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March 25, 2001 Lower Stanislaus Time:6:30pm- 3:00pm Hours fished: 6.5 It’s 5:04 am according to my alarm clock. This morning, like so many others this year, I ignore it. Getting up early and battling the crowds on the Lower Stanislaus is something I’ve avoided all year. It’s March an I’ve yet to fish this year. I dreaded it really. I’ve found the thought fatiguing. It’s now 5:18. I’m awake again. No alarm this time, just me. I’d been looking forward to fishing all week. Now, again, I find the thought fatiguing. Something draws me out of bed and I am quickly dressed. A groggy good by to my wife and quick glance at the dog and I am out of the door. The tulle fog is my companion through the fields and orchards on the outskirts of Modesto. In Oakdale I drop by a friends house to quickly leave a belated Xmas gift by his door. I’m rounding the corner to the 3rd cattle guard by 6:15. There are already two anglers suiting up as I park my car. It would seem the crowding has begun. The ritual is a familiar one and I am quickly heading to the river. No longer dreading the crowds, my thoughts drift toward the river. March can be a tough time to fish the Stan. I’m not sure why, the midges are still active, the caddis and BWO are active but the fishing slows in comparison to January and February. In general the fish are smaller in March, presumably because the larger steelhead have headed back to the Delta and the salmon smolt are growing quickly and slashing at every fly in sight. In some years the water is high but this year that is not the case. Low water means crowds, high water means just me. I fall into my normal Stan routine, fish near the dam first and work my way down. The fishing at the dam is slow; this is not unexpected but is disappointing nonetheless. This is the sweetest spot on the river. I manage to pick a few fish up on midges and worms. It’s good to be out. I’ve missed fishing the Stan and beneath the roar of the dam the crowds seem a world away. I fish my normal Stan rod. The 10ft 5wt Fisher is a giant compared to the high country 4wt Diamondback and bamboo Tonka Queen I’ve become accustom to over the past two years. I’m fishing my home river in my traditional manner, a 10ft 5wt throwing yarn with a dropper rig. The right angle method is king on this river and I need to practice yarn for my next trip, the San Juan in New Mexico. I climb out of the canyon and make my way down stream a bit. Two other fly fishers are also climbing out. We exchange greetings. They climb down to where I was and I to where they were. I tie on a z-wing caddis and little brown emerger, two of the Stanislaus 6. (The six flies I rely on to catch fish on the Stan.) Almost immediately I’m getting strikes. I’m surprised. I consider this area one of the hardest on the river and the fellows here before me didn’t seem to have much luck. I’m relaxed and fishing a very slack line- this must be the key. The fly line rolls effortlessly from the rod tip as I make my cast. I stack three casts behind it and then let the pile of fly line and indicator float downstream. They ride like a snail on the current. The indicator bobs and I pull the fly line by hand and teeth, trying to catch up with the slack. It’s is a funny sight I’m sure and it can’t be too good for my fly line but it works, occasionally. I manage to land close to a half a dozen fish. A LaFontaine ESP is responsible for most of them. A size 14 green caddis lands on my hand as I leave. Further downstream I have more luck fishing a short riffle. Close in, high sticking is a little tough in brush but I manage to do it without breaking anything. My last fish of the day was a nice 13-inch rainbow, taken on a size 16 zug bug. A fly I’d never fished before but fished confidently due to its resemblance with the prince nymph, another one of the Stanislaus Six. Today I managed to avoid crowding with the half dozen or so fly fishers I saw and catch 15 or so fish in half as many hours. I’ve come to realize there never are any bad days on the Stan.
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