Trip Report: Lower Stan

Last Sunday, I was able to take a rare weekend day off to fish. This was part two of the exchange program between Mr. X and I. He had already shown me Putah Creek on a float tube and now it was my turn to show him Two Mile Bar on the Lower Stan.

We met at 6am in the parking lot. After putting our stuff together, we walked down and found the river at a very good wading level. It was clear and cold. And interestingly enough, for a Sunday, it was pretty much empty. All day long.

This was my first time starting out at Two Mile. Normally, I begin the morning at Tulloch and switch locations in early afternoon. It was a nice change of pace. Upon arriving, we started at the top of the first riffle below the long slow pool coming down the canyon. Even though a hatch was on, it started out slow. I did my usual swing and step down the river while Mr. X stayed a bit in the slower water above the riffle. After making it to the island, I still hadn't caught anything. I covered a good portion of both channels until I started catching a few 10 inch rainbows on a small white soft hackle.

Traveling on the far side of the river from the parking area, we headed down river. I think I spent more time changing flies and swapping sink tips than I did fishing. At one point I even tied on a big old grasshopper as an indicator and a small nymph trailing down from that. That probably doesn't sound unusual. But for me, someone who rarely puts on a surface fly, and even more rarely uses an indicator, it was quite unusual. It should be no surprise that I didn't catch anything. I don't think I could of felt more out of my element. However, I'd like to broaden my horizons and try new techniques. Afterward, I switched to some of those big streamer flies on a sinking tip and swam them in the current below me as the water churned through some boulders. I may of gotten a bite or two, but that was about it.

We decided to head back up river to revisit some spots from early in the morning before making a move up the road to Tulloch. Once making the drive, Mr. X suggested we fish near the dam. A place I had never been before, at least not that close to the falls. Boy did that mist feel good on this hot day.

Fish were everywhere, but they didn't want anything I presented to them. And I tried a whole lot of flies. We gave it quite a while and then headed down river. After a little while longer, Mr. X decided to call it a day. At that point, I went back up river and caught a few more fish about a quarter way to the dam. Again in the 10 inch range.

I was getting bored with Tulloch, so I went back down the road to Two Mile. Fishing started out slow, but as the sun began to lower, it started picking up. For a while, I was catching a fish every 5 or 10 minutes. As you can guess, they were all in the 10-12 inch area.

This was a big day for experimentation. Soft hackles, nymphs, streamers, steelhead flies, dries, terrestrials, I tried them all. Only the soft hackles were producing for me. Mostly on the downward leg of the swing with a few coming during the dead drift on an upriver cast.

It was getting dark and I was about to throw in the towel when I hooked what felt like a large fish. I was quite surprised because of the constant supply of small fish. At first he didn't seem very big, but then he really pulled hard as he got within 15 feet of me. The fight when on for a little while, but the guy started to get tired and I could scoop him up pretty easy with my hand. I was actually surprised to see he was only about 15 inches. Considering the fight he gave me, I expected him to be a little bigger. Like some of the others during the minutes prior to dark, he was caught on a small size 16 wet fly. This one was a black winged wet. After letting him rest behind my leg, he sped off, full of energy.

As I was standing in the river, trying to catch a few more as it became almost pitch black out, I heard a siren blare in the distance. I didn't know what it was initially since it was echoing off the canyon walls. About five minutes later, it happened again. For a paranoid moment, I thought it might have been some kind of warning that the river was about to rise, so I quickly exited the water. Then reality set in and I remembered that I was supposed to be out of the parking lot by sunset. It must have been someone trying to hurry me up.

I got out of the river, dug out my flashlight and headed back to the car. Sure enough, the Sheriff was waiting for me. Woops!

All in all, it was a great day. I didn't accurately keep track of how many fish I caught, but it was somewhere north of 15. All of them except the one were in the 9-12 inch range (I'm not counting the few dinks that somehow opened their mouths wide enough to get hooked). The Lower Stan continues to be an ego booster.