Lake Agnes Grayling

I don't find lake fishing particularly interesting but when I was told about an isolated lake teeming with grayling my interest was aroused. When I was told all I'd need was a bunch of dry flies to catch the grayling, I was sold. What I wasn't told was that to get to the lake a mountain needed to be climbed first! 

The hike to Lake Agnes in the Pioneer mountain range is only about a mile and half from the nearest road, but all of it is up a steep mountainside, ascending 1,000 feet. For geographical context, the lake's waters tumble down the mountainside and travel a short distance, eventually discharging into the Big Hole River.

I sweated and felt as though my lungs were going to burst. I kept to a similar, slow pace as a young couple a little way behind me and it was funny to hear them bickering. He'd probably sold a wonderful, perhaps even romantic, day out at a lake to her but also forgot to mention the mountain standing in the way. I sat down to take a rest - one of many - and as the couple passed me the girl looked at me and whispered, 'I think I'm going to die'. Sympathetically I said 'yep, this hill's a bitch' and meant every word of it.

When I finally reached the crest and emerged through the pine trees into sunlight, I realised in an instant that the hike had been worthwhile for the view alone. Even the couple seemed to have patched things up, their argument long forgotten. In a shallow depression atop the mountain, completely surrounded by pine trees and sandy beaches was a clear lake. I could see grayling chasing each other in the shallows and several even rose to take flies from the surface. No pain, no gain. It also helped being smug in the knowledge that the hike back out was all downhill.

I walked to the opposite end of the lake, to the inlet of its largest feeder stream where several grayling were rising in the shallows.

I cast out a small black CDC pattern and within seconds the fly was attacked. I missed the take and flicked out the fly once again, giving the line a few rapid false casts to dry the fly, and as it settled on the water it was taken again. This time I managed to set the hook and after a brisk and energetic fight I held my first lake grayling in my hands. 

Apparently the lake dwelling form of Montana's grayling are genetically distinct from the fluvial variety. They look the same though. They are a good looking fish when they flare out their colourful dorsal fins. The European grayling I have caught in the rivers and streams of Wales and England have red and purple spotted dorsal fins. These grayling had dorsal fins the colour of lapis lazuli with iridescent turquoise spots.  Pink and turquoise stripes adorned their beautiful pelvic fins.

Grayling attacked my dry fly eagerly. If nothing happened immediately upon the fly landing on the water, I'd let it drift with the wind and soon enough - virtually every time - a grayling would find it and take it. Only about one in every four strikes was successful though. It's the kind of place that if you wanted to (and could set aside the boredom that must surely set in) you could easily catch a hundred fish in a day. Even though I only used two CDC patterns I also got the sense that almost any dry fly would work on these grayling too. These fish were pretty naïve. Or desperately starved of food in the lake. 

I fished for a couple of hours, took lots of photos, explored the lake shore and inlet streams and caught about 12 grayling. The best was about 13 inches long and some were as small as 5 inches.

It was a fun day (only after I climbed the mountain and had a chance to catch my breath) and offered a nice change from fishing rivers.