Post by RickL on Sept 5, 2003 21:31:25 GMT -6
My apologies for the length of this, but I had written this over aperiod of time and cobbled them together. I hope this may help. I heartily reccommend William Lake if you want to go for Brownies, with the occassional smallmouth thrown in.
William Lake is located to the east of Turtle Mountain Provincial Park in southwestern Manitoba and contains a number of fish species, including rainbows (stocked quite some time ago), perch (the lake is teeming with the little darlings), walleye, recently stocked smallmouth, and brown trout. The walleye were stocked some time ago, but a Natural Resources officer told me that a 27" walleye had been caught in 1999 by an angler who did not realize he was on a trout lake. The officer couldn't remember any other walleye being caught in recent times. The smallmouth were stocked this past year (1999) in an effort to reduce the perch population. This stocking will make for added interest for anglers because the trout are tough to catch in William, especially during the summer, when they seem quite scarce. It's the browns though that draw me to William.
I like to wade more than any other mode of fishing, which works out well with my not owning a boat.(as of 1999) In the summer, though, you can catch a perch on nearly every other cast when you are in the shallows. The perch are generally not that big and can get to be a bit tiresome. I've heard that some folk had some success avoiding the perch with fishing the depths, using a sinking line and nymphs out in the middle of the lake, but … Others report they fish the surface and reduce the number of perch they catch, too.
My solution seemed to be to go to William when the browns would be cruising the shallows in the fall, so my sons and I headed out in mid-October 1998. The weather was not exactly what you want for a picnic but it turned out fine for catching brown trout. The temperature that morning was about 4 degrees Celsius above zero, with thick fog and drizzle. Great! The trout would be less likely to spot me. I'd like to take credit for the foresight to have worn my grey jacket so I would just disappear in the fog, but that would be stretching things a tad too much. Maybe I'll take credit for not wearing the bright yellow one?
When I entered the water I knew it was about sunrise judging by the hour, but it just didn't get any brighter over the next hour or so. I could hear geese out in the water, but you couldn't see more than a 30' cast. I found I was relying more on my hearing than vision and was excited by the noisy splashes of nearby trout. I waded out about midthigh deep and started to slowly work along the shore starting at the pumphouse at the campground and making my way eastward. I had a few smaller brown trout, about 13", on small grey nymphs in extremely shallow water, less than a foot deep in a couple of cases.
I tried a number of other patterns with a little success, a #6 black Zonker, and a #10 Grizzly Marabou streamer, but there was a noticeable pickup in the action when I switched to a #6 Beadhead Wooly Bugger with an olive crystal body and Chartreuse tail. The strikes were quite savage. I missed a hook set and could still see the fish. I quickly tried to cast to it but … I imagine that fly is still up in that oak tree somewhere. In my flybox I had a #6 Chartreuse Zonker with a gold Mylar body, it looked similar to the other fly. Maybe it was perch-like? A matching of the prey, perhaps.
I tied on the new fly and noticed something was different. The morning was growing brighter, the fog had lifted, but the sky still was a solid grey. There seemed to be as much water in those thick clouds as in the lake. The lightening of the day lifted my mood. I was psyched; the last fish I missed was the best of the morning so far. Things were going to be good! It was one of those times when for no particularly logical reason you know that great things are about to be. I cast out to the edge of a small cluster of reeds and stripped in about a foot of line when a splash signaled a fish was on. A beauty of a brown trout jumped several times before coming to hand and was the largest so far - 16 1/2". He was a handsome male with the hooked jaw of a trout with things on his mind. Yes, this chartreuse fly seemed to be the thing. I was on a roll!
Half an hour later it was not looking so good after all. You know how it is - you've got it figured out but the trout just don't quite seem to be getting it. They say trout are smart, but you know after half an hour of offering up delicious looking perch substitutes without a fish taking it, that brown trout just have to be dumber than a post.
