December

The real cold weather is settling in and while it is long past due, it still a of harsh reality. We are now the furthest from decent fishing we will be all year. I have not been out in a long time due to work and family loss, so I guess this just wasn't the year to fish (there will be others). I now have time to reflect on the few days out and improving my skills & understanding of the rivers and the fish. Winter is the time to spend fishing in books (it is the 2nd best kind of fishing). So I now turn to Wright, Lyons, Best, Gerich, LaBranch, Seikes, and on and on...

2006 witnessed my best day (by fish landed & released count), the best fish ever in fast water, a large fish in fast water which bent the hook but still it held. There was an on demand fall brookie and the smallest fish ever landed and yes a few shutouts (but less & less as the years progress) and on and on...

You have to get over the time not spent on the water and things not done and focus on the brace of fish landed from above on a 10' wide stream in a tunnel of alders on a pool which had only witnessed rises & impossible to cast to fish. A 22" bow in a brook which only exists for 2-3 miles above the ground's surface. The new brook which should not have fish but did, a day spent on posted water (courtesy of the owner), the fish in the flood plain, the bugs, the bites, the bats, the slips / falls and the burns. I think about the 5th consecutive year on a nothing (to anyone else) Northern Brook in the pool below the cascade where the river was so high i could not approach let alone fish (but i did).

I need to focus on the not 1 but at least 3 new access points to a river i have been to so many times and thought was fully covered.  I recall standing several feet below the longest beaver dam in the ADK's (100++ yards wide and over 3' above the trail), as i passed all i could think about was the Indiana Jones movies and held my breath while awaiting the inevitable break of the dam and the subsequent cascading of water as i passed below the water line along the trail.

There was more, so much more, but so too is there is less, in the end this was a good year for fish & for fishing. Still... I can't wait until next year...

The Gorge

The finest gorge in the state will soon close to vehicular traffic. It's rubble shrew tank trap of a roadway will be converted to a pedestrian only walk way, which will no doubt address the erosion problem (not to mention the chipped tooth / broken back from the  drive down this highway to hell)... I guess i understand this course rather than building a real road although it means harder longer hikes for fisherman and really no difference for bikes or walkers. It does mean being away from your gear (food / drink) on those hot days, but ok progress marches on…

You would think I would head there for a "last fix" before the road was closed (yes I am that lazy) but I assume that everyone else gets the same news I do –via the net-. So ever the contrarian, I headed off a different way to seek out new water (it was about 15 miles further than my old home water and about the same distance as the gorge).  The area is spectacular with soaring cliffs and fall foliage in full bloom.  I found this place on the maps about 2 years ago but could not see how the river was fed in the summer. In any case it was to far off the track to be of value otherwise someone would have mentioned it by now.

Although there is one formal parking at either end of the short stretch of water (it is only a few miles) I try to steer clear of lots for many reasons. Mostly b/c I was driving to fast to make the turn on the first one, and the 2nd was packed (which generally means to many folks on the water or worse hikers who ask question like "wotcha dooin?" and the old stand by "any luck?". Either way I found a small pull out which could have been a spot and suited up. It was cold & grey & should have been perfect but for most of the day I went without a bump and I only saw one fish. But this was the finest freestone water I had been on south of the WB of the Ausable.

All this was ok, b/c for the most part I was fishing well and alone for most of the day.

At one point after over an hour of working down into one major cascade I found a baiter paralleling me on the road and he set up where I was obliviously working down to. I uncharacteristically “roughed him off” with aggressive casting and after a few moments he got the idea. Although I actually felt bad (he was technically there first). All the water i fished was first rate but no fish (well 2 very large sunnies). Neither of us connected with anything in this idealic spillway and although he left, he later returned I thought it was bad karma on my part apologized and he actually felt bad that he "road hopped" me to the spot I was clearly going for (so they do know we are there?).

On my last run of the day, I was heading back down through some rough water, with deep fast pockets and long tail out at the bottom. I resorted to my gaudiest flashy sparkle green woolly bugger which has proven it self so many times I wish I had bought a few more… In any case I got hung up as I did about 20 times earlier that day only in this case the hang up eventually moved. Now granted it has been a while since I fished for decent sized, powerful autumn fish, but this was something else. It was not spooked or felt the need to flight  or rush away; in fact at first I thought it might be a otter or another creature (but not a fish with this kind of pull). The train then took off downstream and given the difficulty in wading and the frailty of old 5 year old 5x tippet (man I am a cheep bastard), I did not think I could afford to not to at least start to work my way down stream JIC (just in case), as there was no way to horse him back up to my position.

This was an unusual fish, first she never broke the surface or jumped even once and 2nd it was 15 minutes before I saw even a hint of a dorsal tip. It was more than 20 minutes before I saw the full extent of this fish which by now had taken me to the flatter water with a large weed bed on one end where I thought for sure I would loose it.

I have not carried a net for many years I am sure my brain is less concussioned (?) as a result, but in this case it was clear I would not be able to lift this fish from the water by the "gossamer string" I had him on. I worked the fish back & forth away from the weeds and into the one fast corner hoping to tire it. After about 25 minutes what came to hand was far & away the largest rainbow trout I have taken in NJ this or any other year. But the amazing thing besides the size & girth was its fins, they were “all” perfect; this was not a hatchery fish 4, or even 5 or 6 years ago. There must be an underground route from from he aquafier from which this fish emerged for a fall feed. I swear it was 23”, but after the fight it was too spent for me to revive and I took my only fish of the year home to eat. I would have been upset if I witnessed some else take a fish this size back to his car but, well…

By the time I got him home it only taped out at 22.5”, I actually think it shrunk a bit on drive home. It was tough to fillet a fish this size, but it was a delicious fresh rainbow trout.

Oh... did I mention, all this was on a 3wt?

There is still time before the leaves fill the streams, so grab your rod and hit the water, you can sleep over the winter.

Slappin Wooley Buggers

If you want to catch trout you need a delicate presentation / you need to be careful wading / you need to have drag free floats / you can't repeatedly cast over skittish fish & every thing needs to look natural...

Bull -

 

When the season is right, just grab a bugger and slap it just above the tail of any pool or across the stream in almost any rock grotto (outcrop) and bang, fish on... In the next few weeks as the days shorten the fish will be very aggressive and on the feed, so get em' while they are hot. But bring your waders b/c unfortunately it seems that here in the northeast at least, the season has ended for wet wading (it is just to numbing).

 

Another hot spot is the base of a waterfall or decent cascade. Try to get the bugger (muddler) as close to the falls (the churn) as possible. Let the fly swing into the deepest part of the pool, a steady slow swing should do it. I caught one of the best brookie of the year this past weekend, with a mouth that could eat an apple and all the fall color you could want.

The single biggest square tail i have ever taken was at this time of year (not with a bugger but with a muddler). I slapped the most skittish pool and watched this goliath rise, look and then pass on my fly. Generally once this occurs your chances reduce to about zero over the next few casts but on the 3rd pass he was alert and followed the fly and with a pounce was on it. The water was low & clear so i watched the entire drama unfold and once hooked i naturally assumed i would never be able to hold or land such a fish so the pressure was off me and in time he came to hand. Imposable size for such water and that he could not break me off or get away made this all the more magic.

For a short while about 6 seconds i thought about keeping him for dinner or even mounting him but then realized he / she? would be the main source of new fish in this entire river providing 10 or 100 times as many eggs as a more  typical brookie and it was really not that hard to let her go. I do wish i had a camera b/c no one would believe this was a native from this water.

Get out of here & go fishing...

Fly Boxes

My first tackle box had a flip up handle which could be held fairly upright under my bike handlebar along with my rod. It held lots of stuff, mostly bobbers & lead weights, snelled hooks and a small knife along with some marbles and even an odd army figure.

