Seven Savvy Small Stream Fishing Tips

October 2024

INTRODUCTION:

As my fishing friends and readers know, I am a small stream aficionado and devotee.  Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against big waters like the Arkansas River near my cabin outside Salida, Colorado, despite the float boat hatch in summers that is maddening for those of us who prefer to wade rather than row.   I just prefer the solitude and wild nature of the small streams I like to search out, not to mention eager fish.  Okay, Okay…being shallower and smaller, I must admit they are also easier for a shambling septuagenarian like me to navigate. 

But while small streams can be easier to navigate and their denizens usually cooperative, they come with their own special challenges—tight casting quarters, plentiful snags, and shallow and clear water with spooky fish just to mention a few.  Here are some tips that will help ensure successful outings and hopefully help build the constituencies to protect these often lesser known, but precious waters.

Tip #1:  Before plunging into the water, take time to check out the insect life in and around the stream.

Because of their diminutive size and often remote locations with challenging environments ranging from high elevations to deep canyons, small streams often have a more limited and specialized selection of the victuals trout prefer.  That’s why while walking to the creek a smart angler will keep an eye out for terrestrials like grasshoppers and ants.  In the summer hoppers are an especially delectable and popular treat, providing a good meal for the smaller fish usually found in small streams. 

Next, instead of casting immediately in that first pool, wade out downstream and check under rocks for aquatic bugs like caddis, mayfly, and stonefly larvae and nymphs.  Then choose the fly or flies that are reasonable facsimiles. 

A good example is a recent trip to upper Grape Creek near Westcliffe, Colorado. I usually use a green- colored caddis larva dropper on Grape Creek to match the abundant green caddis larva lurking in the stream bed. But in this new section I hadn’t fished before, I found cream-colored caddis larva in abundance, not green. I dug into my fly box and was lucky to find a couple of cream-colored beadhead flies that were reasonable facimiles. I tied one on , and on the very first cast it was gulped down by a nice brookie. More soon followed. Would a green-colored larva worked? Maybe, but a little investigation paid off.

Tip #2:  Stay out of the stream if possible—avoid those bad vibrations.

Unlike larger rivers where the angler must often plunge in and wade to reach the best pools/runs, in small streams the most inviting and productive water can often be reached with a short cast without getting your waders wet—a good strategy illustrated by a recent experience on tiny Archuleta Creek in southern Colorado.  I was hiking on a ridge above the stream, which has always been challenging but productive, planning to cut down to the water in a little gully ahead.  But another old guy had beaten me to the punch, so before pushing on downstream a good distance, I decided to take a break and watch him fish.  I was a bit surprised to see him wading in and up the creek, then saw his water buffalo wading technique was literally sending shock waves upstream into the bend pools he was targeting.  On a good stretch I had done well on in the past, in over 15 minutes he hooked just one fish.  His sloshing around had sent out bad vibrations.  It was a reminder to think Beach Boys—sending out good vibrations to the fish with succulent flies and minimum ripples, creating some excitation instead of miniature tidal waves.    After watching the show, I proceeded downstream for a quarter mile and started fishing back up.  Thirty minutes later I hit the stretch the other senior gent had plowed through and had a ball carefully fishing the water and catching a half dozen nice brownies, one scaling 14 inches.

A recent outing on a stream in the San Luis Valley loaded with Rio Grande Cutthroats teaches the same lesson. The water was clear and extremely low, but my fishing buddy Tom Palka managed to catch (and release) three beautiful cutties from a postage-stamp sized pool by creeping carefully to a hidden spot in the grass below the pool then executing backhand casts from a sitting position. If he had stood up instead, the trout would have likely fled to the next county!

Tip #3:  Stoop to conquer…

Avoiding bad vibrations is just one advantage of staying out of the water and being careful when casting from the shoreline.  The best holding lies in small creeks are often shallower than in big rivers, and if the water is clear and you are wading standing upright either on the shoreline or in the stream it’s guaranteed the fish have a good chance of seeing you moving or will spy your shadow.  What’s the remedy? KNEEL!!  Where the stream is especially small or water very clear consider kneeling on the shoreline or in the water before casting.  Keep in mind the famous line from the Oliver Goldsmith play from the late 1700s:  “She stoops to conquer,” meaning someone who accepts behavior being viewed as beneath one’s abilities or station in life but achieves some greater purpose as a result. 