"One last chance, guys. That's it, then I'll just have to give you something else," I said to no one, hopefully. There was a drop off of about a foot ahead of me. I cast parallel to the shore and stripped the line in, more of an automatic movement; a rhythm of the muscles while the mind was elsewhere. Sandhill cranes were flying overhead and whamo! Something, a big something, was on. This was a much more substantial fish than the 16 1/2" male earlier. A few seconds after my wimpy hookset the fish was off. Well, that was okay, I guess. This was obviously a better quality of fish. (No, it wasn't okay. I was darned disappointed.)
The adrenaline had not cleared yet when another cast along the drop off was made. This time my attention was not on the cranes as I stripped in the line. I followed the fly in until it was about 15' away when the chartreuse just disappeared. Another strike! The rod tip dipped and I nearly lost hold of my rod, as I was too stunned to set the hook. It didn't matter, that fish was solidly hooked. I could tell that from the way the knot between my leader and tippet had come apart. The hook was surely in the mouth of some huge brown trout. Out there, somewhere…
As the afternoon progressed I stayed with the Chartreuse theme and caught a few trout in the 16" range. I was happy; this was my best day of fishing for brown trout even if I had lost the two biggest fish. The sun had set and my arms were tiring but I figured the twilight might offer another chance for a substantial fish.
I had returned to the gravel area near the campground pumphouse and had tied on two flies. One was a Black Zonker with a bit of crosscut white rabbit fur palmered along the body while ahead of it was a Chartreuse Wooly Bugger. The theory was that one of them was going to be more visible in the waning light, and to me it seemed the black was easier to see in the water.
The highlight of the day came as it was getting dark to see. It seemed that this was when the fish would have the least chance of spotting me so with a keen eagerness I cast out into the gloom. After a few casts and one missed strike I was picking up to make another cast. The Chartreuse fly broke and cleared the surface of the water when a mighty splash occurred. A trout jumped and caught the fly in the arc of its flight. The acceleration of the fly must have been too much for the trout to resist and there was no mistake in this fight as a 19+" male in resplendent colours was landed. Not Bad! This was a great end to the day.
William Lake is located to the east of Turtle Mountain Provincial Park in southwestern Manitoba and contains a number of fish species, including rainbows (stocked quite some time ago), perch (the lake is teeming with the little darlings), walleye, recently stocked smallmouth, and brown trout. The walleye were stocked some time ago, but a Natural Resources officer told me that a 27" walleye had been caught in 1999 by an angler who did not realize he was on a trout lake. The officer couldn't remember any other walleye being caught in recent times. The smallmouth were stocked this past year (1999) in an effort to reduce the perch population. This stocking will make for added interest for anglers because the trout are tough to catch in William, especially during the summer, when they seem quite scarce. It's the browns though that draw me to William.
I like to wade more than any other mode of fishing, which works out well with my not owning a boat.(as of 1999) In the summer, though, you can catch a perch on nearly every other cast when you are in the shallows. The perch are generally not that big and can get to be a bit tiresome. I've heard that some folk had some success avoiding the perch with fishing the depths, using a sinking line and nymphs out in the middle of the lake, but … Others report they fish the surface and reduce the number of perch they catch, too.
My solution seemed to be to go to William when the browns would be cruising the shallows in the fall, so my sons and I headed out in mid-October 1998. The weather was not exactly what you want for a picnic but it turned out fine for catching brown trout. The temperature that morning was about 4 degrees Celsius above zero, with thick fog and drizzle. Great! The trout would be less likely to spot me. I'd like to take credit for the foresight to have worn my grey jacket so I would just disappear in the fog, but that would be stretching things a tad too much. Maybe I'll take credit for not wearing the bright yellow one?