As i progressed my aunt & uncle bought me a fiberglass Sears set up (Zebco i think?) it had a closed bail and it worked most of the time. I split my time between a small pond & a large one. The small one was Thomas Paine's home pond, it was shallow and mostly filled with sunnies or the occasional cat fish, turtle or bass.

I would dig up some worms and peddle down with a furry. The fishing was always good (or it just seems that way in hindsight). I love sunnies b/c they are eager willing fish and a good fight for the size.

Today fly boxes are a thing of beauty (& the associated costs). I have one i generally fish and one that never leaves the house. I have one that when i open it i just can't bear to take any flies out as they all look perfect as they are in their rows & by colors. I have a 6 pane Whitley (a really small box) which is perfect for a summer shirt and several w/ rubber gaskets all of which are plastic boxes.

One that predates most is an old Orvis plastic with ripple foam insert, this one was damaged by a plastic worm left on top of it which melted into the plastic (this seems to happen a lot, does anyone know what this is all about?). I don't recall buying or how i got this Orvis box, it held old (really old) traditional flies, like Parma Belle and other bright gaudy flies which I did not initially fish and now thankfully have about a dozen left which i just look at once in a while. Hard to believe fish would ever go for some of these but that is how it was...

I have 2 other old (50+ year old) flies one is a Hornberg in the original package from a company in Wisconsin and the other is the largest fly i have ever seen, It looks like a modern tan Wulff dry fly but the hackle could easily hide a silver dollar. The hook is about a 2 or a 4 & i don't know if it would actually float but i guess i can't really risk loosing it.

Fran Betters once scolded me (well he recommended) that you not buy flies to look at, they are meant to be used in (or on) the water only & i think this is good advise but sometimes i just like to watch...

3 Wt's are Fun

My friends all fish 5 or 6 wt rods. Generally they use 8 1/2 or 9 footers and i guess if you are on big water, chasing big fish or are throwing 60' of line this makes sense. But this seems like a lot or rod for a 6-12" and once in a while even up to a 16" fish which is where I spend much of my time. Lately i am more focused on small water; typically this means a 3wt either my 8.4 for open water where casting is easy although not generally not more than 25 or 30'. I also have a 3 wt 5' (shortie) J.P. Ross that i love for small, tight "cripple creek water". People say you can't cast a 5' rod but like anything it just takes a bit of time. 

I call anything where tree branches & bushes scratch both my cheeks as I move up stream a cripple creek. At the head or tail of most any pool you can simply step over a few rocks and move from one bank to the far side. Generally there is nothing more than an 8 or 9" fish in these waters but a good day brings a 11-12" and i have caught em up to 16 in these waters. In here you can go a whole day without ever seeing another person. I think this has more meaning to someone like me who works with 50 folks a day and literally passed through 10s of thousands every day. I enjoy going a whole day with out a word or the necessities of polite conversation and while a 7" rainbow or brookie might not be worth mentioning at the club (or in print) it sure has made for good memories. Besides with all the snakes, bears, deer, beaver, otters, bats, not to mention the chipmunks, and frogs i have had more than my fair share of heart racing excitement.

One reason to choose a lighter weight rod is that a 8" fish on a 3 wt = a 15" on a 5 wt or a 18" on a 6 wt and if it is all relative than i guess i am doing ok. Also most places i fish do not have a trail or even a rough fisherman's path, i spend entire days bushwhacking through some rough ground and a bigger rod either gets in the way, breaks or needs to be broken down (which i only do at the end of the day and not even then sometimes). Lastly i love to be able to "clear" a tangle in the tip while holding the butt and I just can't do that on a 7' or 9' rod.

It is true you can't cast far with a 5' rod, but far is a relative thing. When most pools are a 6' to 15' across far can be the leader or the leader + a few feet of line. It is more a game of flipping than casting and stealth trumps a smooth stroke. I am most successful when i  stay out of the trees.

Ok so what can't it do? Well you can forget about hi-sticking (nymphing) unless you are atop a rock overhanging the water and if you manage to shimmy up a large erratic without your rod or reel or some jingling object from your vest clanking against the rock and spoiling the pool you’re a better man than me. What else? Well when you do hit the 30' pool you can't roll cast to the tongue (that is even if you could chain saw a path over head for the cast to unroll in).

Aside from these i think i will stick with my shortie for small water and pack the 5 wt just in case i find big open water.

1st post summer hurricane rain

You need to head out as soon after the debris and fallen trees have been cleared as you can.

The 1st post summer hurricane rain is really the start of the fall season. Water levels rise and the temps fall from the terminal levels of summer. The big rivers are drains for the mountains so give them a few days to clear to a safe level. The best bet is to find small water a day after the storm passes. Typically the next day the water is falling (generally good fishing) and always best sheltered from the wind which invariably follows these storms.

I have written about “known pockets”, the trick here is not to fish those but instead to re-learn or explore anew the water you thought you knew & understood. This weekend was such a weekend. I have fished it to the point where I know where and even how many / how big the fish will be.

Casting as good as I ever do (not that great) but for me solid pinpoint casts. Every known pocket was now wrong or empty or worse still all the fish were dead from this drought plagued toxic summer. I fished up to my favorite pool where I know ever rock and branch and from the car up but had only raised one small fish. I thought for a moment if these fish survived from the ice age till now they were likely still here just not where they were supposed to be. Ok time to improvise…

I tied on an Ausable Wulff and went back to work – in the past on small water I fish upstream and then hike home. Today I would fish only the larger pools and the impossible root ball flushes I always bypassed due to never having taken a fish in promising spots.

knew this would be a day to remember when I approached the heavily canopied section which I often see fish rise but can never approach let alone cast to. On this day however I approached from above and fished the dry wet and down jerking it like Fran always preaches (this too never worked before).  I took fish after fish on this pool even though they could plainly see me, even though I was splashing like a young boy with a new “Slip & Slide”. I can not explain this other than to say it worked. I moved down to the most open pool any small water has ever seen, where no man ever took a fish and again down & wet took the first small fish, the best fish of the head of the pool, several small fish along the bank, the best mid-pool funnel fish and several in the tail.

moved downstream with the confidence which can only yield new even greater discovery (or a nasty fall). At the flush rush of one of the best scourers I sat lit a cigar and pitched my fly into the abyss of roots & tangles no sane ff would go. Before I could get a full char glow on my AVO I was fast the best fish of the day. Full bodied silky and firm but with some give (is this about the cigar or the fish?). The fish dove for the rock and snags & I thought wow this guy is getting away, but there is really no where for them to go in small water and finally I held in my hand and raise a perfect jewel of color, symmetry, balance and life. He was back in the water before he knew it and I was moving down confident there could not be another fish in this small pool (without being dinner for the guy I just released).

Since the day was going so well I moved down to the lower water and at the confluence with the “other” brook I fish wet and down into the seam pulling the fly upstream a foot or more ever so often until I was again fast to the best fish of the day / outing. This one was a full 13” and firm and wide. He took me out to tail of the broad pool (~ 25’) and back to hand. Again beautiful this was a good one to close out the day.

On my way out I “found” a new stream I have driven by 20 times and never saw or recognize it for what it was a new undiscovered jewel (next time).

Last thought, when Old Guy says try this, it may or may not work, but store it away for a day when nothing else is working and bring it out you may be astonished at the results. Also fish the pools you never catch fish on (or even see fish on odd days). Both may not make any sense in the world you have come to know but is that not the fun of this game?

Mid July

Johny Cash wrote about hitting town when his throat was dry, in Mid July, but I don't think he ever fished the low waters of today. The odd thing was we have had non stop rain (over 45 days in just the last 2 months). But the water was as low as i have ever seen in July.

