In Search of Small Stream Gems
Photo courtesy of Simon Stephen
If you drive east out of our Willamette Valley, you will find yourself in the densely forested west slope of the Cascades. We all know our region gets its fair share of rain; it is this western slope of the Cascades job to corral all of that rain and guide it to the valley floor. Through a complex series of draws, springs, seeps, trickles, creeks, and streams, these tributaries drain entire watersheds. Much of this water finds its way to our mighty Willamette River, and ultimately, through the Columbia River and on to the Pacific Ocean.
Trout inhabit most of these systems from the valley floor to the upper headwater reaches of our major rivers. Generally as you move to higher elevations, away from major population centers, water purity improves and so do trout genetics. Trout need extremely cold, clean water to thrive and that is exactly what the upper reaches of our most prized rivers and creeks in the valley offer. It is no surprise that some of the most beautiful, unique looking trout in the state are tucked away where no one can find them.
Our valley’s small streams are inhabited by a number of salmonids, and those residents differ with each drainage. In most of our tributaries, you can find rainbow trout, coastal cutthroat trout, and mountain whitefish, just to name a few. Most of these fish feed exclusively on aquatic insects, and there is no better way to pursue them than with a light weight fly rod. There are also countless other salmonids, other fish species, aquatic insects, birds, reptiles, amphibians, plants, fungi, and mammals that depend on these precious waterways to survive. In our modern world we may seem removed from these places, but we too rely on this clean water.
Like anything worthwhile, you have to wait and work for it, and that is exactly what Mother Nature does with her small streams.
During the winter, to most anglers, trout seem to vanish from these systems. A trout’s metabolism slows down in the winter months as food becomes more scarce. You will not see trout eating dry flies in the winter because there aren’t many insects hatching. Aquatic insects from the summer prior are maturing fast over the winter, in preparation for their emergence in the warmer months to come. Despite the abundance of food on the river bottom, there are not as many insects suspended in the water column; as a result, trout choose to conserve energy and sit tight for summer. The work to reward ratio on small streams for anglers and trout alike in the winter is a tough pill to swallow. Exercising restraint in the winter is a lesson that I’ve learned makes summer small stream fishing much sweeter.
As spring rolls around, low elevation snowmelt continues to make fishing these streams difficult. Raging water means trout, again, hunker down for harsh conditions. But every year, around late May or early June, something special happens. The spring rains slow and the last of the mid to low elevation snow melt dries up. Wildflowers begin to pop, the upper canopy seems to fill in overnight, and trees turn bushy with leaves. Aquatic and terrestrial insects begin their life cycles once again, and the trout seem to magically reappear in the small streams with the change of seasons.
This is the time of year to grab your gear and head out to explore that small stream that you’ve always wondered if trout inhabit. Generally if it is a tributary on our interior, western slope of the Cascades, there are trout that call the stream home. These fish are gorgeous, and their looks can differ stream to stream and even from section to section. Trout that inhabit pools with that stunning glaciated blue color will have a natural blue hue to them, others in more tannic systems will be dark. Trout in streams without much cover are generally lighter in color to match the rainbow of river stones coating the bottom, while fish from streams with a thick canopy will be extremely dark, as they have lived most of their life in the shadows of the old growth forest.
A juvenile rainbow trout, or “parr.” Photo courtesy of Simon Stephen
Typically the fish here are on the smaller side, but as a rule, young trout or “parr” sport the most gorgeous markings. Most juvenile trout have “parr” marks while they are young; these are deep blue spots running along the lateral line of immature fish. These distinct markings aid in camouflage for juvenile trout. They fade as trout age, and by the time they are gone most trout have left their natal streams and moved downstream into larger systems with more food.
There is something special about tromping your way up a small stream. It is much more intimate than fishing a larger river and it is much more slowly paced. As a result, the whole experience is much more mindful. Often a day spent on a small stream becomes a bit of a time warp. Wading in a small tributary fully engages most of your senses: being on the lookout for ideal holding water and rising fish, smelling the blooms of the wildflowers, hearing the rushing creek cascading over thousand year old boulders, and feeling the cold water rush against your legs. This is a whole body experience and you enter a flow state that is a testament to the notion that time indeed is relative.
The stream meanders following an ancient path that has cut its way through our Cascades over hundreds of thousands of years. Being a part of this process is a gift. As you round each corner, you are filled with excitement not knowing what the next patch of water may look like. Will there be a big pool, a massive rock outcropping, an old tree that spans over the river, or maybe something completely different?
A stream somewhere in the West Cascades. Photo courtesy of Simon Stephen
Around each corner is hope for finding the “prime lie”. This is the ideal holding water for the big trout that is in charge of this portion of the stream. There aren’t many of these big fish in the streams, but all of our tributaries have the potential for holding gorgeous, native, and wild trout that are pushing 20-plus inches. This lie is the prime piece of real estate in the stream and it is no surprise that the oldest trout calls it home. Generally, this location has cover and food nearby that allows the fish to feed constantly without ever moving. Only the biggest, wisest fish have the opportunity to feed without exposing themselves to predators.
Aside from the elusive large trout, there are countless gorgeous juvenile trout that call these streams home. These fish are willing participants and take dry flies with reckless abandon. Within each run or pool there is a trout who is in charge. Trout organize themselves hierarchically according to size and strength. Part of the fun of working a small stream is finding the “pool boss” of each section.
Trout also often “pod up” according to species. My favorite is finding a pod of coastal cutthroat and picking it apart. They are ravenous and have an electric personality, often soaring out of the water with your fly in their mouth. Many also believe they are the most beautiful that the valley has to offer. They sport large dark spots on a shimmery, rainbow like background. Mature males can have stunning rosy cheeks, but all cutthroat sport the iconic scarlet “slash” beneath their jaw. Hence the name “cut throat trout”. Large specimens are especially rare, and are some of the most sought after valley residents. When observing a breathtaking coastal cutthroat in my net, time always seems to slow.
Isn’t that what we all search for in our recreational pursuits?
The Pool Boss. Photo courtesy of Simon Stephen
Just being able to cross paths with these fish that have called our mountains home for hundreds of thousands of years is a gift, and we must remember that we are visitors in their home. To experience a part of these salmonid’s 100 million year old story is something profound. Encountering these fish in the upper reaches of our valley’s tributaries allows us to experience them in their most pure form that we can in this day and age.
These gorgeous creatures have a strict set of requirements to thrive. Clean and cold water, healthy riparian habitat, adequate spawning substrate, ample cover for feeding and spawning to name a few. These fish would demand these things and more if they could, but unfortunately they cannot. It is our responsibility to be stewards of these species and spaces and assist all inhabitants of the watershed to have the healthy home that they deserve. The more of us that have the pleasure of losing track of time on a small stream, means there will be more who will advocate to protect these fragile ecosystems.
Like the gorgeous spectacle of autumn leaves, spring wildflowers, and a dusting of fresh snow, Mother Nature often makes us wait and gives us short windows to enjoy her most beautiful sights. Our own Willamette Valley offers countless small streams to enjoy that few seize the opportunity to explore. Getting well off the beaten path will reward one with solitude, rejuvenation, and an opportunity to learn valuable lessons about oneself and their surroundings. Please remember to slow down and savor the short windows we have to experience Mother Nature’s precious small streams.
Simon Stephen (aka Fly_Goddd on Instagram) is a fly fisher, writer for Oregon Fly Fishing Blog, and works at the Caddis Fly Shop in Eugene, Oregon. If you need any pointers or gear to chase trout on small streams, he and the rest of the crew at the Caddis Fly would be happy to assist you the same way they’ve served the rest of our community for over 50 years.