Fly Fishing for Trout in Pockets, Pools, Riffles and Runs

Climb High

2010-02-11T09:10:00.001-08:00

When the Sun first crests the eastern ridge around mid February the time is right for kicking your boots into crusted ice & on snow in the high country. I spent much of the weekend before sharpening my piolet (axe) and crampons points, with a glee matched only by Steven King's novel about Jack being an unhappy boy.

Let just say the neighbors were curious.

I pulled into the lot about 1:30 in the am after visiting 2 separate family members in hospitals earlier in the day. The drive up helped shake off much of the days concerns and although tired, I knew I would not sleep that night. By 2:30 the car's interior had reach equilibrium with the outside temperature ~ 6 or 7 degrees, but there was no wind in the car so I guess it was ok. I tossed & turned until I folded into a light drift not awake but not really asleep. I was just relieved to be free from concern or worry for a few hours.

By 5:30 I was suiting up, it would take me the next hour ++ to get ready and by then the sky was glowing azure ember in the east. I kicked off at around 6:40 and crossed the bridge moments after that. The trail was largely obscured by the snow and duffel, but the markers were clearly visible and I knew the path although steep would be recognizable.

The first difficult stretch is a spiral rise on a steep slope into deeply shaded and cold cavity, a virtual colure. In this case it was a desperate & lonely Catskill hollow, known far & wide as the last solitary place on earth. This loneliness pervades the region despite the 12 million + people who live within a 2 hour drive.

The next mile + & 450 ft of gain came slowly as the snow was in a deep drift and post holing step by step was brutal. Each lift of the leg included the normal weight + the 5 lb boots, 3 lb crampons, 1 lb gators & who knows how many pounds of snow & mud caked to my boots. All told this equates to approximately an additional 25-30 pounds in my pack (so much for the light weight solo).

By the top of the rise I was post holing up to my thighs and sweating bullets in 12 degree weather, which is always fun. The wind was starting to pick up. I shucked my mid layer and was quickly chilled to the bone before seeing the sun brake free beyond the distant hills. The winter clarity and quality of the air was comforting. I quickly amped up the pace and this stoked the furnace with in. There is a delicate balance between freezing and boiling in the winter and far too little middle ground between the two.

At a point not long after the ground gave way and the mountain seems to sheer off to the abyss on my left, in the summer it would be hardly noticeable but a single poorly chosen step would commence a steep, precipitous & painful fall. In this situation you monitor ever step and carefully test each placement & hold. I relish the demands and required focus which allows me to put aside my concerns for a time & happily this time there were no mistakes.

In the first open clearing after the spring water pipe you will find 4 bolts which protrude the snow in an eerily sinister manner (be careful not to step on or pierce your foot with them they are rusty and if there was another foot of snow who knows I might have missed them. I think they were the anchors for the old lookout tower; the newer one is a few hundred feet beyond this in a wide open clearing.

Although the steps to the tower were barred by a grate on the way up you could not go much further this day as the wind was in full howl by this point and although only 30 or 40 mph it was enough to make me anxiously head for the tree line.

The trip down was equally pleasant and the car never felt better or the heated seats warmer. The coco at the dinner was pretty good as well.

2009-08-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

Brookie By Dave Green, Featuring Paul Arbor

2009-07-08T19:35:00.000-07:00

2009-06-26T20:01:00.000-07:00

2009-06-26T19:54:00.000-07:00

Bow

2009-06-04T09:56:00.000-07:00

2009-05-10T18:54:00.000-07:00

2009-03-29T14:40:00.000-07:00

When the Sun first crests the eastern ridge...

2009-02-18T16:48:00.000-08:00

When the Sun first crests the eastern ridge (~mid February) the time is right for kicking your boots on crusted ice & snow in the high country. I spent much of the weekend before sharpening my piolets (axes) and crampons points, with a glee matched only by king's 3rd novel about Jack being an unhappy boy.

Let just say the neighbors were curious...

I pulled into the lot about 1:30 am after visiting 2 separate family members in the hospital before. The drive up shook off much of the days concerns and although tired I knew I would not sleep that night. By 2:30 the car's interior had reach equilibrium with the outside temperature ~ 6 or 7 degrees, but there was no wind in the car and I tossed & turned until I folded into a light drift not awake but not really asleep. I was just relieved to be free from concern or worry for a few hours.

By 5:30 I was suiting up, it would take me the next hour to get ready and by then the sky was glowing azure in east. I kicked off at around 6:40 and crossed the bridge moments after that. The trail was largely obscured by the snow and duffel, but the markers were clearly visible and I knew the path although steep would be recognizable.