When it is hot & low i generally do not fish, i stop on the way up and pick up several bags of ice and then pack them in to drop them one by one in the pools between the rocks. Sometimes i fish out the coarse fish to allow the natives to breath & get enough to eat. Both of these approaches are odd, since these brookies have been here since the ice age (well not these particular ones). They seemed to do fine until i came along - so why is it that man (his ego) thinks he can make it better? Why should i fish out the sunnies to allow the brookies to better thrive? Ice for fish?

The morning broke below 70' which after two 100 degree days this week was a welcome relief. The high today was 80, but there was solid cloud cover and i had a really nice walk. I reached the high point and found a spot to sit, at this point i had raised only 1 fish (missed him) and caught a bass up high that would not have made decent bait for my brothers quarry. I enjoyed a cigar and walked down & out. The air was clean and refreshing and this was a day well spent.

Sometimes it is better to go for a walk with a nice stick and not fish.

Night Fishing or Bloop Bloop

Night Fishing – it’s scary.

First the opaque patches form in the deep woods, but you are comforted by the remaining open whispers of light. As night progresses out come the bats. They swoop and swirl around just enough to get the primitive side you going. There comes a point where the light dims so that even if you are out in the open you must be tied on tight to a good fly or else you will need to use a light which will spoil everything. Fishing (even for trout) can be more course, more haphazard, more viscerally alive in the wild night.

I was upstate on a branch of a good river which was too high to fish but not so high that I was going to turn around and go home. I wandered to an easy shoulder to slip into the shelving edge. I waded in about 4 or 5  feet and cast about, when all of sudden i heard a great Ker-Bloop, Bloop which echoed in the small valley. At fist i thought it was large rocks being hurled into the water from a high a distance. The sound got closer and i started to wonder if i had encroached on private water or if I was the victim of kids (anti fishing kids). The hour was after 10 pm and as i looked around i could see no sign to help ease my mind. I thought about getting out when a huge ker-bloop came with in 10 or 12 feet. I felt fear and the water splash hard. In the gaining moonlight i found the culprit which was not only dropping into the water but ascending up from the water, it looked like an otter out for a night on the town.

This brought both comfort and even greater fear to me. Now at least I knew what was out there, but how do otters feel about man (I had never seen one outside a zoo). It was then I realized we were after the same thing – trout –. & like when confronted with a heron during the day I was locked in competition not with the boys in a blue pickup truck but a true master who sought food (although he did seem like he was having a blast).

In the end we could not compare scores, I had only one fish for the night (a small one at that) and he would not sit still long enough to reveal his count but I would guess he hit his limit.

So go night fishing it is fun and scary but go even if just to enjoy your bed that much more the next night.

There is Nothing up There!

Although crossing his land, he was not angry (i had asked for permission). But why waste a day, fishing a "dead brook" when there was so much productive water around? I told i understand his concern but that once each trip i like to go up a cripple creek and accepted the accompanying scratches bites and falls in the deep woods as a part of the game. I had read the tragedy of Wallace & Hibbard in the "Lure of the Labrador Wild". It inspired me with a passion for exploration and adventure.

As I started up, I looked back he was still shaking his head in a way that let me know i was on  a fools errand. Still off i went first through the thicket by the road and eventually along a fine Birch forest (there was a fire here 30 or so years ago and birch is an establishing or first generation tree), soon in the shade of these white marvels would grow the pines, ciders and spruce which would one day shade out the birches and kill them, and so it goes.

After the birches (1.5 miles) came the mountain pocket water i was hoping / looking for. I rigged up and tied on a yellow humpy #14 and began my bolder to bolder hump up this "waste of a day, dead brook". In the second pool just below the cascade was my first fish and the many that followed would range mostly 5"-7" to a few that went 8 or 9" it was fun and it is always good to reaffirm that these places still exist.

The fishing was easier than the hiking up stream, which is typical for this type of water. As i wound through, over and around some dead falls i thought this is my kind of day. Each pause added 5-10 new bites due to my slower movement upstream.

After another mile the terrain flattened, it felt like i was reaching a saddle or a plateau. Either way the fishing slowed down. All of a sudden i came to a clearing which revealed  a deep bog or a shallow pond both of which are not typically good fishing due to the acid levels. I poked around for a while with no results & switched to a hopper but still nothing.

The i tried something strange, took off my waders and wet wade the water until i found a cold section which i thought or hoped might be filled by an underground spring. there was a bubbling in the distance with a small hump in front of it and as i made my way over i hoped it was a sign. I laid a cast over the hump and into the water it floated for an instant them i thought i saw a ripple (bulge?) heading for it and it was gone. I was fast to something other than a fish. I thought due to its size or weight or the fact that there had been no fish in the last few hundred yards. When it rose i was sure the heat had gotten to me and i was seeing things. This fish was ~19" and in the middle of nowhere. After a short struggle he yielded and came to hand. With all fins intact, this was the largest wild brookie trout i had ever seen. I gently eased it to the trickle where i found the fish and revived it. After its release it just hung there and i would almost swear he turned to smile at me before nosing back into the trickle.

Back at the car the man who cautioned me earlier in the day, started to ask me how it went, but before he did he saw my face and top of my hands were scarred and bitten and just said "sorry guy, i tried to warn you".  

I did not have the heart to tell him any different. Today my hands and face are healed, but i will always remember that fish (and a few along the way), i dont think i will hike up there again but this was a fine day...

West Branch & the 75

I was up there this past week and ended up being quoted in the NY state report on the fishing quality in the new no-kill section. I have taken bigger fish but never a larger fish in the rush of fast deep pocket water. The highlight in the pocket water was a 19" brown struck mid river with all the associated turbulance of fast pocket water. This was a beast who bent the hook to near ruin and failure.

 

I also managed to find and fish 2 new brooks one of which was prolific including a 17"+ brown (had to be stocked). The other one held a Heritage Strain of natives, one which went a full 16" and was the beast this side of Labrador.

 

Finally getting timing down to the point where i could cram all this into my 2-3 solo personal days a year and culminate all this with ending on a flat riffle that holds a ludicrous number of fish on the ride home.

I hit the riffle at 5 pm. The water was barely wadeable, 3 days eirlier I could not even drop in along the margin. I started with a a #12 puffy EHC. Twenty+ fish later i switched to a Picket Fence and went with out a bump for about 6-8 minutes. I quickly switched to an Ausable Wulff (tied by Fran himself). After about 50+ fish tried to get a proxy on the count (although i knew this would be a night for the books, i find it hard to keep count after 5 or 6 fish anyway). So i counted 12 fish in a 20 minute period and this seemed about right compared to the every cast or every other cast catch rate. Yes i have read John and others who say it is not possible... Well i have nothing to prove and no one really cares but over the 4 hours this rate works out to about 150 fish, even if you discount the liar factor and 8 minute fishless period well from 5-9 i took well over 100 trout mostly rainbows (about 6 to 1 over browns) and 1 Chub. most fish were in the 12-14" range but I also had one decent fish a brown that went about 17".

The night was big by any standard and yes i could have been more like Nick Lyons and left afteran hour (we don't need to catch them all) but i stayed and likely would stillbe on the river now (but i "had to go" after 4 hours, and yes i bagged it out).

The highlight was not the catching, but rather "knowing" that it was going to happen like the old guy in "Old Guys", i knew this day, weather, temperature, timing and water level was going to hit big and planed to be there at zero hour and that was fun.

June is a magic month up north, this trip made up (almost) for only being out 3 days this year.

Favorite brook

I was up at 4am and on the water before 7am. I took 3 fine fish by the first pool and by 9 am I put in just above where i usually end my day. Initally i fished a lot of empty water or perhaps I just did not hit my lines. After about an hour & 1/2, I had reached the farthest point i had ever been. The river here drops into a flume and just above it consolidates and flows into a plunge pool by a large erratic. I tried it several dry flies all with no luck.