If savvy septuagenarian anglers, creaky knees and all, have learned to kneel to conquer–so can you!

But you say, what of your aching knees on those sharp, hard streambed rocks?  I am sympathetic, and that’s why I buy Dry Plus waders at Cabela’s—one of few that comes with handy dandy knee pads built in as a standard feature.  Try them, you will see the advantages plus you won’t have to spend a wad of money for these durable and reasonably priced waders.

Tip #4: Use a shorter rod and shorter leaders/droppers, especially with creeks featuring heavy streamside vegetation or overhanding trees and bushes. 

Like most anglers, the standard rod I use in rivers is a light-to-medium weight 8.5-foot wand. I also opt for it on smaller waters like Saguache Creek that don’t have a lot of streamside vegetation.  But increasingly on small streams where I will be casting in close quarters with overhanding trees or tall shoreline brush and grass and other vegetation, my choice is a short 7.5-footer.  The shorter rod allows me to backcast with less chance of hangups and avoid the cloying branches and bushes the longer rod seems to enjoy. 

Tight Quarters Call For Shorter Rod

The same is true of leaders and dropper size.  In small streams with tight quarters, there is simply not much room to false cast or even just flip the fly out with a quick flick of the rod.  Similarly, long droppers that work on big water to get to bottom where the big fish are will elicit expletives on smaller streams as your fly alights perfectly in the target pool but the dropper ends up in tall bristly grass, rose bushes, etc., etc! 

But I would be disingenuous if I did mention the tenkara lesson I received from friend Tom Palka.  We were fishing a tiny backcountry creek that was barely three feet wide in many places and lined with grass and assorted snags three feet high.  I was having the devil of a time casting even with my smaller rod without hanging up in the streamside vegetation.  But with his 10-foot tenkara rod young Mr. Palka (only 50 or so years of age) could simple reach out over streamside grass and gently his parachute his fly easily into the best holes.  As he landed three fish to my every one, this cheeky youngster schooled me. 

Same story with leaders.  Long leaders and droppers that often work best on big rivers to reach big fish in deeper holes will often end up in streamside grass and handing from snags on smaller streams.  I find that 7.5-foot 5X or 6X leaders with shorter 18-inch dropper work fine.

Tip #5:  Learn the light-touch twister tug and snap roll cast to save your fly from snags

Before I learned a little trick from my fishing buddy, Bob Wayne, my normal response to getting my fly entangled in streamside branches or grass, in addition to uttering expletives, was to give my rod  a sharp upward jerk in hopes that it would rip the fly out of the grasp of the dastardly snag.  My success rate was about 20% at best. Then one day I watched Mr. Wayne rescue fly after fly deposited in streamside vegetation by errant casts.  Instead of yanking the rod straight up as seems natural, he would aim his rod directly at snag, tighten the line taught, and then twist his wrist as he gave it a gentle tug or two straight back.  Twist and tug! His success rate in saving his flies was an astounding 50%!  It was amazing how often the embedded, seemingly doomed fly came loose. 

Master Angler Robert Wayne, Esq., Gets Ready To Execute His Patented Twist And Tug Manuever To Extricate Yet Another Errant Cast

Now I don’t claim to be as accomplished as Bob in employing this technique but have saved many flies over the past few years thanks to him. 

But what if your fly is hung up on a rock or branch in the stream?  My solution is to execute a short roll cast towards the snag powered with a strong downward snap of the wrist. Often this technique will work because the rolling line will pull the stuck fly upstream away from the snag rather than digging it in further as is the case if you give the line a pull downstream.   Don’t be surprised if you save your fly with this simple maneuver without having to wade out to retrieve the fly and spoil the pool. 

Tip #6:  For the small stream hot spots, focus on twisting creek bends, undercut banks, and shallows depending on water temperature and sunlight.  Don’t forget your stream thermometer to help figure out where the fish will be.

