“The water is high; must be generating at the dam.” These words might be the bane of a long anticipated fishing trip. But it doesn’t have to go that way. As they say in the sea, “you can’t change the direction of the wind, but you can change the direction of your sail”. Time to go against the grain.

You would think it is true that trout face upstream. However, what is really true is that they almost always face into the current. Sometimes the current goes backwards. So when the water goes against the grain, so must your presentation.

Dan and I planned our escape for Friday after work and headed northeast. We arrived at the river during the night; so we set up our tent as quietly as possible. Trying not to wake our fellow campers, we even pounded the tent stakes with firewood to avoid the noise of the hammer. In the morning, we found - what we were unable to see in the dark - high fast water tumbling down below the spillway. Not wanting to turn a trout-fishing trip into a hiking and sightseeing tour, we tried to figure out familiar water under unfamiliar conditions.

The last time I had fished this same stretch of river tiny midge dries and droppers were the ticket. An ancient quote repeated by too many fishing writers, “One can never step in the same river twice” certainly came to mind. I took those first steps cautiously considering the roaring rapids. Boldly leaning against the current, I discovered it was roughly wade-able. (I say “roughly”, because of events that I will share in another story. Yep, I got soaked and bounced downstream a bit. Sign up for the newsletter and you’ll get the scoop soon.) The little pocket water grooves and plunge pools I would normally fish were spate with cold aggressive water. The river was LOUD. The rush of water sounded so powerful it drowned out all of nature’s other noises. But - where to fish?

Beginning experimentation with my previously successful rig, I quickly found the tiny dry midges unable to stay on top. They were essentially invisible in the churning water. It’s interesting how an angler tends to stick with the lure or technique from past successes, even though the conditions are absolutely different. Often, success breeds failure. Adapt! Switching to a tan, number 16 Elk Hair Caddis seemed to do the floatation trick. The old standby Pheasant Tail Nymph with a bead head, to get it deep in the water column, was added on five foot of tippet to the caddis’ hook bend. Seemed like a pretty cool fast water rig to me. I started throwing the rig upstream and “letting it ride” the wave of fast water - like an elk haired surfer. Dropping my rod tip to stretch out the drift, I’d slowly lift the rig at the end. Then I’d launch it back up to start it again. Not a thing. I kept trying this deeper version of my typical technique. Nothing. Nada. Empty set. I tried it again in the many runs and frantic flows around me. I moved upstream. Still nothing.

Where are the fish? Hmmm, if I WERE A FISH, I’d get darn tired of fighting this swift current - I was thinking. Then I noticed something very telling. I had overcast on a slick run. My fly held momentarily in the soft water beyond the seam before the belly of the line jerked it downstream. I small trout took a swirl at my fly as it pulled away. Okay, now we’re on to something. Aha! Let’s try that again drag free. Rod tip high to make sure that it stays put in the slow water. Let it swirl around in this tricky water. Fish on! A jazzy little brown with nice coloration fought bigger-than-his-britches in the tough current. I smiled as I wet my hand to release him. Caught him on the nymph. Cool. As my father says, repeating the A Team, “I love it when a plan comes together!”

In the next hour I caught seven more trout. All, but one, were browns with a saucy little rainbow in there for good measure. The biggest of the browns was all of twelve inches. Not big fish. Beautiful fish. Some I caught on the dry and most I caught on the nymph. All were caught going upstream. Yes, upstream. The little eddies behind boulders and along points with cutouts at streamside created water that was going the wrong way - going against the grain. It took a delicate cast, and even more line control to hit these hot spots. But each good cast was rewarded with some kind of action. A swirl or a movement of a fish, a near miss, or a rise told the story of trout stacked up in this same type of flow.

I am convinced that the right fly had nothing to do with catching these fish. The water is so fast that fish typically had only milliseconds to glimpse it anyway. I do know though that the PRESENTATION was the critical factor. Art Lee described it this way, “No fly is right unless it’s fished correctly.” On that point I completely agree. We spend a lot of time, money, and effort trying to match the hatch. But in water this fast, the key is going against the grain.

Scott is a lead editor and contributor to SouthwestSportsman.com, a website dedicated to the enjoyment of the Great American Outdoors.

Travel on the open road in an RV or motorhome can be very inexpensive to be sure, but there are some costs associated with it though. For those that travel on a budget, the challenge is to minimize those costs as much as possible. One way to really keep costs down is to carefully select the places that you choose to stay overnight.

There are several ways to find low-cost and even no cost places to stay in your RV travels, and here are some tips that you can use to help lower your overall camping expenses.