After a while I switched to a bead prince nymph (not my best fly based on the past), but i highsticked it through the pool, at first too high. I was afraid if i showed the stick it would spook the pool. Turns out i did not have to worry the water was so foamy & turbid.  On the next cast i sent it upstream into the falls and it got caught and sunk quickly. The result was a good fish with real weight for this river and after a short but good fight i landed the 2nd biggest fish from this small water, it was 11.5" or slightly better. A male with bold colors and perfect fins, his mouth was oversized (even for a borrkie) and filled with the gluttony of a spring male. He had (in addition to my prince nymph) 2 of the largest millipedes I have ever seen.

The general rule is one such fish to a pool but I gave it another flip Just-in-case. This time the line just stopped as though caught on a rock or stick. As i reached over the bolder i saw the fish was 3" + over the size of the male and perhaps even more. I was sure fine sport was upon me but unfortunately the fish just resisted, but she (it was a female) did not run. I eventually swung her around the back of the bolder and held a fish that went a bit over 15", which made this my 2nd best native ever and it was a 2nd fish from the pool.
As i headed up to move on to the next pool i could not help but to want to see how fecund the pool was and shortly flicked back into the falls. By now i had the rhythm and depth down. A fine male took and raced up the short pool and dove as far as he could. In the end he too was a bright and bold male with colors ablaze. Unfortunately he was the runt of the litter and came in about 10.25" or so. This was the first time i had taken 3 - 10" plus from this river in a single day, let alone a single pool and while my top fish still stands ( i hope he always will) taking these 3 made for a very satisfying day.

I started my way back down by 1 pm had reached the mid point, by 2 an old fellow passed with a sad knowing look, rough day?

Not really but, "Yes" was all i could say...

2nd day this year

This has been a tough year for fishing, well actually the fishing has been good but just not enough of it. I have only been out 3x this season and it is the end of May. One was in the prestocking season. One was on a spring creek with beautiful fish that were willing and eager. The most recent was a few weeks ago on an unnamed dried out piece of water. I just like these "drips", no one was there and if i found fish than great news, if not than cigars ho.

I hiked down into a micro box canyon down to the edge of the posted private water via a steep and difficult trail and by the time i had hiked (really slid) down to the water i had scared all the fish below the usual spot senceless. I hike back up to unmolested water, and took a brightly colored male in the first pool. He was full and firm with colors ablaze. I fished up to the next spot but there was no fish and so moved up to the best pool, the fish was there but i could not take him and did not want to risk a fly switch. I moved up to blank water and took the best female i have ever seen on this water 10" + and full bellied.
I fished and caught a few more but ended working my way up to the dam, where i have seen fish before, but never taken one. At the large rock just before the dam pool there was a fast current pushing along the bank and below the rock. Much further up this brook above the fish line is a very large bolder in the same pattern, that is the bank angles the water away and square into the rock creating a scour and then flowing down stream. I hit the bank hard, the fly stayed in the water and in the lane until it drifted out of sight on the far side under the rock. I knew to lift the rod and was fast to the best male 81/2 " this water would hold at this time of the year after a year of drout.

Ahhh satisfaction, i need to get out more...

Rich Guys

I love rich guys, well... not the ones who post their land, but those who live upstream from public water. This particular rich guy bought both sides of a well "known" Brook trout stream up north. He built out the dam at the tail of a pond that showed up on one of the older USGS maps. He stocked it with exotic fish (read extra large Browns, Bows and Graylings). The dam was going to be used to power his house, which was more reminiscent of a great camp or the ol' Faithful Inn, than any cabin built to date in this area. Well either the dam was not powerful enough, or it got blown out for some other reason (he did not like the color?). In any case when a dam gets blow out the fish tend to wander and in this case they wandered to public water just down stream.

I found myself in a place where 10" natives are a joy to find and more likely you work your way up stream fishing 6-9" natives that are both colorful and eager but not enough to break even the lightest of tippets. I tied on a #12 simulator vs. the usual #16 humpy for this water and hit the pocket water. You can't imagine the fun hauling out 18-19"+ fish from 2' deep pockets. These were fish you would only occasionally see on the lower and much more famous "4675".

After an almost comical series of hits including the trifecta (one of each - a Brookie, Bow and a Brown), I hit one pocket along a viscous micro chasm and knew that magic lay in there. The trick was to hit the top of the feed just below the cascade w/o falling in or getting knocked over by the force of the water. Well i did both and struck one of the best browns i will ever see. Unfortunately i do not plan ahead normally and in this case there was really no way to plan for this fish, so once hooked i figured to "just real him in". However life seldom works that way and i had not considered the difficulty of playing a fish like this in such small water (he was never meant to be in a little brook). After some careful play the fish "launched" up and over me (i am 6' tall) and down stream to the pool below. Well what ever solid footing i may have had was quickly lost, mostly from shock at the sight of this great brown rocketing over head (i know, i did not think browns jumped either). We both precipitated down a viscous stretch of rocks and landed in the great pool by the road. Once there I swear we just kind of looked at each other in disbelief but genuinely happy to be unhurt let alone alive. I tapedhim outto 22", slipped out the hook and slide him back into the water, knowing that i would never see a fish like this one in such small water again.             Good times, good times.

1st Pool

Most of us (the 3 other guys i talked to) consider the first pool to be the one shortly after the bridge pool. The bridge pool is really the first pool on the "455", and it's not more than 100 yards off the main road. But i have never had a rise, or seen a flash, nor has anyone moved a fish in the bridge pool (if there even are any???) so we do not consider it the 1st pool.

After crossing the bridge, the trail winds up away from the stream and the next one which is beyond view, is the one we call it the 1st pool. In this pool you can plainly see the fish. Most of my prior experience yielded a big -O- on this pool, but after careful study (less fishing more observing and reading the water) I could make out the flow line and a deep pocket channel that runs directly under the overhanging branch against the far wall. This pool is a nightmare as the angle of the tail shoots the water away from the wall and makes it difficult to sneak up on the residents. Stealth while required on any small stream is especially so required on this 1st pool due to the likely activity is sees, these are at least college educated trout.

The trick is to carefully fish the pocket water below the tail and release the 2 or 3 fish (depending on water levels) below your wading position vs. scare them up into the pool, which spooks the entire pool. Then crawl to the rocks nearest to the tail (this is just painful). You can not start your cast early as evidenced by the tangle of flies caught in the branches which overhang the channel. Clearly others had found this line, but not solved the casting puzzle. In fact if i don't mind a bit of a swim i can usually pick up 2 or 3 files on the cheap.

So the question is how to lay one in with out loosing it? The answer is to get close and low with a good sidearm false cast to the wall (it is ok to hit the actual wall as flies don't generally stick to a mud / dirt wall). The back side is well short of the branch, then false cast back and to the to of the lip of the pool toward the wall side. This method has the added benefit of the line flashing behind the fish so as not to spook them. The current will carry the fly into the line above the channel and directly over the fish. Once there the fish will or won't take your fly depending on your selection and their mood. This pool isso deep that one can regularly catch a 10 or 11" brookie from it.If your there in thefall you get the added bonus of full spawning color and all the life energy one could ever hope for.

All this means that you will spend about 25 minutes or more gaining your position (moving forward all of about 20 feet) and will then quickly take 2 or 3 fish (at most) from the pool, vs spending 5 minutes getting into position and 2 hours wiping the water senselessly without  rise or success. It has been very hard for me to slow down the process, to think vs fish, to watch vs do, but the end result has been less time casting in frustration and more time in an elegant dance with some of the most beautiful creatures around.

Spring is in the Air

Even if you live in a state with a year round open season, "Opening Day" has a magic about it, fueled by short days & long winter nights, topped with anticipation of good things to come. Today was in the 60's here and the air felt like it does 3 weeks into the season.  We had less than an inch of rain during the entire month of March which is all good until you realize that despite the fine weather today, the rains will come and the water will get murky and you really won't see much activity other than 20 x as many guys on the water as you will see in a few weeks from now.