The first difficult stretch is a spiral rise on a steep slope into deeply shaded and cold cavity, a virtual colure. In this case it is a desperate & lonely Catskill hollow, known far & wide as the last solitary place on earth. This loneliness pervades the region despite the 12 million + people who live within a 2 hour drive.

By the top of the rise I was post holing up to my thighs and sweating bullets. The temperature was a robust 11 degrees and the wind was starting to lick up. I shucked my mid layer and was chilled to the bone before seeing the sun brake above the distant hills. The winter clarity of the bright air was comforting. I quickly amped up the pace and this stoked the furnace with in. There is a delicate balance between freezing and boiling in the winter and far too little middle ground between the two.

At a point not long after the ground gave way and the mountain seems to sheer off to the abyss on my left, in the summer it would be hardly noticeable but a single poorly chosen step would lead to a steep precipitous & painful fall. In this situation you monitor ever step and carefully test each hold. I actually enjoy the demands and required focus which allows me time from life & this time there were no mistakes...

The first open clearing after the spring water pipe you will find a series of bolts which protrude the snow in an eerily sinister manner (be careful not to step on or pierce your foot with them they are rusty and if there was another foot of snow who knows I might have missed them. I think they were the anchors for the old lookout tower; the newer one is a few hundred feet beyond this in a very open clearing.

The steps to the tower were barred by a grate on the way up, but you could not go much further this day, as the wind was in full howl by this point and although only 30 or 40 mph it was enough to make me anxious for the tree line.

The trip down was equally pleasant and the car never felt better or the heated seats warmer.

The coco at the dinner was pretty good as well.

2009-01-02T20:04:00.001-08:00

2008-12-04T20:19:00.000-08:00

Jaqui

2008-10-05T11:01:00.001-07:00

2008-09-21T19:03:00.000-07:00

अ लिटिल रैन नेवर हर्ट अन्योने

2008-09-16T20:43:00.000-07:00

michael

2008-08-20T21:54:00.000-07:00

Pine Barrons

2008-07-13T21:24:00.000-07:00

2008-07-06T07:21:00.000-07:00

benhwar

2008-06-29T11:08:00.001-07:00

smile

2008-06-15T19:55:00.000-07:00

डी-Day

2008-06-15T19:49:00.001-07:00

bear

2008-06-01T19:35:00.001-07:00

2008-05-25T20:31:00.001-07:00

वेलर'स लोस्त वीकएंड

2008-05-25T06:02:00.000-07:00

आफ्टर ७ येअर्स सव मदे आईटी टू थे शो!

2 more for the book

2008-05-20T19:37:00.000-07:00

नज साल्ट Pond

2008-05-20T12:16:00.001-07:00

१स्त् स्प्रिंग

2008-05-13T18:35:00.000-07:00

फर्स्ट स्प्रिंग वास न्यू...

2008-05-04T19:16:00.001-07:00

Spider Web ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿

2008-04-17T22:13:00.001-07:00

photos

2008-04-16T20:21:00.001-07:00

Bumping for April Bottom Dwellers

2008-04-13T20:37:00.000-07:00

The day off fine in the high 40's heading to low 50's. I was working up a tiny 3-4 wide creek, bumping along the bottom (with a nymph..). A few hits later i settled down and then thing got productive real fast. 3 quick parr, & 2 - 2year olds. 1 more an i would stop counting & enjoy the rest of the day, thank you very much. I tyed one of the ADK caddies (last purchase prior to the accident.

I spent the balance of the day with this as my only fly. I fished it dry, wet, skidered, sunk and as streamer. Upstream & down this previously skunked fly was hit in holes i never took fish from before. It is always fun to find new spots on old trails, little did i know this would be the best jersey day to date...

The first brook i went to had the only spot taken by the time i arrived. So rather than try to fit in on a tight road i went to an old brook i use to fish long ago. The initial few pools we re either vacant or fished out but as i moved upstream i found fish after fish pocket after pocket of fire blazed natives. The sweeper was so dry i could not get a hit and then proceed to spoil the long narrow pool above it.

By noon i reached the main pool and it was as productive as ever, with both tungs providing ample sport. I did not make it to the impoundments as the weather was threatening.

I worked my way down and the sport was as fine as the trip up... At the bottom i fished the bridge pool and took several final fish including a 3 year old, who by comparison was huge, just shy of a 10 incher.

