I’m just good enough on the guitar to be lousy, and unabashedly admit to being a sucker for Simon and Garfunkel and Peter Paul and Mary tunes, among others. This morning, the latter’s version of Lightfoot’s “In the Early Morning Rain” was softly playing — and I was doing a mighty fine job of singing along (like any dude in his truck will happily admit) — as I poked through sleepy Traverse City en route to a favorite stretch of the Boardman. Ironically — and thankfully — a light rain began falling shortly after pulling away from home.
Folks don’t typically venture out on purpose “after” it starts raining, though the neighbor kids giggling and rolling around in a knee-deep mud puddle during a downpour the other day restored a little of my faith in America’s youth. But anglers who understand its important role have been known to giggle and frolic in the water as well for another reason: fishing.
Since rain this time of year is often associated with adverse conditions, it’s fair to begin with when “not” to go out, specifically while it’s lightning. And if you hear thunder, always assume lightning is nearby, like an annoying little cousin who shows up at every family reunion and kicks you in the shins. With cellphones and weather apps, there are no excuses to not have at least an idea of what to expect. That said, many anglers have been surprised by distant weather blowing in fast, and the best remedy is to get to safety posthaste and either wait it out or live to go another day. It’s just a fish, after all — ‘nuff said.
Sometimes, though, rain occurs without all the fluff, and you can either plan to be there on the front end (properly clothed), or keep fishing through it if you’re already there. Either way, it can be some of the best fishing of the summer, so it helps to first understand what’s going on to your local stream when new water enters the system.
For starters, rain drops help aerate surface water, replenishing low dissolved oxygen levels while also cooling the water — two areas where rivers struggle during the hot summer months. Both effects can stimulate trout activity. As rain washes into the system, the water becomes dirtier or discolored, and can even begin rising, though that takes some time and a lot of water to occur, depending on how much rain has fallen in recent days.
So a lethargic fish that’s been avoiding bright sun and warm water temps by laying low in its few remaining cool-water hideouts (typically inaccessible to the angler) is now on the move at a time when the sky and water are darker, and stream velocity may even be increasing. The table is set for the third part of the perfect storm, pun intended: food.
Opinions vary concerning what happens next, and I sort of subscribe to all of them. Mayflies hatch in overcast conditions; increased water and velocity help dislodge nymphs from bottom gravel; rain (especially harder rain) pelts mayflies and hoppers downward to the water’s surface; water running along banks gathers other terrestrials like ants and beetles, not to mention invertebrates like worms and grubs; minnows begin feeding on the increased food, which in turn triggers the predatory urge in large browns looking for minnows of their own. Plausible to the last, so I cater my fishing tactics accordingly until I find the most productive method that day.
Hatches are easiest to discern, but I won’t wait long if trout aren’t feeding up top. In all honesty, I rarely have hit a good rainy-day hatch, especially this time of year. Where hoppers and stimulators provide more action than other terrestrials during dry, breezy days, I’ve had better luck with ants and beetles when rain pools them together along sandbars and they dribble into the river. Their small dark size, especially ants, can be hard to see among raindrops, so an orange wing post tied on their back makes them more visible.
If nothing’s working on the surface, it’s below we go. A two-nymph rig under an indicator or dropper nymph beneath a hopper or stonefly works great. Dislodged nymphs, like caddis, seem to float more freely than when swimming to the surface during a hatch, causing hits that are difficult to feel, so I’ll cast them upstream as a dead drift and rely on the indicator or dry fly (let’s call them what they are — bobbers) for strikes. Worm patterns (like a San Juan worm) work well fished the same way.
Whether or not streamer fishing is enjoyable, it’s probably the most effective rainy-day tactic (mine, at least), especially for big trout. But whatever method you’re using, remember that aggressive fish stimulated by all of these conditions will often occupy new places in the stream, not just the same predictable runs we always look to. They’re either actively chasing food over more water or the conditions change underneath and provide better food channels or different seams to rest between eating. Work diligently, looking for slower pockets along current seams and also directly along the banks (even if it’s shallower), as runoff will often gather food in these areas, as well as from the sandy/rocky shore and overhanging vegetation.
So give it a try. Sunny days are all too frequent, and thankfully so. We have grass to cut, beaches to visit, brats to grill, and golf balls to lose. But rainy days are made for trout fishing. The canoe-kayak-tube brigade — God bless them — will be relegated to only the diehards, and you should find plenty of water to yourself. Pack accordingly or embrace being wet. After all, a little rain never hurt anyone.