The best opening days are spent fishing slow & deep (actually the best are enjoyed by the bait boys). On low clear water i tend toward a small black stone fly which is good for the first week or two, or you can always go with a bead head or a bugger. If the water is high, but you might want to steer clear of fast or deep water until you get your legs back even if you work out in the off season (which i really don't).

The last few years i have spent a lot more time watching the water and the other guys than fishing, it seems to be more productive and is even starting to be fun. I have taken a few dips early in the year and while not as scary as a fall or winter splash, you tend to be less able to get yourself out of trouble.

4 years ago i was on a local river that i very much enjoy though it does not have a good reputation. What it does have is several remote sections away from the road which generally provides some peace and quiet and a few holding impoundments a long walk from the road. I enter at one of the most trafficked spots (looking for easy stockers and a short walk). Well sometimes knowing a river too well is a dangerous thing and i misjudged the water level (high), the current speed (fast) and lost my footing near a very large old growth tree with a root ball that extended in to the water to create a great scour.

I was wading strongly and thought i had things under control, until i hit the scour, the water went from 3' to over the wader tops in a heartbeat the current quickened as the lip of the scour broke away. It was the first time i would go floating (w/o a boat). the depth of the scour grew to several feet below my submerged 6' and i felt danger for the first time, so i swung my feet to the downstream side and angled for land paddling frantically as i went. Between the low temperature 40' and the effort (try it some time) i quickly grew tired and just barely managed to reach some brush along the bank  to catch my breath. Just below this spot was what looked to be an easy take out, a tree with its roots cascading into steps leading into and hopefully out of the water. As it turned out the depth was at least a foot below my reach and as i hung on i found rather than getting rested i was growing more tired and shorter of breath. It might have been the cold or that i was now genuinely scared. In any case i know i would have to make one lunge for the roots and pull out.

Once on land it occurred to me that this was a close call, my heart should have been pounding (it was not), and now that I was out, i had a good story to tell. Today i am much more aware of my footing, of breaking loose and of the consequences. Not because i care about my life (which i do) and not even because i care about my family (which i do) but really just to get those few extra days unhurt to spend them fishing. To see nature and immerse your self in it is amazing especially when the car is just down the road.

So set your priorities, enjoy opening day, oh yeah and be courteous, to the old guys who came before us, the new guys who don't have a clue, the kids, dogs and other realities of life.

Wooly Buggers and the Night Train

The first fly i regularly caught fish with was the Wooly Bugger. It can be used as a streamer, nymph, terrestrial or a leach or just about anything else you can think of. It all depends on how you fish it... you can swing down and across, or slap it just above the tail of a pool, hit the far side of the river, why you can even drag it behind your sorry butt as you wade out of the water and the fish will basically nail this fly often hooking them selves. All in all this is the fly to fish before you get discouraged and quit fishing, but once you get good at this game some how it seems too easy, it is kind of like using bait. I am not against bait per say, but i like a little more challenge in my fun (typical NYer) i can't just enjoy my fun unless i need to work for it. Also i really get pissed off seeing your blue bait Tupperware containers all along rivers.

I mostly quit fishing Buggers about 3 years ago and now only fish them when the need arises, like when it has been raining for 3 days in a row and the river is so swollen that you need to put your waders on before you exit the truck. Or when i come across a really deep pool and nothing else works or when you've gone a day with out even a bump.

There is one time they are a good go to fly on warmer water when you hit a section of small mouths i guess they are fun to pound into the weeds or when the small mouths are taking crayfish off the bottom and you drag one along back words. Ok so I guess they are good files that work and I should fish them more than I do.

There was this one time on a local river that has a very deep hole in a regular deep pool, i had fished it many times but never had a bite. One night i stayed on the water long after dark and fished from the odd side (the one no one ever fished from) i weighted and sunk a large bugger down across and into the hole. I thought my fly was hung up at first, perhaps I was hooked on an underwater stump and my line dragged. I figured i had lost the fly at least when it suddenly pulled diagonally back and across (confirming the tree branch theory). In any case this was not a fish as there was no jump or panic or side to side pull it was just hard and away. Since the fly was lost i flexed the rod to one side and tried to turn the tree (it was dark and no one could see me making a fool of my self). the branch yielded although the pull was still all that my 4x could take.

In fact i had just hooked a south bound train that was pulling out of the station. Although i had read about them I really did not believe in, nor had never felt the Night Train before. Basically it is a Bass which has the weight and strength to say "NO" i will not move, i will not fight, you can not real me in with that wispy little fly rod.

After several minutes of this the hook seemed to pull free and the line came in easy, it then pulled right, a quick left and up and out of the water came my fish. It was a 4 or 5lb Bass, a beast which scared the hell out of me. At first in the dim moon light i could not tell it was a bass and thought it might be a pickerel or some other snaggletooth demon of the deep (plus i am just generally scared of the dark) and this was before head lights so i flicked my Bic and beheld a good bass thumbed his lower lip and held up a decent football sized fish.

I guess it is true what they say "they only come out at night".  If you can, it is a good time to be out but be careful your family wants you to come home.

3 Wt's are Fun

My friends all fish a 5 or a 6wt rods, generally they are 9' and i guess if you are on big water, after big fish or are throwing 60' of line this makes sense. But this seems like a lot or rod for a 12-16" fish which is where I spend much of my time. Lately i am in search of quite / small water; typically this means a 3wt either my 8.4 for open small water where casting is easy although not generally requiring more than 30' or so. I also have a 3 wt 5' J.P. Ross that i love for small, tight "cripple creek water".

I call anything where tree branches scratch both cheeks as you move up stream a cripple creek. At the head or tail of most any pool you can simply step over a few rocks and move from one bank to the fide side. Generally there is nothing more than an 8 or 9" fish in these waters. In here you can go a whole day without ever seeing another person. I think this has more meaning to someone like me who works with 50 folks a day and literally passed through 10s of thousands every day. I enjoy going a whole day with out a word or the necessities of polite conversation and while a 7" rainbow or brookie might not be worth mentioning at the club (or in print) it sure has made for fond memories. Besides with all the snakes, bears, deer, beaver, otters, bats, not to mention the chipmunks, and frogs i have had more than my fair share of heart racing excitement.

One reason to choose a lighter weight rod is that a 8" fish on a 3 wt = a 15" on a 5 wt or a 18" on a 6 wt and if it is all relative than i guess i am doing ok. Also most places i fish do not have a trail or even a rough fisherman's path, i spend entire days bushwhacking through some rough stuff and a bigger rod either gets in the way, breaks or needs to be broken down (which i only do at the end of the day and not even then sometimes). Lastly i love to be able to "clear" the tip while holding the butt and you just can't do that on a 7 or 9' rod.

It is true you can't cast far with a 5' rod, but far is also a relative thing. When most pools are a few feet to 10' across far can be the leader or the leader + a few feet of line. It is more a game of flipping than casting and stealth trumps a smooth stroke. The most successful folks are just trying to stay out of the trees.

Ok so what can't it do? Well you can forget about hi-sticking (nymphing) unless you are atop a rock overhanging the water and if you can shimmy up there without your rod or reel or some jinglingobject from your vest clinking against the rock and spoiling the pool you’re a better man than me. What else? Well when you do hit the 30' + pool you can't roll cast to the tongue (that is even if you could chain saw a path behind you for the back cast to unroll in).

Aside from these 2 things i think i will stick with my shortie stick for small water and pack the 5 wt just in case i find big open water.

White Tarantula

I once read that first we dream of a trout on a fly. Next a dry fly, then several in a outing. You know where it goes from there, a hard fish, several hard fish, a large fish, several large and difficult fish, finally it is not really about the fish. Ok but this is getting ahead of the story. My first dream size was 19", because i had regularly taken fish in the 12-16" range and on good water taken fish in the 16-18" range. Also this was shy of 20" which at the time seemed impossible in the east. Finally if i ever did get a 19" i might actually beat it. If i started with 20" and got one, i might never exceed that and in general i think it is a good idea to set some goals that you can reach and even some that you can beat.