Several years ago, I learned an important lesson about small stream fish and water temperature.  I was fishing a small remote stream in the upper reaches of the San Luis Valley in south central Colorado in August that had always treated me well.  The creek wove sinuously through a meadow with alluring clear water deep pools at every bend.  But in the first trio of pools I drew a goose egg despite my fly and dropper floating through perfectly.  Frustrated, I waded into the bend pool up to my waist to reconnoiter up close.  I didn’t see or spook a singled fish.  A little further upstream, I again struck out and waded in to see what was up.  Again, the pool seemed empty.

Then I hit a very shallow straighter stretch above a beaver pond, only a foot or so deep.  To my amazement, I could see three brook trout finning nonchalantly in the thin water.  I crept within casting distance and knelt carefully.  My Chubby Chernobyl dry alighted five feet in front of the trio, and one darted forward and gulped in the faux grasshopper like it was his first call for breakfast.  After landing the colorful brookie I continued upstream towards the next bend pool. 

But it too was barren.  However, in the rocky shallows next to the bend I pulled out another brawling brook trout.  What gives I thought? 

Then it dawned on me that after several days of unseasonably cold weather with temperatures plunging into the lower forties, the fish needed warmth.  While under normal conditions the deeper bend pool would provide warmth, after an extended cold spell it was less hospitable.  And now with the sun beating down, the shallows were warming up more quickly and drawing the fish like a magnet.

This was part of my education that fish in smaller streams are especially sensitive to air and water temperature because water is typically shallower than in big rivers, even the deeper bend pools.  It will usually cool off faster and warm up more quickly.  On a hot day small stream fish will retire sooner to deeper bend pools or undercut banks where the water is cooler.  By same token, if the water is very cold then don’t be surprised if bigger fish are out in open in shallower water early on a sunny day warming up.  The optimum feeding temperature range for most stream trout is from around 52-64 degrees.  When the air temperature gets near or below 40 degrees followed by a sunny day, the conditions are right for the fish to seek out sunny shallow stretches. 

The moral of the story:  To assess where the most likely hiding spots are on any given day, especially after a change in the weather and air temperature, don’t forget your stream thermometer and use it when getting started to improve your “luck.”

Stream Thermometer–Don’t Leave Home Without It!

Tip #7:  Fish those back eddies

These are probably the most overlooked honey holes on small streams.  A back eddy is a section of a creek where part of the current reverses direction and flows upstream.  Typically, an eddy forms when the main current is obstructed by a rock, tree, or bank and is pushed to one side and in the reverse direction of the main current.  Use video.  Usually, the water in a back eddy is quiet and brings food right to the smart fish waiting there, who will be facing downstream into the flow of the back eddy. 

Big Small Stream Trout Love Lounging In Back Eddies For Easy Meals

To fish a back eddy, I normally use a short cast towards the beginning of the reverse flow while high sticking my rod to keep most of the line from dragging in the main current.  I then let the fly float slowly upstream, often in a foam line. Usually only my leader will be on the water to avoid the fly from being dragged downstream by the main current.  I also don’t shy away from letting the fly float to the top of the back eddy which is often covered with a layer of foam.  It’s not unusual that the biggest fish in the back eddy will be lying patiently under the shadow of the foam, dining at his leisure. 

BONUS TIP: As a reward for the stalwarts who finished reading the entire article, here’s a bonus tip: Fish out your casts—more so than in big water, fish will often pursue a fly downstream on a small creek. Why?The current in most small creeks is not anywhere nearly as strong as in a big river like the Arkansas or Gunnison. This allows the hungry trout to leave his holding lie, give chase to the fleeing faux insect for some distance, have a quick meal, and easily and quickly swim back to safety. Give it a try and you will see.

Solving The Runoff Riddle: Off To See The Wizards Of Gnaws

Early June 2023

I am back in Colorado from Florida just in time for the annual spring runoff that blows out all my favorite rivers and creeks.  Saguache Creek in the San Luis Valley that fishes well at 40-50 cfs is a rambunctious 260 cfs.  And the Big Ark near Salida that I can just wade safely across at 400 cfs is rolling at 2200 cfs.  To complicate matters, most of my preferred high alpine lakes are still frozen or inaccessible because of deep snow drifts on the trails up.  So, what to do?  I could break out my float tube and drive over to Antero or Spinney Reservoirs in South Park near Fairplay and join the pontoon flotilla and motorboat brigade—and probably catch some giant trout.  But that’s not my scene.  For my money, a better option if you are seeking solitude and wild fish (and even some surprisingly big ones) is beaver ponds.  