After a rest i tried the other spot & it was open! the bottom again was vacant of fish (or even a decent bump). I first thought the action was done for the day or the fly had ceased to work. Neither turn out to be so... I passed every pool & riff including the Snake Pool (never missed there before). Finally i reached the bolder pool & riff, settled down and think i took every fish in the long pool including the big ones (2 - 3 year olds) at the head.

Working my way down the fallen tree sweeper i took a fish and had a bump (first ever from this sweeper. Slowly making my way back to Snake Pool i noticed a consistent riser at the head but swung around to the tail (which was fairly empty). I did make a bounce / skip cast into the tree base, which was met with a specular rise but i missed him (one of the several misses of the day).

Swinging back to the head i fished down to the riser and took the only brown of the day a 3 year old who along with his forbearer's own this one pool and if your lucky it will add a brown to your day of brokies.

It was the nicest 53 degree day i can recall.

Opening Weekend

2008-04-06T18:18:00.000-07:00

Saturday was to the be the day!
But my allergies kept me away.
Sunday, ah Sunday.

Cold & Gray, at 42 it was an ideal opening weekend day. The water level was just right, not to high not to low & just a bit cold for anyone in their right mind to be waist deep this early in April.

I had a flee flicker of a 3wt 6.6 with a heavy isyoncia tungsten bead head.

down, deep, slow & across - - - - bang; A 14" spawning color abloom brookie.

noticed a long trailing tippet & thought about tying on another so i got out a woolly worm.

down, deep & down straight below me was an active surface, so... down & bang.

This one was difficult to reel in (a 3 wt is just not really opening day fare). As i lifted the head i noticed the most pleasantly surprising sight to ever see, let alone on opening day, there on the line with 2 hooks were a fine brace (2 fish) one, on the bead head & one, on the woolly worm.

I knew right then it was time to leave the day could not get better.

Ducks or Bats

2008-03-27T23:33:00.000-07:00

I was originally going to write about ducks or bats and past experiences, however i read this week that about 90% of the upstate bats are dying off this winter. They do not seem to know why, its between a fungus and a virus (West Nile?) either way this means bad news for those us who spend time outdoors as the bug populations should see an up tic.

Frankly bats scare me (a lot)! Although I have never really been hurt by one (or any other animal). I still do not want to be in a world with out them. It is not b/c of the bugs but rather i like how scary they are. When the last light is fading in the west (as opposed to???), they come up first one and them several and finally many, they swoop & swarm over under and around. They may have been here first.

I have now caught 2 of them the first i was unable to properly release (now with a cigar i just burn the tippet and know they hook will dislodge in a few days at the most). My wife's dad built and place many boxes around rivers and G/Cs and I think that is a good thing.

I guess it comes down to this they are smaller than us, and we should defend their space.

Cold

2008-03-27T23:05:00.000-07:00

The worst cold hits the Middle Atlantic by February, but it is mid March with its wind and sleet which hurts my bones.

We do have enough nice days to lure you off guard for an afternoon when the temperature hits 55 or more and then drops 30 or more degrees in a few hours.

A pleasant preamble precedes a prodigious precision of priests podding to avoid the pilgrims plunging purposefully prone to the present position along the pocked and pebbled pathway.

For some reason these days seem harsh but when comparing 5 degrees and the = wind chill factor. I will take the still night every time (well... it is always good to have a few windy stories to pull from.

I hit the trail at about 2:30 and made my way to first pool which was glass and below the freshet one would expect to find this early in the year. The only occupants of this open space (relatively) were deep in their darken caverns either to cold or shy to appear for the afternoon tasting.

I worked my way up stream with a determined and purposeful gate. Trying hard to work off the yoke of the past year. I moved well and made the usual casts in the usual spots, without a glimmer of attention.

As i moved upstream I found several new posted signs (life in the 00's). I lit a C and continued my spawn upstream depositing my hair's ear into to each pool and spill way. I approached on of the 3 larger boulders (to small to consider erratics). I came in from the tail and over the top and somehow fooled one of the larger hold overs into his first spring hit. I played him for a while but was not able to land or even get him up to a level where i could view my first jewel of the season.

Winter rocks, but spring holds the promise of....

March

2008-03-23T17:48:00.000-07:00

The last day of the pre-season is generally mid March in NJ. The day felt like leftover fall apples which had been crushed into the fields by the horses of winter.

The rain fell with a steady pelting all morning until 2pm when i reached the river. I was sure i would turn around, but the wind had relented for this one day after what seemed like weeks of unending venting of the past winter.

I thought what the hell, I'll "just take a look", stretch my legs, or....