After a few years and a hundred+ fishless daze you tend to either get this down to a few flies and drifts that work or you just quit. If you are like me you can't quit b/c it is not in you and even a zero day is a fun day if you approach it right.

 I got up very early one day, hit the best river in the state and fish all the right flies. I worked my way down stream to one of the best pools. I fished both the head and tail  with nada to show after 3+ hours. I took a break to rest the pool and i noticed the biggest fish in the river. My dream fish was lazily rising in a rhythmic pace on the far side in a channel which funneled into a single drift below a riffle (an ideal lie). I waded into position just below the fish and to the side. I tied on a #14 dry that looked right and cast up and over the fish into the lane. It drifted over the fish, he rose (this was too easy), he drifted back for a few feet (something he had not previously done) after an eternity he passed on the fly and returned to his lie to await the next morsel. I retrieved the fly and examined it closely for defect, dried it and cast again. The same result except the fish only drifted back a foot before the rejection. Despite repeated cast i could not interest him again nor did my flailing the water put him down.

I stopped for a while and thought about the most likely issues (based on what everyone said and wrote). I added 7x to my tippet and changed flies to a smaller one that seemed right. Throughout the fish continued to rise and feed. I took a deep breath and cast again into the lane and a few feet up from the fish. Perfect the fish rose and drifted back, as he did it occurred to me he was not going to take it, before he actually rejected it 3 feet down river. It was at this point i felt certain this Trout truly had magical powers, that he was smart and could tell the difference. So i tied on a even smaller fly b/c surely 8x could not hold such a fish (also I did not have 8x). Nada, fly after fly until i had exhausted even my smallest BWO flies.

I went back to the bank and searched my box (es). Frustrated i lit a cigar and slowed down, the fish continued to rise. How many perfect casts could I make? How much could he eat? How long could this go on???

In a final bit of frustration i tied on a large White Tarantula, although i do not recall buying such a beast or how it came to be in my box it just seemed to be the wrong fly for this hot summer day when fish were gorging on the smallest of flies. I made 2 mistakes first I failed to cut back the leader enough for this massive (by comparison) fly to balance it and second forget to false cast it before getting back into position. Simply put you cannot cast a #6 the same way you cast a light dry #18 or 20.

Even though i used exactly the same stroke as on the last 50 casts, the result was not the same. I over shot the feeding lane by several feet, hitting the far bank, this should have spoiled the pool & day. In frustrated agony I yanked the fly off the bank; it plopped within 18” of the great fish, who turned with startled apprehension. Instead of fleeing he moved for the fly. I now became the startled prey. I hurriedly yanked the fly away in short jerks and was in fact able to get out of there with out getting caught. I soon realized what I had done and laughed. I quickly reset and again landed the fly on the beach only this time I was ready, I yanked the fly into the water and gave several follow up jerks the fish pounced like a great cat on a mole, and “got me”, err umm, I got him.

The fish gave a great fight, or so it seemed on a 3 wt, but did not jump and after a long while i was able to bring him to hand. The first thing I noticed was he was hard bodied, unlike any rainbow or trout before and most since. The fish had a great kipe which is also unusual for a rainbow this size, it seemed out of place for the usually smaller mouthed rainbows so i figured him to be very old. I taped it out to 19 ½” and was tempted to keep him but thought he earned an extra day (at least) a stream.  

So set a goal, reach and exceed your reach and when "what should work" doesn’t, sometimes you just have to go a different way.

Known Pockets

I love that i remember almost every productive pocket that i have fished. The problem is that I remember most every one i have fished. So why is this a problem, b/c when you return to a piece of water and are having no luck, or if other spots are not producing, you tend to remember where you took a good fish and return to the past productive pocket or hole.

Is a fish from the same hole next week or next month or even years later as interesting as a new fish from a new spot?

Or is this why we fish home waters?

BWO's

I could never understand how such a small a fly could catch a fish, let alone a big fish. Or for that matter why they would even bother to eat something that small? Then if you actually caught one how would a point the width of 4 sheets of paper hold when even the largest hooks pull out? I tried to draw a parallel to my eating habits as I am the only entity I am familiar with. I thought about what i eat. Sure I like a steak as much as the next guy, this does not mean I would pass up Ikura, I even eat them one at a time, sometimes. I am not certain how many it would take to fill me up, but I don’t think it could be done.

 

So getting back to the fish I can see if BWO’s are tasty and plentiful than sure, why wouldn’t a fish go for it. This still left the question about how the hook would hold or even be able to gain a purchase in the lip. I decided to leave that question until I caught one, believing John and A.K. and Nick would not steer me wrong…

 

I was on the 4675; the day was grey and cloudy, with a temperature in the mid 40’s, in other words a nice day to be on the river.  As i rounded a sloping bend, a slow flat slick presented itself. The water was dimpled by some gentle rain, but there were rises all over the pool. From the distance I could not make out what they were coming up for. Moving closer and over to the bank it appeared that miniature sail boats were drifting in a linier regatta. In one section they looked like they were being shot from an unseen underwater canon in a procession with military precision. The regularity of the rises popping out of the meniscus to the surface and the absolutely linier parade of these miniature soldiers seemed completely out of character for nature which tends to favor organic random patterns.

 

There were about a dozen or so fish and 2 very different styles of rise. The first were splashy and energetic, I later discovered (thanks to catching some) they were the small fish expelling bursts of energy and capturing few flies. The second was more interesting; an almost indiscernible nose would rise through the meniscus, once there it would magically, leisurely suspend and capture several BWO before its decent a model of adult efficiency. The next step seemed easy enough to count the time between the rises, wait & cast upstream directly upstream a rising fish and wait. Timing is harder than it looks sometimes so I moved to the splashier rises as they seemed easier to cast to and catch. 

 

After a few successful catches I wanted to try something I had read about a 20/20 which is catching a 20” + fish on #20 or smaller hook. Now it is always a better idea to try new things like this after catching a few. Catching a few is good for your confidence and if it does not work out well you still caught a few and had a good time.

 

I tied on the smallest hook I had # 24 and by now I had 2 things going, first after adding and clipping tippet all day my line was balanced (this was an accident and something I rarely get right) and second I now had the rhythm going. So I picked out one of the gentlest rises (in the past I would have been sure this was the smallest fish in the pool but now I knew better). I lined up where a miniature cannon, was firing fresh hatched flies to a certain & unfortunate end.  I made a quick false cast and then fired my BWO into the procession line with only a hope it dented the surface in a similar way to the real batius. As the other sailboats made their gentle path to the shallow depression I held my breath as the fish took his. Then came the hardest part I have ever experienced, I was actually in the fish but could not tighten the line or strike as the cavity was still open, the fish was gorging himself.

 

Eventually he either need a drink to wash down all the flies or to breath water or was just so full of files that he sunk. I lifted my rod and was fast to a fine fish. I love that expression “fast to a fine fish”. In October it takes on extra meaning as fall trout are able to pull like summer night bass on to light tackle that won’t be reeled in or freight trains. The water temperature coupled with oxygen levels imbibe thefish with energy rarely seen at other times of the year.  I knew he was a good fish but now the challenge was to reel him in before the hook pulled out. As he stripped off the line it occurred to me that the few fish I had earlier lost were not due to the hook size but rather sometimes you just lose fish, hey it happens. Wetting my hands in preparation I brought him in, and held a fine brown trout. He taped out to 21 ¼ not the biggest fish ever but it certainly gained me entry into the 20/20 club. 