Pursued by the Spanish and Pilgrims, then trapped to near extinction in the US in the mid-1800s, beavers have staged a remarkable recovery.  That history, from pre-colonial times to the present, is chronicled in an engrossing book entitled Eager Beavers Matter by Ben Goldfarb. 

Beavers are particularly important in the dry western US where they create wetlands, help conserve water, AND as an added bonus for anglers, fashion inviting habitat for trout–a true foundational species in many areas.  As Professor Tom Lovejoy, a former colleague of mine at the World Wildlife Fund, wrote in review, “Eager is the stunning story of beavers—so integral to early human landscapes of North America—and their function in support of people and later the American economy.  Literally nature’s “Corps of Engineers,” beavers today play vital roles in restoring watersheds, landscapes, and flood control throughout the continent.  To view them just as a cute animal with a flat tail is to trivialize the central player in both history and modern-day landscape ecology.”

Now admittedly, to catch trout in beaver ponds can be a real challenge, both physically and mentally, but offers great rewards. I have learned this through the school of hard knocks over the past five decades and have shared some tips and rules for fishing beaver ponds in earlier posts, such as always approaching a beaver pond from below the dam. (For more beaver pond fishing tips, see my earlier article from 2019: http://hooknfly.com/2019/07/06/beaver-pond-perspicacity-solving-the-puzzle/. I will have great days and some not so good, but isn’t that trout fishing in a nutshell? Fortunately, almost every region in Colorado has its share of productive beaver ponds. Around Salida in south central Colorado we are lucky to have a surfeit—Silver, Pass, Fooses, Greens, and Little Cochetopa Creeks to name just a few.

Now having spent several days unloading my SUV after from my annual migration from Florida, tidying up my cabin, and the bird feeders full, I figured have earned a day on the water. I do a little recon on a creek only a few miles from my house, and things look good. Through the thicket along a bumpy gravel road that parallels the creek, I catch glimpses of several beaver ponds that seem to be in good shape despite a lot of runoff and rain this spring. And because the mornings have been cold in the 40s, I won’t have to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.

After a leisurely breakfast, I arrive at the chosen location around 9:30 a.m., a turnout that is a short walk to an opening in the brush and trees that according to Google Maps will lead to the series of nice-looking beaver ponds that have been good to me in the past. 

Into The Wilds

I slip on my chest waders—beaver ponds can have deep and mucky holes and it’s much too cold for wet wading this time of year.  The water will register a chilly 42 degrees when I break out my thermometer later in the morning. 

As I head into the thicket, wild rose bushes grasp at my waders (Leave the expensive Simms ones at home!), and the sharp thorns of the currant bushes prick my arms.  I march on resolutely down the increasingly steep slope, my wading staff saving me from a couple of ignominious falls.   Soon I am smiling when I see water shimmering in a pond below.  But when I emerge from the tangle, my heart sinks.  The big dam has been blown out, draining the pond that now only has a few inches of water over what was a deep pool.

Sad remains of former hot spot pond

I mope about hoping to spot a fin, but nary a trout remains to be seen.  I shake my head.  The dam and pond have apparently been victims of a huge storm and flood that hit the area late last August that blew out culverts in the valley below.  I look upstream and see that all may not be lost.  As the little creek cascades from the narrows above, it swirls around a couple of rocks and creates some small pools that just may harbor a fish.  I’ll give it a try.

Trout Hideaway??

I’m using short 7.5 foot, 3-weight fly rod rigged with a #16 Crystal Royal Stimulator dry fly and a #16 red bead head San Juan Worm dropper.  The water is stained from the runoff, and I will try other droppers throughout the day—from tiny zebra midges to bushy olive wooly buggers, but the San Juan Worm will rule. 

