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Day 4

Another beautiful day.  Almost immediately after setting foot in the cool waters of the Grand we began to notice light and dark Hendricksons coming off the water.  At first we could only see a few around riffles, however within a few hours hundreds filled the sky.  The weather had finally reached the right temperature for hatches to occur, and it was time to give dry flies and emergers a try.  It wasn't long before fish could be seen and heard rising, feasting on the growing Hendricksons.

The bugs were a distinct cinnamon color, with females featuring a highly visible yellow egg sac, and a slightly lighter body coloration.  Despite our efforts, only small fish were taken on dries, albeit lots of them.  Moments before dusk I decided to strip a very large, 3" zonker through one of the pools we had been fishing all day with dries.  If nothing else, I figured I may hook another pike.  After ripping the zonker through the pool at least a dozen times I hit pay dirt!  The line stopped during the retrieve, as if the fly hit a concrete wall.  Simultaneously the rod shook violently side to side as I tried to keep tension while reeling in the slack line.  Before I could yell "Paul" the zonker shot out of the water, right at my head.  As quick as it came,

Hundreds of thousands of Hendricksons filled the air, forming huge moving clouds by night fall.  Some size 10 black sedge flies were also present, but not nearly as many.  After witnessing the largest spinner fall of my life we headed for camp; satisfied with the day's results, but still hoping for some bigger fish.

Day 5

Jay Newell, good friend and owner of Jay's Fly Shop in London came by camp at 6:30am.  Jay managed to get the time off work to join us for a day, which was great as we were counting on his expertise on the Grand to hook some larger fish.  As we loaded the gear in the truck, Jay explained that we were going to try a different section of the river; the middle section between Fergus and Elora.  An area known for big fish.

After only a few minutes of watching Jay at work it was easy to tell why he did what he did.  With deadly accuracy and delicate presentations Jay moved from riffle to riffle stalking rising fish.  It was quite amazing to watch.  We drifted pheasant tail nymphs, caddis pupa, and even a few dries with Jay picking up some smaller fish here and there.

With no luck on nymphs and dries I decided it was time to resort to my bread and butter streamers and see if I could stir up some action.  Jay wisely directed me to a deep pool at the end of a large riffle.  With a size 6 gold beaded black woolly bugger I seemed somewhat out of place, chucking this large streamer between fly fishers casting size 18 dries.  Oh well.   It wasn't long before the streamer paid off.  With other fly fishers looking on I saw a huge golden flash behind my bugger as I stripped it through the pool.  Another strip and BANG, the fish was on.  In plain sight a huge, 20+ inch brown rolled and twisted with my bugger imbedded deep into it's jaws.  With my 5wt being put to the test, I turned to look for Jay who by this point was already looking at me trying to race downstream to see what I had.  Unfortunately before I could turn back around, and long before Jay could get to me, a loud ping echoed through the air as my 6x tippet snapped.  In disbelief I stared at the fly line, drifting freely in the breeze.  Instead of being wise and putting on stronger tippet, I hastily tied

on another large beaded woolly bugger and started stripping.  Not 4 casts later did I see another golden flash behind my bugger.  Right away I increased the speed of my retrieve and sure enough, BANG the golden flash returned as my line went tight.  Another 20+ inch brown had swallowed the bugger, only this time the battle was short lived.  The tension on the 6x tippet from me stripping and the trout jerking in the opposite direction was too great.  The fish swam away, bugger in mouth while I looked at Jay and uttered words I care not to repeat.  Unbelievable, after 5 days of little fish, within two minutes I had hooked two 20+ inch browns and broke them both off.  Despite beefing up my tippet and casting buggers until my arm was sore the fish showed no interest.  If anyone happens to be

fishing between Fergus and Elora, around the old railway bridge, and hooks a decent brown with a black woolly bugger in it, well, now you know the story behind it.

We continued to move around and explore new sections of the river, such as Wilson's Flats.  Jay kept to his dry and nymph techniques, picking up fish every few minutes.  He landed the largest fish of the day at the Flats.  A nice 16" second year fish on a dry, a great sight to see before heading back to camp.

Even though we had not landed any large fish during our trip, the scenery, people and the experience alone were worth it.  After seeing, and fishing this beautiful river it's easy to tell why they call it the Grand. If you're thinking about going to the Grand, I would strongly suggest hooking up with a local or even a guide.  Especially if you have not been there before.  The amount of water and the intricacies of Grand River brown trout can be more than one can imagine, and having an expert on hand is priceless. As far as the fishing goes, well, I gained an incredible appreciation for the people who fly fish the Grand.  The fishery is so unique that

catching that 20" fish amongst a sea of stockies may mean drifting a size 26 dry fly for three hours day after day with outmost patience.  Now it's off to the bench to tie up more dry flies than I ever have before.  Why?  Well because the Isonychia and March Brown hatch is just around the corner on the Grand, and I am not about to let those browns just swim away with my woolly buggers.

Written By: Nick Pujic, © May, 2004
Photographs By:  © 2004 Nick Pujic, Paul Langford
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