 

It is good to have goals, now I have a new goal the 24/24 club, a 2’ + fish on a #24 or smaller hook. I don’t really care if I ever get there but it is good to extend your self, to reach, learn and grow. Perhaps I should try going the other way as well, but I am not sure how a #4 hook is going to catch a 4” fish…

Head & Tail Rise

The parking lot is only 20 or so feet from the river which seemed real appealing at the time, but fishing here starts with a rappel off a 40 cliff to the water below. When the water is this “far” away you tend to have to get everything you will need for the day together, before you head to the water. Due to my failing sight, magnifiers were my first thought (the rest I could improvise) and one by one all the usual suspects were stored in my vest. Sunglasses, cigars, lighter, clippers, flies, tippet, extra leader, floatent, non-toxic shot, extra large straw hat to shade me, water to drink and of course my vest with rain gear in the back pocket.

 

I found some anchors to set up on and proceeded on my trip down to the water's edge. At the bottom I stowed my gear and set out on the water. The tail glided into the fast pocket water just before the river precipitated into the canyon below. Above the drop it is easy enough to wade out into the center (I planned to fish the edges). As I made my way I noticed a classic “head & tail rise”. This was a big fish feeling very secure in a covered cave like situation below some big rocks as the tails drop off. In the past I might have gone straight for this fish due to its size and my uncertainty but spending a lot of time on the water over the last 6 years I made a note of the location and figured that later, I would just fish down there and get him rather than spoil the pool in hopes of this one fish.

 

This turned out to have been a good choice. The tail had over 50 fish rising and I had a pocket full of BWOs. Personally I don’t think size or color matters as quite as much as some folks say, and I can not cast very well, but I can read float lines, calculate rise rhythms and drift my flies with out any noticeable drag. On this day I took fish after fish to the point of absurdity, mostly they were small (12-16", and a rainbow the highlight that topped out at 19") but this is not a story about how many fish. It is about a “Head & Tail Rise”.

 

The rain started slowly at first, so I reached for my trusty rain gear in the back of my vest. For some reasonI could not get my hand far enough down so I moved to the bank and had to take off my vest, it was then I realized I had no rain gear in my vest. Faced with only 2 choices, the smart one to get out of there and back up to the car and the second was to hope the rain did not last and fish through it with only a straw sun hat (for protection) and a poly propylene tee shirt. I chose the 2nd route, figuring it was early summer, the rain was light and well how long could it last? You know where this is going the rain got progressive harder, but really once you’re wet how much wetter can you get?.

 

As I moved back into the river I thought about the Head & Tail Rise I had seen earlier in the day.  I changed flies to a 16 gray something dry fly with a white tuff on top for easy sighting. I am proud to say I did not make a single cast until I had moved into position, there was no real rush, (by now I had the river all to my self despite the quality fishing). 2 anxious moments occurred; 1) targeting a fish hours after first spotting it was still relatively new to me and 2) between the rain and my wet cloths it felt like my waders were filling up. The lower I got below the tail the faster the water the heaver the drag. I had actual visions of cascading through the canyon below; the upside of this (if I made it) was that I would not have to scale the wall to get back to the car. As I studied the water I realized I would need to throw a wide slack line cast and quickly feed the line down stream to get it across and into his cave. So first I amadou’d the fly and doped it heavily, at all other expense I created a body cavity to allow it to dry and held it tight through the rain as I feed out the line.

 

2 quick false casts to get enough line out and to line up the correct position and my cast landed about 30 or so feet up river from the cavity. I did a quick exaggerated mend which almost sank the fly, but it pop up and set it on the right course. The drift was like slow motion a 30 foot drift seemed to take 20 minutes. From the moment the fly did not sink on the mend, I felt good about the cast. As I watched it work its way along the far bank I thought for a moment about another mend but could not risk sinking the fly. As it approached the opening I felt I misjudged the extra current off the rock and was certain it would drag. Just past the opening and a hair beyond the place where I recalled the rise I saw the fish come up, it was only then I did the math “ when to strike” I was a 45 feet ++ from the fish and had a lot of slack on the water. By the time the tail had come up I had already struck and as I watched the line tighten as he went under. I knew I had him, the fish gave a terrific fight stripping line and making my real sing a joyful song. The fish was a good 100 feet out when it occurred to me that it was heading for the fast pocket water and that I might loose it. I leaned on the butt and started the turn which moved the fish head in to the current this quickly tired it, and I reeled in a 21” brown. Not my biggest fish but still I can’t wait for next year…

 

Normally i keep my vest pretty full, but i always seem to forget something on the first day of a new trip. One day I will write down all the things I need on the water, a checklist  (including my rain gear) and keep it in my truck with the rest of my gear. One day I will write down a list, but not today…

 

 

 

First Time

It was on the "567" where i took my first rainbow on a fly and I guess it was as good a first place as any to wet a line. The river is known for trout it flows clear and gently though pastoral rolling farm country. Where i parked the car, the river is 40 feet or so across with plenty of open space between the trees which made the casting easy. I waded up an down every inch of about 300 or more yards of the river from side to side, kicking and stomping everything in site. I guess i figured it was the only way to gauge the bottom of the river and it currents (I know better now). I also assumed that i could just stop anywhere, that the fish were everywhere and that equipped with all the paraphernalia i could afford, would enable me to just catch fish or better still they would key into the cool logos and just jump right into my net.

After several hours with nothing to show, I waded out for a drink and a snack, during which time i "rested the water"(and myself).  After the short break I worked my way back to the water, i fished the edges and found mostly course fish. It was (and is) always fun to catch sunnies, but i did not drive 4 hours for sunnies, i was here for Trout. I guess i thought that the "good fish" (the trout) must be in the deeper current seam in the middle which was a good 2-3' deeper than the rest of the stream. So I switched from the bead heads, shrimp and nymphs which worked fine in the weeds to a Hornberg (mostly b/c i liked the way it looked) it seemed like a big meal for a hungry trout.

While changing flies i felt a presence behind me but when i turned to scan the horizon, nothing was there. Usually i am fairly sensitive to animals (see the "Brown Rocks" story), so i turned back and there 20 or so feet up river was a snake winding it way down toward me. My first instinct was to run, or some other such responsible grown-up action. Even then i was not certain that his heading my way was a plan or he was just caught in the current and i was downstream in any case i guided the tip of my rod to gently alter his slither and reroute him away from me. This worked fine for both of us.

Back to the Hornberg... I fished it down and across, not b/c i had read Bergman's "Trout", but b/c it was a hot day and i had been cooking in my waders for hours. I  and was just plain tired. I let the fly hang in the current and drew it back up in short strips, other times ijust jiggled the rod's tip. With none of the graceful cast and no hits this was close to being my first and last day as a fly fisher. At some point i was on to a good fish, although to this day i can not recall the strike or even the bump prior feeling the fish. I honestly think he really just hooked himself. I reeled him in and held my first fly caught rainbow, the fish was only about 14" but it was the greatest fish i had even held. I knew it was special and this one strike committed me to a life sentence of fly (well mostly fly) fishing.

My first instinct was to keep and eat him (but in the past I only eat them when camping or I am in need). After i had admired the catch, i slipped the hook out and tried to release him, but found him sluggish and unable to swim away. I walked him out to the current and held him so he faced into the flow to revive him and after a few minutes he was fine and swam crisply away.  All things considered one fish was a good first day with a fly.

Old Guys

It was a scorcher (mid 90s+) but the water was in the mid 60's, so it should have been good for trout, but fish are funny that way and i guess either the light was too bright, or the water was too wet or something else was just off. In those days i would spend 12 - 16 + hours a stream, a day wading every foot of the river or stream, kicking rocks and blind fishing. On several prior occasions this particular 100 yard riffle had been very productive water, so based on the past I flailed away wiping the water and dragging my dehydrated, sweating self up and down the "75" going fishless.