The Dynamic Beaver Pond Duo

The first two casts the flies float down the middle of the foam line in the narrow creek.  But on the third I nudge the dry closer to the quiet postage-sized backwater behind one of the rocks and just out of the fast current.  WHOOSH!  A silvery fish rockets out of the water and smashes the Stimi.  Startled, I still manage to set the hook after a slight hesitation that I attribute to a slight case of rustiness due to six months away from a trout stream.  Obviously could have nothing to do with aging reflexes! The trout cavorts upstream to a little waterfall then reverses course and rushes back to his hideaway.  I slowly work him out from behind the rock and ease him into the net where he pushes 12-inches—a respectable start! 

Let The Fun Begin

I continue bushwacking upstream following the creek up the slope to another beaver dam that I can see through the tangle of brush and downed tree branches.  When I finally emerge, the warm glow from that first fish evaporates—damn, another blown out dam, wrecked just as thoroughly as the first although Google Maps depicts it as brim full!  Tip:  Google Maps satellite photos are notoriously out of date in remote areas like this.  Ground-truthing mandatory.

I resolutely press on and find the third pond also to be a mere shadow of its former self.  And to make matters worse, the thicket above this one appears impenetrable.  I’m going to have to detour up the slope on the opposite side of the dry pond where the vegetation appears to open up a bit.  After some grasping, grunting, and clawing up the hill, I manage to find a route upstream that appears less suicidal.  Along the way I take a short rest surrounded by a carpet of beautiful yellow wild sweet peas that are buzzing with bumble bees. 

Then I spot an odd brown spherical shape in the forest floor that turns out to be a giant puffball of the Sclerodermataceae family of fungi. 

Puff The Magic…

When I poke it, the puffball emits a cloud of brown spores that waft away in the gentle breeze. Like Clinton, I didn’t inhale.

I continue on and in a few minutes, I am looking down at a beautiful dam that actually has a pond with a decent amount of water behind it.  I gingerly zig-zag down the steep slope with the help of my trusty wading staff and emerge onto a muddy sandbar that I see some big elk have recently traversed to get themselves a drink of water from the pond. 

Elk Track

Then I see it—another big track in the mud.  I think first “bear” but then see it 4 toes instead of 5 and a big palm pad, which means mountain lion. 

Sign Of The Cat!

My skin starts to prickle as I survey the surrounding forest for the cat.  This county reportedly has more cougars than any in Colorado, but I have set to see one in the wild.  Not that I want to!  

When my nerves settle down, I inch up towards a foam line that spills into a deeper hole where I can’t see the bottom. 

On my second cast in the foam line, the dry is yanked under as something eats the San Juan Worm.  It’s a frisky little brown trout, but I figure something bigger has to be lurking around that dead tree stump jutting from the bottom. 

Tiny Tyke Falls For San Juan Worm

After releasing the little tyke I cast again into the foam line above the deep hole.  The dry drifts near the stump and suddenly it’s gone.  I set the hook and my rod bends double.  A big brown trout rolls on the surface and dives towards the snag.  I put the brakes on him and after a worthy battle, the brownie slides into the net, pushing 14-inches! 

Muscular Wild Brown Caps The Morning

He will be the biggest of the day.  Score another for the San Juan Worm. 

I make a dozen more casts in the pond, but come up empty, so start bushwhacking upstream again.  I soon am scrambling up on another beaver dam that has backed up a decent looking pond with a nice foam line coursing down its middle. 

Promising Pool

There are plenty of signs of beaver activity. 

Busy Beavers!

I fish the entire foam line thoroughly and am surprised not to spark any interest.  The water just doesn’t have enough depth as it did a year ago. My guess is the dam was blown out and then rebuilt by the indefatigable beavers, but the fish haven’t yet returned.  I’m about to continue upstream, but then spot what appears be a side channel on the other side of the pond and deftly wade across to discover a beautiful waterfall that I hope will be a stairway to angling heaven. 

Stairway To Angling Heaven??

The creek has split and cascades steeply downhill into a couple of captivating small ponds with all the makings of honey holes.  I pick my way carefully down the slope and then kneel to cast towards the deeper water at the foot of the small dam.  Again, after multiple casts, nothing doing.