Boots to the door & out to the stream.

The water level looked right and was reasonably in the very upper 30's low 40's. I wore my boot-foots and was happy to have slipped in & out so quickly. The rain was letting up and there seemed to be the old magic in the air. Cross the road, over the bridge, over the next bridge and down the trail to the stream. A quick line up, straighten a bit and add a small nymph (to small for March).

The first pool was freshly clean glass & even on this improving but still gray day it was transparent to the bottom. It is both a joy and unfortunate to see the best fish still tucked into the winter crouch of overhanging rock cavities. I could have walked up & high sticked them but choose to find a bolder somewhere and test out the behind the rock trick.

The cascades were as pretty as they ever are. The rock was pre season free of moss & the flow level about right for this sort of thing.

Upon the 1 st of the 3 likely spot i reached over and got hung up but then as they do the snag had life and pulled away. It was a good fish which i did not fully hook and knew it likely to get a away so i angled my rod toward the open water away from the subterranean scour. But he was gone. No matter i was fishing well and even more important outside and moving well!

2 week until opening day & HoHW i will be out there........

Rich Guys

2008-01-24T13:04:00.000-08:00

I love Rich Guys who live upstream from public water.

This Rich Guy bought both sides of a "known" native stream up north. He re-built & greatly expanded the old dam at the pond on the 78' USGS. He stocked it with exotic fish (for this brook - extra large Browns, Bows and even Graylings). The dam was going to be used to power his camp, which was more reminiscent of 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, fish tend to wander and in this case they wandered down into the public water below.

I found myself in a place where 10" natives are a rare find and more likely you work your way up stream fishing 6-7" 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 (or 18) humpy for this water and hit the pockets. Up here there are few pockets larger than a bath tub and only one which could be called a pool. You can't imagine the fun hauling out 18-19"+ fish from 2' pockets. These would be considered "good fish" you would be lucky to find on the lower river below.

After a comical series of hits including the trifecta (one of each - a Brookie, a Bow and a Brown), I came to one long pocket along a viscous micro chasm and knew right away that magic lay in there. The trick was to hit the lip 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". Life seldom works that way and i had not considered the difficulty of playing a fish like this in such small water (she was never meant to be in this brook).

After some careful play the fish rocket "launched" up and over me (I am 6' tall) and down stream to the pool below. What ever solid footing i may have had was quickly lost, mostly from shock at the sight of this great brown careening 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 her out to 22", slipped out the hook and guided her gently back into the water, knowing that i would never see a fish like this one in such small brook again.

Ahhh Good times, good times.

B is for Bucket Mouth

2008-01-19T09:04:00.000-08:00

They are the most popular game fish in the USA but i rarely fish for them। Not because i am above it or they are not worthy sport. They certainly present some of the finest early season & summer sport around. It is not because i live in the north and they do not reach the epic proportions of the south, and not because i catch my full when fishing for other fish.

In the early spring i get my smallest bead head and a relatively light 3 wt i circle ponds and lakes & i proceed to go sight fishing. Usually i know where the reds are and upon finding a suitable one sneak up and commence to bounce the bead off the head of my advisory. After a fews bops they strike and although you have technically caught them, the fun begins b/c you can't really land an unwilling 5 or 7 lb fish on a 3 wt. He can just back paddle and you could not real him on 2 lb test line. Often the masters of their domain will seek out a an underwater obstacle wrap you around a few times and break you off.

I then gently walk away so as to not disturb the balance of the nest guarding process.

After the eggs hatch the fry are driven into the shallows at the NE tip of the swell. During the day they are relatively unmolested but at night you can hear the woooosch into water 1"-3" deep and as often the sounds of a aqua creature scampering back to his domain from ours with all the associated flaps and slaps.

A is for Adventure

2008-01-19T08:54:00.000-08:00

When my daughter was young we would walk in the woods on journeys major & minor (mostly minor). She would always find a leaf or stone which would stop the Bataan Death March and allow her the joy to explore the wonder of the infinite of the wild world.

One time while circling a small reservoir we came upon a a 4 or 5" mound on the edge of the shore which she immediately recognized as an Island. Being God she proceeded to take joy in the creation of life and its development. Over the next few minutes (hours, days?) we added to the land mass until it was a full 8" across. Satisfied we moved on & never never revisited the world she had created and it was good...

Hewitt Track

2007-05-27T21:05:00.000-07:00

4 miles into the hike i realized Google maps might be wrong - although the bog was large 2nd only to the Flow Lands, but a whole lot closer to the city. As usual there were spots where you could go in up to your knees or worse. Unfortunately there was no central cascading brook feeding the flow nor was there even a decent spring but the hike was just the thing to get me into shape and broke up the day nicely...