When I entered the water I knew it was about sunrise judging by the hour, but it just didn't get any brighter over the next hour or so. I could hear geese out in the water, but you couldn't see more than a 30' cast. I found I was relying more on my hearing than vision and was excited by the noisy splashes of nearby trout. I waded out about midthigh deep and started to slowly work along the shore starting at the pumphouse at the campground and making my way eastward. I had a few smaller brown trout, about 13", on small grey nymphs in extremely shallow water, less than a foot deep in a couple of cases.
I tried a number of other patterns with a little success, a #6 black Zonker, and a #10 Grizzly Marabou streamer, but there was a noticeable pickup in the action when I switched to a #6 Beadhead Wooly Bugger with an olive crystal body and Chartreuse tail. The strikes were quite savage. I missed a hook set and could still see the fish. I quickly tried to cast to it but … I imagine that fly is still up in that oak tree somewhere. In my flybox I had a #6 Chartreuse Zonker with a gold Mylar body, it looked similar to the other fly. Maybe it was perch-like? A matching of the prey, perhaps.
I tied on the new fly and noticed something was different. The morning was growing brighter, the fog had lifted, but the sky still was a solid grey. There seemed to be as much water in those thick clouds as in the lake. The lightening of the day lifted my mood. I was psyched; the last fish I missed was the best of the morning so far. Things were going to be good! It was one of those times when for no particularly logical reason you know that great things are about to be. I cast out to the edge of a small cluster of reeds and stripped in about a foot of line when a splash signaled a fish was on. A beauty of a brown trout jumped several times before coming to hand and was the largest so far - 16 1/2". He was a handsome male with the hooked jaw of a trout with things on his mind. Yes, this chartreuse fly seemed to be the thing. I was on a roll!
Half an hour later it was not looking so good after all. You know how it is - you've got it figured out but the trout just don't quite seem to be getting it. They say trout are smart, but you know after half an hour of offering up delicious looking perch substitutes without a fish taking it, that brown trout just have to be dumber than a post.
"One last chance, guys. That's it, then I'll just have to give you something else," I said to no one, hopefully. There was a drop off of about a foot ahead of me. I cast parallel to the shore and stripped the line in, more of an automatic movement; a rhythm of the muscles while the mind was elsewhere. Sandhill cranes were flying overhead and whamo! Something, a big something, was on. This was a much more substantial fish than the 16 1/2" male earlier. A few seconds after my wimpy hookset the fish was off. Well, that was okay, I guess. This was obviously a better quality of fish. (No, it wasn't okay. I was darned disappointed.)
The adrenaline had not cleared yet when another cast along the drop off was made. This time my attention was not on the cranes as I stripped in the line. I followed the fly in until it was about 15' away when the chartreuse just disappeared. Another strike! The rod tip dipped and I nearly lost hold of my rod, as I was too stunned to set the hook. It didn't matter, that fish was solidly hooked. I could tell that from the way the knot between my leader and tippet had come apart. The hook was surely in the mouth of some huge brown trout. Out there, somewhere…
As the afternoon progressed I stayed with the Chartreuse theme and caught a few trout in the 16" range. I was happy; this was my best day of fishing for brown trout even if I had lost the two biggest fish. The sun had set and my arms were tiring but I figured the twilight might offer another chance for a substantial fish.
I had returned to the gravel area near the campground pumphouse and had tied on two flies. One was a Black Zonker with a bit of crosscut white rabbit fur palmered along the body while ahead of it was a Chartreuse Wooly Bugger. The theory was that one of them was going to be more visible in the waning light, and to me it seemed the black was easier to see in the water.
The highlight of the day came as it was getting dark to see. It seemed that this was when the fish would have the least chance of spotting me so with a keen eagerness I cast out into the gloom. After a few casts and one missed strike I was picking up to make another cast. The Chartreuse fly broke and cleared the surface of the water when a mighty splash occurred. A trout jumped and caught the fly in the arc of its flight. The acceleration of the fly must have been too much for the trout to resist and there was no mistake in this fight as a 19+" male in resplendent colours was landed. Not Bad! This was a great end to the day.