John do the same, and his catch rate jumped up - one fish on the small trailer fly for every two takes on the salmonfly.

There are disadvantages to the double-dry system. First, you have to be sure of your casting or you'll spend more time untangling than fishing. Keep your casts well within your comfortable range - don't force it.

Second, make the leader sizes fit the job at hand. We were fishing fresh 8' 3X tapered leaders for the #4 and #6 salmonflies, and 5X for the #14 and #16 PMD's. The second fly wants to be on two feet max, 18 inches minimum, tippet length. Shorter than that and they'll pull each other off drift and they'll tend to land closer than when they first hit the water anyway.

You give up some accuracy, and you get shorter drifts. Your pickup and re-cast have to be delicate and sure. When the fish show a decided preference for one fly, re-rig with a long-enough tippet to do business with that fly.

When I'm fishing around downed wood, I might start with an attractor pattern or parachute that is easy to see, and tying on a near-invisible ant or beetle pattern behind it is almost automatic. I'm almost certain that I'll take fish on the second fly.