Over the past couple of years I have been looking for a place where I can consistently read good fly fishing literature. I have many literary angling books, but those get pricey and sometimes I just want to read something short. As I have been reading blogs lately, I decided there were enough people out there who might have a similar desire and ambition. I started contacting folks, and, well, here we are.

Our website is under development but you can get a flavor of it from the About Us page and learn about the editorial board and more on both the general philosophy of the magazine as well as the specific topics we hope to cover.

We are in the process of soliciting articles from a wide range of authors covering an array of topics. If you would like to be considered for publication, please read the Submission Guidelines.

If you have any questions or comments about Rise Forms, please use the contact page.

We anticipate launching in the fall of 2010. We look forward to reading your submissions.

Scott Carles,
Editor-in-Chief
Rise Forms: Fly fishing’s literary voice

Saturday we rode to southern Idaho for a look at the wild and scenic Bruneau River. We only fished about 45 minutes there and didn’t raise a thing. The water was a bit high and off-color. But it sure was beautiful at the overlook in the gorge section!

Here is a Google Earth view of the area. The overlook is the blue box on the right. The Matterhorn in the distance. Notice the discolored circular area to the lower right? Bombing range for the air force base at Mountain Home, Idaho.

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The gallery below contains more pictures from the trip (including a “cartoon” version of many of the pics—apparently someone was a bit bored).

music by Andy McKee

It kind of worked. Except for the slackers who didn’t show. And those who were too lame to stick with the hopper the whole time (ahem—more on that later, and I’m naming names).

Dan and Doug from Canada (BC) were there to fish with us. I met Doug through Angler’s Life List and Native Fish Network forum. They were doing a two week native fish extravaganza through the desert northwest and Rocky Mountains. They were coming through Utah at the time of the event, so they joined us.

And there was Robert and me. It was great finally meeting Robert face-to-face since I’ve been harassing him for a year to fish together. Robert’s a good man, tying and supplying all the hoppers we’d need (he must have brought three dozen or so). But he’s also a nice guy to hang with. Actually, we still haven’t fished together since I spent the whole time fishing with Doug, and Robert fished with Dan. So you’re not off the hook yet, Robert!

I rode the motorcycle through the canyon, enjoying the bracing air and swooping glide of the corners. We met at the Temple Fork parking lot at 9:00 AM, made introductions, warmed up (I think I’m the only one with that need), then headed up the canyon a couple of miles to divide up and fish. Doug drew the short stick and got stuck with me for the day.

I fished the week before, just a half mile below the Temple Fork turnoff, and had no success with the several grasshopper patterns I tried then. And it seemed to be a repeat on the Hoppertunity day. Although I had never fished the stretch Doug and I were on, the river was familiar enough that I knew we should have been into fish after a good 45 minutes or so of trying. So I made a snap calculated decision to ditch the hopper and go with the fly that brought me luck the previous week: the foam-bodied elk hair caddis. Bam, fish on!

So, Robert, my lame excuse scientifically-sound reasoning is that the fish were taking caddis, not hoppers. I believe the experiment was testing the different hopper patterns, not testing whether the hoppers were enticing enough to get them to take those instead of taking something else. That being the case, I decided to wait until a time when the fish were actually taking hoppers to test the three patterns (which I actually did yesterday fishing the Cub River—more later).

It was interesting to talk with Doug who spends a lot of time steelhead fishing. He asked me several questions about small stream, pocket-water fishing, which is very different from steelhead fishing. I mentioned to him that fishing in front of rocks was a good location, which surprised him. Also the speed of the hook set. After I launched a fingerling over my back because of setting the hook, he asked about how quick he should be striking. I said that it depends on how the fish are taking: sometimes they take sow, but other times they take quick. Usually around here they take quick and the second you see the fish touch the fly, strike! He said that with steelheading, you let the fish take the fly and settle down with it, then strike. Those who strike too soon are the ones who lose the fish.

After a couple of hours, and picking up a handful of fish, we moved up to Franklin Basin and picked up a few more. The leaves were just starting to change colors, which is my favorite time to fish, which was a nice bonus. Although we didn’t really get to test Robert’s flies, it was a good day fishing and an excellent time making new friends.

The colors should start turning here in a week or two. I can’t wait—autumn is my favorite time to fish, especially when the rivers are lit up with color!

Jazz and Fly Fishing trailer from Jazz and Fly Fishing on Vimeo.

Jazz & Fly Fishing TEASER from Jazz and Fly Fishing on Vimeo.

We repeated the trip the past two days, going to Bonneville Creek for about an hour and 45 mins. and then to the Greys.

OK, the trip in July was with our friend, Mike, from Boise, Idaho. We stopped at Bonneville Creek and I took the bottom mile of river and Mike and Dan took the upper. I forgot my camera (inconceivable!) so I have no pictures to document the most unbelievable 3 hours of fishing I have ever had in my life. The fish were taking every cast. I missed/lost a good 20 fish, but I landed, and I kid you not, somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 fish! The average size would be about 10″ and the largest was about 14″. It was to the point by the last half hour that I was just walking through the river heading back to the truck tossing my fly without really trying to catch fish, but I was catching them anyhow. Mike apparently hooked into a good number of them too (we have pictures of him and his fish).

From their we hit the Portneuf only to find it very muddy. So we left.

We got to the Greys about 8:00pm and it was a bit higher than we would like (about 1000 cfs), but it looked fishable, so we set up the trailer. While Dan was setting up the trailer, I sneaked to one of my favorite holes and quickly picked up two 16″ finespotted cutthroats. We spent all of the next catching some beauties. Nothing too big, with the biggest picked up by Dan at about 19″.

This past Wednesday, August 12, Dan and I repeated the trip.

The fishing at Bonneville was good (about 15 each in 1.5 hours). And then it was off to the Greys. We had some pretty good fishing nad picked up more larger fish, each of us bringing to hand a fair number of fish over 16″, but the biggest only 18″. I didn’t catch anything under 12″, with most of them in the 14″-16″ range.

Enjoy the pictures! (Dan has some more pictures of our most recent trip I will add when he gets them to me.)

Am I the only one out there who has suffered from “The Case of the Quickly Caught First Fish” (TCQCF²)? I doubt I am. And I doubt there is a statistical analysis formula capable of determining the odds of QCF².

From a distance, I see the trout rise. I approach the water with respect and caution. The trout is wary and it does no good to storm the bank, splash into the river and flail the water. I must approach soft of foot and light of hand. Gently easing into the water, I am now in trout’s realm.

Another rise.

I silently pull line from the reel then swish the rod tip back and forth to feed line out without letting it touch the water. Measuring each cast against the last riseform until the fly gently settles six feet above the trout.

Again the rise. On my fly.

A swift lift of the rod tip sets the hook. I quickly land the trout, then gently release it.

What happens after this QCF²? The next few moments may be the critical juncture that decides the remainder of the day’s fishing.

I turn in Dan’s direction, who is still on shore, out of sight and awaiting the verdict.

“Did you catch one?” he asks.

“Oh yeah, that was easy. We’re gonna slay ‘em!”

Is this a time when the Fates intervene and give the angler his comeuppance for such a brazen outburst?

Or does the angler decide his own destiny by making some sort of change in tactics or delivery—some type of carelessness creeping in because of the familiarity he thinks he suddenly has because of the QCF²?

Or, let’s say the angler is alone, says nothing, thinks nothing about this QCF². Is there still something in the subconscious that causes a letting down of the guard—an ever so subtle shift?

Or is it just statistical probability keeping the odds in balance?