Finding Lake Echo

There isn’t much shallow water on Lake Echo, but there is some, and I am drawn to it. It’s a moth-to-flame kind of thing, but on the right day I expect to see fish off the bow and today, right over the velvet green weed beds, I saw a trout and put a Red Tag over it. The fish came to the fly and turned away after a good look.

I continued to scan the water and manoeuvred the boat further into the shallows on the edge of a drowned stand of timber, and saw another cruiser. The trout grabbed the fly this time and took off under the boat. I keep the Minn Kota controls on my wrist and poked the controls in a panic, swinging the boat around too fast. The dog bounced around madly when the trout cleared the water, and in the chaos I gained control and landed a spanking wild brown. This kind of fly fishing — dog, wife, trout and total pandemonium is how I roll, and it’s a fun way to fish.

Lake Echo is a considerable body of water. It was a natural lake and an important area for the First Nations people who traversed through the high country for thousands of years. Hydro dammed the lake in 1956 and raised the water level to what we see today. The lake sits at an altitude of 846 metres and covers 407 hectares at full supply level.

As I said, it’s big, and it’s deep. Lake Echo has its devotees, but it’s mostly what I term ‘off-radar’. In other words, it doesn’t get busy. In fact, on some days it is easy to think that there isn’t another angler on the lake, and there is a fair chance that that’s the case.

FISHING THE BAYS

Lake Echo is best accessed by boat. There are ways to get to certain spots with a high clearance four-wheel drive, but drivers should be prepared for some gnarly tracks and have recovery gear if they get stuck. Brocks Bay on the south-eastern corner of the lake is reasonably easy to access and, when filling, offers some wonderful early-season fly fishing. Tailing trout feature along the shore and will forage about earnestly throughout the day, but early morning and evening are best, which is hardly surprising.

When the sun gets up, and a breeze follows, don’t be in a hurry to pack up and head home. Often the breeze will streak along the banks, sweeping in midges and other insects, and I’ve caught trout a few centimetres off the edge. Polaroiding is possible, but there are better places on the lake for this discipline. Low light seems to offer better chances as the trout move into the shallows in good numbers, but the lake needs to be high and rising for the best results.

There are other bays and shallow areas at the top of the lake — Large Bay, Teal Bay and Broken Bay — which offer a bit of everything. Early season tailing fish can be brilliant as they get way up into the shallows and forage amongst the flooded tea tree, gutters and depressions. It’s traditional wet fly fishing, stripping Fur Flies or Buggers along the bank, or targeting individual tailing fish — which is my favourite — with the usual early season tactics and flies such as a Possum Emerger, Stick Caddis, Black and Peacock Spider, Woolly Worm or Brown Nymph as good as any patterns around.

THE EASTERN SHORE

Back with the pandemonium crew again, and my typical modus operandi is to putter out, look for slicks and froth lines and if nothing is going on, then head to a shallow bay to sight-fish for cruising trout. As the sun rises and the day warms, I’ll look for a drift and work a bank. I don’t have a predetermined plan. I let the wind dictate the terms. Still, I do tend to fish this lake in a northerly as it means the lake’s northern end isn’t as rough, and the warmth associated with the north wind might mean terrestrials — gum beetles in particular, and jassids on balmy autumn days — but there are no guarantees. It is a tough lake so don’t expect heavy bags.

Today the froth lines were bare, so I continued to putter to my favourite beach. A fish cruised the shallows and took a Red Tag happily, then thrashed about, making Cardhu prance on his tippy-toes in excitement. The dog was clipped into his harness and couldn’t do much damage other than get tangled in loose fly line.

This fish was like all Lake Echo browns, hard fighting and belligerent, and it took a few moments to net it — a solid three-pounder. I released the fish and let the wind push us out into deeper water, and we drifted the eastern shore right under the whoosh of the Cattle Hill wind turbines. I used the electric motor to keep the drift in the zone that looked fishy — drop-offs, drowned trees and gravel bays. A few small ones came to the single fly — a mix of wild rainbows and browns — but none were as big as my first fish.

There was enough action to make the day pass pleasantly. I’d seen some fish along the bank and got one. It was chunky and pretty and nearly as big as my first trout. The wind put us on the outer edge of the drowned timber, and the water was deeper. Sharon and I chatted as we drifted, me daydreaming in between. Then a big shape appeared from the depths and sat under the Red Tag, then its big white triangle mouth opened and closed down on the fly, and when I tightened up, it was pandemonium yet again. The fish charged off and went deep. We drifted at a cracking pace — us going one way, the trout the other — and the line peeled from the reel quickly. I hit the lecky again and followed the fish, then got upwind of the trout and fought it to the net. It was a dark pewter brownie that went a touch over four pounds.

