Mid July

Johnny Cash wrote about when his throat was dry when he hit town in Mid July, but I don't think he fished the low water 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 seen in July.

When it is hot & low i generally do not fish, i stop on the way up for several bags of ice and 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 100 degree days (2) 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

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 his 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...