Sleepytime Explosion Stone

Sleepytime Explosion stone?? Who named this fly... Borat?

My first day at Spotted Bear Ranch as a newbie guide was a memorable one, to say the least.  The head guide at the time walked in with a man wearing what looked like a big, palm-leaf sombrero.
"So you're the new guy, huh? " the head guide asked,  "Let me see your fly box."

I was a little intimidated.  I had never seen a palm-leaf hat that big before.

I had spent the whole winter tying flies in preparation for my first year as a guide.  I was proud of my size 18 zebra midges and hacked together pheasant tails.

"Yeah, that stuff isn't gonna work here."  the head guide quickly remarked as he assessed the contents of my fly boxes.  He handed me MFC's catalog.  "Find 10 patterns in here and put together an order for tomorrow."

The next day I shadowed him on a float down the "lower" stretch of the river and watched fish after fish come up on a Davies' Purple Explosion Stone.

Stoneflies.

Big Stoneflies, a world away from my micro nymphs.

Lesson Learned.


Spotted Bear's big goldens are typically nocturnal. (most likely shortwing stoneflies).  But unlike hungover college students, trout will definitely remember their midnight snack the next morning, without the help of a crumpled up receipt.

Here's a step by step for this davies explosion stone inspired stonefly pattern.  Honorable mentions for names include:  Nocturnal Nancy.  Golden Ticket.  The Midnight Munchie.

  Prep your hook with a beadhead and weighted wire.

Hook: Dai-Riki #270 Size 8.
           Natural Bend 3x long

Bead:  Gold 3.8mm or 5/32"

Thread:  6/0 Camel
Medium Gold Wire

Anchor your weighted wire with thread so the body won't spin.

Wrap your thread towards the back, securing the gold wire on the bottom of the hook shank.

Goose Biots:  Blonde


Secure and split two goose biots

  Tie in a good amount of pearly fluorescent material.  Enough to wrap the entire body of the fly.

   Dubbing:  Hareline  Ice Dub UV Tan


Dub the body, leaving a space behind the beadhead for the thorax.

   Wrap the pearly fluorescent stuff around the body.

Bring the gold wire forward following the segments created by the body wrap.

Tie off and clip the gold wire, leaving the pearly fluorescent stuff to use as a flashback.

 Build the thorax.  Tie in two goose biots for legs

                Dub it!        

 
 Add more goose biots for legs:  Two facing rearward, two facing forward and dub it!

    

Pull the flashback material forward and whip finish.  Then take a brown sharpie and darken the top of the body segments and barr the legs

Using Loon's UV epoxy build the wing case and articulate the legs, pinching them with your fingers then securing the bend with epoxy.

Loon's UV epoxy tends to dry a little bit tacky, so I add hard as nails to give the wingcase a nice flashy, glossy look.

There you have it.  If you got a better name for this fly, let me know.

Someone once told me,  "if you really want to get good at fly tying.  Tie for the river  you fish"

Hot Glue Eggs

I overheard a few guys mid-conversation at the local fly shop complaining about the current winter fishing conditions.

“Yeah, you can still catch fish on that river this time of year, if you’re willing to fish with that kind of stuff.”

As I picked up a box of size 10 scud hooks, I knew exactly what kind of stuff they were talking about, egg patterns.  I’m not proud. I like eggs, and it just so happens so do trout .  But complaining about what a fish eats is kind of a moot point, especially in the dead of winter.   If a trout ate dryer lent dubbed onto a hook, I’d have bagfuls saved in my laundry room. (Which probably isn’t a bad idea, based on what colors I had to wash that week)

Spinning hot glue on to a hook can make some great, realistic-looking eggs.   It’s also pretty good at producing beadheads.  Sure, egg patterns have their place, maybe not in the middle of a epic salmon fly hatch, but if you can’t be excited about fishing eggs in February, what can you be excited about?

A black Copper John with an egg for a head? It looks delicious

The Zen of Fly-Tying

Sitting in front of a vise can almost be a form of monastic prayer for some fly tiers.   Many find it relaxing, meditative.  The inner voice quietly chanting, “ wrap, whip finish, repeat..”  It can be hours of repetitive motions that calms the mind.  Collecting one’s thoughts, and preparing for those long awaited moments of standing mid-stream.  A peaceful practice of patience that rewards a fisherman with neatly organized rows of freshly tied parachute adams or blue-winged olives.  Almost Zen-like.    But for me, fly-tying feels like a mixture of having O.C.D and the flu.   

At first, the symptoms start off small, usually with tiny midges, stuff that doesn’t take too much effort or material to tie.  Then it’s on to nymphs and my mind starts to drift, what if I added a leg here? Or oh that looks shiny, I’ll add that on top.    By the time I make it to streamers, it’s a full blown affliction. 

Some nights, as I struggle to fall asleep, my brain keeps imagining  pattern variations and possible materials, like a feverish dream that keeps repeating itself.  And my inner voice shouts “I need more flies.. girdle bugs.. mini-buggers… more streamers,.. I wish I had olive sexi-floss legs….”    It’s compulsive.

*Notice the folded bath mat on the left under the table. The price tag still attached. $12 for a liftetime supply of antron.
Also, it's not hording if you can still walk through the room....

 My fly tying room starts to look like a scene from the movie, A Beautiful Mind,   The one where they find the guy’s backyard shed littered with old maps and circled newspaper headlines amidst a maze of red yarn stretched wall to wall.   The audience has the heart-breaking but yet sympathetic reaction of, “..his condition has gotten worse..”
     I say fly tying room because it started off as a desk.  But five patterns in, and a dozen patches of deer hair, marabou, and shiny strips of streamer material scattered across the table, my mess has overflowed on to the floor.  My neatly organized boxes and bins strewn throughout the room like a little kid’s Lego collection.   And the only feeling I have when I finish a fly is a impulsive need to fish it immediately.  I want to know what it looks like underwater.  How it acts.  But I can’t.  Its 3 ‘o clock and I’m still wearing my pajamas pants.  And the nearest cold water stream is six hours away.  The pot of extra strength coffee doesn’t help either.  But as with most fevers, this will pass.  And I won’t tie again until mid-season, when I really need it.  I’ll clean up my caffeine-fueled frenzy of feathers and organize my freshly tied patterns in neat little rows.  But I know, next spring, when the pine pollen sticks the windshield of the car,  I’ll start thinking.. I need midges..