WIND LANES AND FROTH LINES

It was a glistening blue autumn morning, the kind of weather that anglers can wait a long time for. It pays not to ruin your chances on days like these, as the next good one might be the following season. We puttered out from the boat ramp and found a slick snaking out of Large Bay. There were no bugs in it and, not surprisingly, no trout.

We moved on and continued to search the froth lines looking for insects and trout. It took a while, and then we found some midges in a two-metre wide smooth patch towards the middle of the bay. Some subtle swirls were moving up the slick, but the trout were covert in nature. I had on an all-black Bob’s Bits and put the fly where I hoped the trout were concentrated, right where the mirror and ripple met. Another rise, another cast, another nothing, and the morning went on like this until I tied on a chubby rubber-legged beetle and picked up a lovely brown on the next cast. Sometimes offering something different works. A Snickers bar in amongst all the oysters can do damage.

Early morning slicks after a night with a gentle wind can be good, particularly if the breeze has been consistent over a reasonable period. The critical ingredient is insects. Even as the sun gets up, the trout may still feed as long as the breeze is soft and reasonably consistent. If the wind gets strong, the slick will split and break up. If the windlane holds together, however, and still has insects, there is no point in moving on as opportunities will present themselves throughout the drift, which, in theory at least, might last most of the day. Good times can be had over a long period of fishing the one lane, but it depends on the wind and the insects. It’s an intriguing way to fly fish and totally captivating simply because it’s so dynamic.

SHARKS IN THE WAVES

Fishing the waves is different from slicks, at least how I do it, but I’m still working on my approach and method. To date, it’s been a fair bit of trial and error and seems to be dependent on ‘beetlemania’ — it needs warm weather and gum beetles, but not too many.

I fished Lake Echo with Nick Blomholf on a hot summer’s day when the top of the lake was covered in thousands of gum beetles, and we never saw a single rise. The ‘too much is a bad thing’ theory was on display with all the other hypotheses to be considered — too many, too hard to digest, too hard to pass (beetle bum), eating beetles under the surface, sick of the damn things, who knows? A steady spattering of beetles over a few hours is better.

This style of fly fishing is a later-in-the-day option, when it’s normally at its hottest and windiest and a lower sun makes the waves light up. I employ similar techniques and methods to how I’ve fished for sharks on the Great Lake — zig-zag the waves looking for olive gold shapes in the chop and put a big terrestrial in front of them.

The fly could be a big Royal Wulff, Stimulator, Black Cricket, Trude, Gum Beetle, Red Tag or Chernobyl Ant. Anything that is big and buggy — the fly needs to have a decent footprint in the slop. Two flies can work under these conditions, with one of the above-mentioned patterns used with a metre of 4x tied off the bend and a small Gum Beetle on the point. The theory is that the big fly drags the fish, and the small one catches them — and it works.

FISHING THE STICKS

Lake Echo has a lot of drowned timber, both standing and piled up on some sections of the shore, notably Brocks Bay. This is habitat for insects, tadpoles and minnows, but it also provides cover for the trout. In other words, it’s a hot spot.

There is no great secret to fishing the sticks other than looking for rising fish in the quiet corners where there may be an accumulation of insects, or prospecting with a good searching dry or wet fly. Even on nothing days, anglers will likely find a catchable, quiet sipper. Mudeye migrations are another possibility, and given the number of shucks on the timber, the migrations must be substantial. Fishing the timber is always a good fallback position on quiet days, as there is usually a good trout lurking somewhere.

OTHER ODDITIES

Lake Echo can be intimidating. Large bodies of water that, at first glance, seem barren and impossible need to be broken down into smaller pieces. However, it is still a very challenging body of water to fish. When all the usual methods fail, anglers may need to invent something. Try a team of dries or a team of wets if that’s your thing. Move around and find the fish, or at least try to imagine where they will be.

I tend to go deep, and big. A full sinking line and a big minnow pattern can pull some rather big trout. Each cast, each count down, and each retrieve is full of anticipation — will the rod be jarred from my grip this time? It’s a long shot, but it has produced some gorgeous browns.

Some days, I head out to try something different simply because it’s fun.

It has taken me some time to find Lake Echo. It’s off-radar status and sense of isolation and solitude give it great value. I’m still working things out, but I know I am always in for a good day, some experimentation and just a touch of adventure when I fish Lake Echo.