After a while i noticed a blue pickup truck driving back and forth a 1/2 dozen times over about 3 or 4 hours. Inside was Old Guy, he seemed to be watching me fish. Given my catch rate I was really just wading with a fancy stick and string. Old Guy had been driving along the dirt road kicking up enough dust to remind me of those old B&W desert movies, he stopped at one point and yelled "What are you doing?" This was a troubling question, as it was clear I was standing in water up to my chest, waving what PJ had previously noted is a really expensive clothesline back and forth, so clearly i was either a fool or a really bad fisherman (or more likely both). Generally when i am in a remote place and a lone guy stalks me, the NY’er in me kicks in and i hear the “Deliverance” banjo play, thinking this is why Woody Allen stays in the city.  But i like to be polite and answered him that i was fishing. He just shook his head looked at me in a most pitiful way, like i was planting corn in dry cement.

It was about 6:15 pm before Old Guy stopped his truck and sat on the step bar. It would be another 1/2 hour before he took out his waders and an hour more before he dropped into the water. I feel I should point out he was not that old (late 60's) he was simply taking his time. Just before 8 he finished straitening his leader andtied on a fly. He looks over to the pitiful city boy and yelled to (at?) me for the second time this day “Adams #14”. Right then i knew he was clearly a master sharing a powerful secret. As fast as i could i clipped my 10th + fly of the day and tied on an Adams #14 (though i had never fished one before). Now for those of you not in the club this is one of the oldest dry flies out there and yeah i know this is the most popular fly sold in America, blah, blah, blah, but there is a reason for this. The thing just looks buggy and everyone really should have a few in various sizes.

It was a real joy to watch him fish, his line was balanced for the tippet and fly; it was sheer poetry as I watched him lay out 50' + balanced, graceful casts. This Old Guy however was not a caster or a poet or even showing off; he was the 1% who catches 90% of fish. In the time it took me to real in, clip off and tie the fly on, he had landed about 5 or 6 fish in the same water i had been fishing all day with out a hit (mostly with out even a bump). My first cast was about as bad a cast as you could hope for in the presence of such a master and as the line piled, bunched and sagged, i prepared to rip it off the water but it was stuck. In the high country there are fallen trees and rocks and other snags but in this gin clear water where I knew there were no hang ups within a 100 yards (i had just spent the day kicking and wading the entire riffle). So this was, it was, it was a fish!?!?. Good news, i reeled him in and just smiled, Old Guy smiled back.

I usually don't keep count or at least I stop counting fish after about 6 (it is not really about the fish) but in this case as he fished me 2 to 1 and as the body count rose i keep track. With a new fish at least every 2nd or 3rd cast the count rose quickly. Up to this point i had only read about “boiling rivers overflowing with fish” and assume they were fiction. I know the math guys will say it is just not possible, but we quickly passed 30 & 50 respectively. When i hit 30 I broke out laughing (i had never been north of 15 or even really close to it), and Old Guy looked at me and asked for the 2nd time that day "What are you doing?" Again, he was asking “Why?” But this time it was why are you wasting your time laughing, whennow is the time to be fishing. Shortly after dark we waded out (the fishing had not let up but we were tired and it was a tough wade back to the bank).

My goal in life up until then was to hit the trifecta (a brookie, a brown and a rainbow in a single day). Well this was a special river and although most of the fish were stockers I managed 3 brookies, 9 bows, 20 + browns and a landlocked salmon. This was a turning point for me, i had learned more in a few hours than in the last few years.

Back at the trucks we just kind of looked at each other and smiled. Old Guys are just other guys who got old along the way. They were once, are still and will be again our friends, our mentors, our brothers and even one day ourselves.

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Rich Guys

I love rich guys who live upstream from public water. This particular rich guy bought both sides of the "55" a "known" Brooke trout stream up north. He built out the dam at a pond that showed up on the older USGS maps and stocked it with exotic fish (extra large Browns, Bows and Graylings). The dam was going to be used to power his house, which was more reminiscent of a great camp or the ol' Faithful Inn, than any cabin built to date in this area. Well either the dam was not powerful enough, or it got blown out for some other reason (he did not like the color?). In any case when a dam gets blow out the fish tend to wander and in this case they wandered to public water just down stream.

I found myself in a place where 10" natives are a joy to find and more likely you work your way up stream fishing 6-9" natives that are both colorful and eager but not enough to break even the lightest of tippets. I tied on a #12 simulator vs. the usual #16 humpy for this water and hit the pocket water. You can't imagine the fun hauling out 18-19"+ fish from 2' deep pockets. These were fish you would only occasionally see on the lower and much more famous river below.

After an almost comical series of hits including the trifecta (one of each - a Brookie, Bow and a Brown), I hit one pocket along a viscous micro chasm and knew that magic lay in there. The trick was to hit the top of the feed just below the cascade w/o falling in or getting knocked over by the force of the water. Well i did both and struck one of the best browns i will ever see. Unfortunately i do not plan ahead normally and in this case there was really no way to plan for this fish, so once hooked i figured to "just real him in". However life seldom works that way and i had not considered the difficulty of playing a fish like this in such small water (he was never meant to be in so small a brook). After some careful play the fish "launched" up and over me (btw - i am 6' tall) and down stream to the pool below. Well what ever solid footing i may have had was quickly lost, mostly from shock at the sight of this great brown rocketing over head (i know, i did not think browns jumped either). We both precipitated down a viscous stretch of rocks and landed in the great pool by the road. Once there I swear we just kind of looked at each other in disbelief but genuinely happy to be unhurt let alone alive. I taped him out to 22", slipped out the hook and slide him back into the water, knowing that i would never see a fish like this one in such small water again.             Good times, good times.

January Daze

I plan to follow the river to its source, despite it being one of the most polluted rivers in one of the most polluted states in the US. The further up river i traveled the nicer the water, until i came to the headwaters where it became a wild trout stream. I parked the car and crossed the near branch of the river (which gets pounded b/c it is the near branch), Crossing a large field I came to a wooded trail which lead to the waters edge where i rigged up. The headwaters were as most are, more a creek than a river it ran gin clear with what had to be truly wild (although not native) fish. This was the warmest January on record and i set up with a simulator and a hare's ear dropper. The stimulator was for me and the dropper for the fish. It has taken me more than 2 years to get this rig correct, including the rhythm and cast. Just keeping them from twisting and knotting is half the battle before you ever get to really fish it.

The first promising pool told me what to expect of the day - small rainbows (up to 7" most still showed their Parr marks). The fish were wild and bread naturally in the many reds that were clearly visible in the shallow water. Although the fish were small they were willing as most thin water fish would be. A warm January day is a good time to be a stream, it is long after the leaves have precipitated to the ground and the day was not windy enough to kick up the fallen ones back into the water. The float lines were barely visible due to the low water. Having spent over 300 days (total) a stream in the last few years I was able to pick the finest of lines and by the time i had reached the pocket water my casts were solid and i was having a fine day.

Typically in the winter you fish the pools slow & deep, but i always feel the need to try every likely place (including drains and ditches along the road). After about several hours and 2 miles in i hit a riffle that looked too shallow, but it was just below a bug factory that looked right and so i tested the tail, with positive results and another small bow. There was a good rock in mid riff and under the bank overhand which yielded the second best fish of the day, an 8" + which played and swam the length of the pool (this usually spoils the rest of the pool)  But as the day was running hot i figured to test the tongue and sure enough the best fish of the day was gathering up nymphs from the lip. He only ran about 9" but this was a mature fish w/ no Parr markings, a bright red stripe and a dark spotted tail, he belonged. I released him knowing this was the fish of the day and she would spawn in the spring.

I walked a few more miles but didn't really fish much, although i did put forth a half hearted effort at the falls. I never really learned how to fish falls water, but it gives me something to look forward to in my next 300 days astream. I sat down and lit a cigar to enjoy one of the best January day i have even seen. Despite what you read " These are the good ol' days".