If you stay in a full-service RV park or campground you can expect to pay top dollar for everything that they offer, especially if it is conveniently located to a large city and a major highway. You can realize real savings though if you choose to stay instead at parks that have less hookups and facilities, or are located farther out in the country, off the beaten path. Sometimes the daily rates can be considerably lower at these types of campgrounds, so before you come into an area, use a campground directory like Trailer Life or Woodall’s to help you find those RV park sites that have lowered rates, instead of the most popular campgrounds that have easy access.

For even lower nightly rates, consider staying in a state park or recreation area. Quite often you can get a spot here that will be very inexpensive although you probably won’t find much in the way of hookups beyond just the basics, and that’s OK if your primary goal is just to save money at this point.

If you really want to save the most money though, consider staying for free on federal BLM(Bureau of Land Management) land, or in a national park. If there is no charge at all, you can expect no hookups and amenities at all, but if your RV or motorhome is equipped with solar panels and has an efficient power system you may be able to stay for several days here at minimal cost to you.

Two things to keep in mind about staying in free federal campgrounds though is that the roads that you must travel to access them can be difficult for some RVs, so you will need to check beforehand to make sure that your motorhome can safely negotiate the trip, and also that national parks can often be very crowded, especially if it’s a top rated park in the height of vacation season.

For low-cost and no-cost overnight stays you will need to spend more time and research as such accommodations are not easily and readily available. But if you plan your travels carefully and well in advance you can lower your RVing costs considerably.

I am not a misanthrope but I do shun the company of people when it comes to fly fishing. When I have a stream to myself, I become more at ease, more aware of my surroundings, and open to nature’s bounty. I am not so busy chatting about hatches, competing for water, or enviously eyeing the skillful ease of a fellow angler’s cast. One downside is that there is generally no one present to confirm or deny the size and number of trout I catch and release on any given day. Even worse, when something truly incredible happens no one is there to verify it. However, this is a small sacrifice for the pleasure such experiences in solitude brings.

When I am on a stream solo, extraordinary things happen. One experience I will never forget occurred while I was fishing a stream near my home in the West Kootenays of Southern British Columbia. This particular day in July was like most of our summer days: scorching. There was no breeze, no clouds, no shade, only the merciless weight of the sun. Thankfully, I was waist deep in the cool, forgiving river, casting my fly toward a deep depression sunk into the opposite bank that created a bit of a back eddy. The fly settled a few feet upstream of the eddy but the current soon floated it into the seam. It happened so fast - the splash, the set, the trout hooked, played, and gently released - a nice sixteen inch rainbow.

As I continued working the water, casually casting into the riffles and holes, my eye caught a flicker of something in the air. Turning quickly to my right, I focused my gaze on the stunning, acrobatic convulsions of a butterfly. The vibrant purple wings with orange sun-burst tips and white borders, suggested a Lorquins Admiral. It dipped and fluttered through the air until it settled on a withered log at the edge of the stream. I saw another, an exact replica, take wing and stumble drunkenly over the water. It was followed by the first. Then another took off from a distant branch, which was followed by another from a white stone, and another, and another and another.

They appeared out of nowhere and soon the air filled with hundreds of flickering, fluttering butterflies, a sunlit, gleaming cloud of moving, expanding purple space. They filled the sky and danced as though engaged in some secret papilonian ritual. I stood frozen, heart pounding, as my breathing quickened. The multitude of butterflies, now a shimmering, surreal entity, encircled me, enveloped me in a mystical whirlwind; then lanquidly floated high above, stopped and hovered as though poised on some mysterious looming precipice, then as one fluid mass, tumbled off like air-born rapids down the river valley and into the steep canyon.

I remained motionless for a long time after. I kept peering down into the canyon in hopes that the butterflies would emerge for an encore. My breathing slowly returned to normal but a strange, nervous tremor still lay deep in my stomach. A slight breeze began to stir, and the sun dipped low over the western hills, taking much of the oppressive heat with it. Suddenly off the water, a large mayfly emerged. I watched as another alighted on the stream, drifting along on its current only to be swallowed up in a fatal splash. I couldn’t pass up a good Ephemerella grandis hatch. I tied on a red quill dun and cast into the ebbing light, the sound of butterfly wings still echoing in my head.

It was a sublime moment and though the experience may seem incidental to the fishing, I could not have witnessed it had I not gone fly fishing. Wherever and whenever I go, whether alone or with others, it is for the simple pleasure of being out on the water amidst the wonders of the natural world, seeking fish, and, if truly fortunate, finding butterflies.

Jim Bailey and his wife Natasha live in the west Kootenays of British Columbia, Canada, where they fly fish and are regular contributors to publications such as BC Outdoors and Canadian Fly Fisher Magazines. Jim also has his own website http://www.fly-fishing-british-columbia.com that shows his visitors the exciting fly fishing opportunities that wait for them in British Columbia.