 I reverse course and climb back up the waterfall and continue to the last two ponds that are a short trek upstream. 

Up The Down Staircase

When I mount the first dam, again I am flummoxed.  Both dams have been breached in the middle, and the ponds aren’t not deep enough to float a duck.  Looks like the end of the day as I climb the slope to my waiting SUV.

But wait!  After recharging with a can of RC Cola elixir and a hearty lunch, I refuse to give in and decide to drive upstream a mile or so to another set of beaver ponds with big dams that may have been able to survive last year’s torrent.  As I round the bend just above a couple of the ponds, I see indeed they have and are in good shape, showing signs of recent beaver activity.

Beaver Pond Nirvana

The first dam is so big I decide not to risk scaling it but opt to skirt around its south side.

This requires clambering up a steep slope with occasional crawling, then sliding down to the pond oh so gracefully on my derriere.  But it pays off.  The pond is plenty deep and features a tempting foam line below the next dam upstream. 

Foam Line Follies

On my very first cast, an eager little brook trout nails the San Juan Worm.  

Hungry Brookie Kicks Off The Afternoon

Three more follow quick succession, then I start to work a good-looking spot just above two converging foam lines.  The Royal Stimulator alights daintily just below the outreaching tentacles of several overhanging branches. 

Promising Quiet Slot Between Two Foam Lines

Pinpoint casting, I congratulate myself on, although admittedly luck may have had something to do with it.  Then I notice the Stimi is gone and set the hook.  I hefty fish has taken the dropper and erupts into the air.  He tears downstream with me in hot pursuit.  I hit a muddy stretch, and my wading boots refuse to move.  So I stand there up to my knees in muck and gradually wear down the hard-fighting critter.  It turns out to be a colorful brookie, almost 13-inches long, a veritable leviathan in these waters. 

Brawny Brookie

I continue to probe the two foam lines just below the dam, and low and behold, soon hook and land a surprise brown trout in this brookie haven.  After a good battle he slides into my net, another fish pushing 12-inches. 

Surprise Brownie In Brookie Land

I fool a couple more willing brookies up close against the dam before the action quiets and I head upstream. The next pond has a beautiful foam line that breaks around a stand of dead trees where the bottom drops off.  On the first cast I land another brownie and follow that with a half dozen spunky brookies. 

The Next Honey Hole

Then I spot some fish rising on the opposite shoreline in a foam line that slides under some nasty looking branches.  Who can resist.  The pond is too deep to wade straight across, so I wade back downstream and perform a high-wire act across the dam to the other side successfully.  The Flying Wallendas aerialists have nothing on me! 

Then I bushwhack into position and carefully cast my rig into the maze of sticks and branches.  My old eyes have a hard time seeing the white wing of the Royal Stimulator in the foam line, but a hard jerk on my line lets me know something has dined on one of my flies.  It’s a nice brookie that surfaces with the San Juan Worm in its mouth. 

A Brookie Out Of The Thicket

On the next cast, I push my luck too far and get snagged on one of the grabby branches.  Fortunately, when I give my line one last hard tug, the branch breaks and my rig comes back in one piece with both flies.  I try again, and this time the flies some how dodge the snags, and immediately another brook trout nails the San Juan Worm.  And then another.

I’m thinking I should call it a day and not tempt fate by messing any further with the water thicket above but succumb and head up to the little pool just below the next dam that looks like it can’t miss.  I slide into place to throw a short cast up against the dam, and sure enough, another brookie just can’t resist.  But just as I reach for my net, I feel my left boot start to sink further into the muck, while my right boot refuses to move.  The result is a slow-motion fall sideways into a mud-covered sandbar.  There is no danger as the water is shallow, and I have to laugh while the cold water seeps into my waders as my left elbow sinks into the muck.  After a few tries, I manage to extricate and right myself.  But the brookie has won her freedom.  This is definitely a sign that I should leave the next pond above featuring a big dam and shoreline completely surrounded by a mass of dead trees and branches, for another day. 

This one has been a good one where persistence (or hard-headed stubbornness) has paid off.   As I leave, I tip my hat to the inimitable Wizards of Gnaws!! They have had the answer to the runoff riddle.

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