It was an invitation that had been several years in my fulfilling. Dave Graebel had graciously invited me to fish his King Creek Ranch in Colorado a number of times, but speaking engagements, writing assignments, and other work related projects had blocked my way, until now. Nancy and I had a clear spot on the calendar this time, and we excitedly loaded the motor home in preparation for the trip west.

The weather cooperated, and we arrived without incident. The next morning saw Dave and me rigging our rods as Nancy and Dave’s wife, Linda, drove off for other pursuits, leaving us to “sus out” the trout under an overcast sky. Everything was pointing to a great morning’s fishing: the air was warm, the clouds threatened rain but couldn’t make good on the threat, and the air was alive with midges. Sure enough, the fish were actively feeding when we entered the water just above the canyon.

“We’ll fish up to the wooden bridge,” Dave told me, “And the girls will pick us up at 12:30 for lunch.”

Having never fished this water, all I could offer was “OK.”

Ha! Fish up to the wooden bridge? We only covered three pools before it was time to hike all the way up to the bridge. The fish literally threw themselves on our flies with absolutely wild abandon. Dave loves the dry fly, although he is not adverse to fishing nymphs, buggers, or other such fare. It was his morning. Fish were rising everywhere, and I spotted while Dave cast. While he played his fish, I’d toss a hopper and dropper up into the pool and take one on the dropped bead head Prince Nymph, and occasionally on the hopper. All fish tales aside, we collected well over 50 nice bows and browns by the arranged rendezvous time. We were gushing with tales of fish won and lost when Nancy and Linda arrived.

And then, while we were lunching at Bison Hall, the weather turned remarkable beautiful. Clean mountain air, puffy cumulus, and a bright sun greeted us on the veranda as we slipped back into our waders for the afternoon session. It would be a different river. The conditions of the morning, which called both bugs and fish to activity, had passed, and the day was now far less hospitable to us. The fish were deep, and not at all impressed by dry flies. True, a few holding along the shadowy edges or back under the overhanging grasses still watched the surface, and I spotted them for Dave, but the bellies of the pools were as flat as the proverbial griddle.

I worked the deep waters of the pool centers with the hopper and dropper and got only an occasional take. I switched to a Styrofoam indicator and dropped nymph to fish a bit deeper. On one of my casts, I noted a nice rainbow race up out of the depths and look as the indicator. Almost immediately as it descended, the indicator shot under, and I had the fish on the nymph. Hmmmm. I tried tossing the indicator on the water really hard several times, but got nothing. Then I decided to try popping it.

I’d cast up into the belly of the pool, allow the fly to settle, and then pop the indicator. The round Styrofoam indicator jumped and skated a bit; its popping more of a slash on the surface rather than the “glug” I was looking for. I switched to a two-inch long hunk of indicator yarn tied in at its center and dressed it heavily with floatant; the nymph hung about two and one-half feet below the yarn. It was exactly what was needed.

The tactic is rather easy. I’d cast, allow time for the nymph to settle, and then slowly draw the indicator across the surface—just fast enough to make a “V” wake. Allowing time for the nymph to settle, I’d then repeat the draw. If the fish were not interested, then I’d jerk the indicator hard enough to make it pop, like a bass bug or popper. I wanted an audible sound. After a couple of pops, I’d allow the nymph to settle. The trout loved it. They’d take the nymph both on the pop or while the fly was settling after the pop. Several times I started to pop the indicator only to find myself fast to a fish.

I tried the popping tactic with a hopper on top, too, figuring maybe I’d get a fish to take it rather than the nymph, but in the bright light, they much preferred to stay deep and eat the nymph. So, I finally just went with the indicator yarn. For the next two days, it was the absolute ticket. Pools that seemed dead came instantly to life, giving up fish after fish to the nymph. Yes, I tried fishing the fly merely dead drift on the indicator, but it was lack-luster fishing compared to the popping indicator tactic.

Nancy had a chance to fish on the third morning, and the fish were most cooperative, taking the nymph without the need to pop the indicator. Later that day the strong sun put the fish deep, and they just wouldn’t respond to the dry fly with any regularity, but they certainly took the nymph under the popping indicator. Dave used a hopper on top, but although several fish hit it strongly, they didn’t stay stuck. The nymph under the popping hopper won the day for Dave, too.

Dave with a fine brown that took a dry on the first morning.

Nancy took fish without the need of the popping indicator.

"My what a loud noise your indicator is making, Ms. fly fisher." "The better to catch you. my dear."

Dave quickly grasped the popping indicator tactic and used it with a hopper on top

Just one of many bows and browns that ate a nymph fished under a popping indicator.