I would consider trying the approach from the southeast side to see if there was any better luck but i doubt it.

January Daze 2

2007-01-11T10:21:00.000-08:00

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 this notorious toxic waste of a river became an actual wild trout stream. I parked the car and crossed the near branch of the river (which might pounded b/c it is the near branch), crossing a large field to link up to a wooded trail and the waters edge, where i rigged up.

The headwaters were as most are, more a brook than a river it ran gin clear with what had to be truly wild native fish. This is the warmest January on record (it was up until this week) and i set up with a simulator and a hare's ear dropper. The stimulator was for me to enjoy and the dropper for the fish. It has taken me more than 2 years to get this rig correct, including the rhythm and cast. But this is now my second year (w/ many more to come) with it working. 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 redds 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 astream, 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)astream 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 ofthe 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".

The Gorge

2006-10-23T15:18:00.000-07:00

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) walkway, 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 map 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 into the first one, and the 2nd was packed (which generally means to many folks on the water or worse hikers who ask question like "whatcha 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 life this fish from the water by the "kite string" I had him on. I worked it back & forth away from the weeds and into the one fast corner hoping to tire it. After about 25 minutes it came to hand the fish 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 fromt he aquafyier 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 someelse 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”, but I think it shrunk a bit in the hour drive. 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 this winter.

Slappin Wolley Buggers

2006-10-05T16:15:00.000-07:00

If you want to catch trout you need a delicate presentation / to be careful wading / have drag free floats / every thing needs to look natural...

Bull - when the season is right grab a bugger and slap it just above the tail of any pool or across the stream in almost any rock outcrop (grotto) and bang, fish on... In the next few weeks they will be very aggressive and on the feed, so get em' while they are hot.

Isonychia Slate Drake

2006-09-17T18:39:00.000-07:00

The last big bug of the year is the Slate Drake or Isonychia. I like the name but i like the action better. After several straight days of rain we had a break on Saturday and i managed to get out the weather was prime but the biggest surprise was how warm (relatively) the water was. Each year i press the end of wet wading season a bit further and each year i feel better about it. Bugs are not really an issue but watch out for the poison ivy / sumac / oak. it still can run the week for you.

I started on the stream i mentioned a few posts back it turned out to be fairly dead (it happens). The water "looked" right but it was from the top a dam vs the bottom and i could not feel any springs along the way.

So i made my way back to an old friend and fish up steam after a few fish and shooting some video I quickly passing the known water and moved up to the heavy pocket water and the major cascade / minor water fall (not sure what the cut off is). I took 2 very nice Browns (one on video) and many rainbows, some small some decent one that went 9" (no video battery was dead by then).

Fishing was / is great at this time of year first fall colors are showing down here and there is not much time until the leaves will start to mess up the water.

Here is some video of the day, including a few fish...

Enjoy,

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2006-09-12T15:41:00.000-07:00

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1st post summer hurricane rain

2006-09-06T15:07:00.000-07:00

The 1st post summer hurricane rain is really the start of the fall season. You'll want to head out as soon after the debris and fallen trees have been cleared as you can. Water levels rise and the temps fall from the terminal levels of summer. The big rivers drain the mountains and the smaller waters so give them a few days to clear to a safe level. The best bet is to find small water the day after the storm passes. Typically the water is falling (generally good fishing) and always sheltered from the wind which invariably follows these storms.

In the past I have written and spoke of “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. I was on such a creek this weekend. I have fished it to the point where I know where and even how many / how big the fish will be.

Casting well (for me) with solid pinpoint casts. However 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 to here had only raised one small fish. 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 – On small water I always 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 otherwise fine spots.

I 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 them let alone cast to one. On this day however I approached from above and fished the dry Ausable "wet" and down jerking it like Fran always preaches (this has 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 kid with a new “Slip & Slide”. I can not explain this other than to say it worked. I moved down to the open pool, where no man has ever taken a fish and again fished down & wet. I 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. Boy this was fun.

I moved downstream with the confidence which can only yield new ever 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 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.

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). Both may not make any sense in the world you have come to know but is that not the fun of this game?

Out with the Boys

2006-08-24T21:15:00.000-07:00

Andrew & David were up here for the first time and we made it up to the Catskills for some camping , fishing, hiking and a roaring blaze of a marshmallow melter. The weather was mint day highs were in the 70's and a low-mid 40's at night .

The rivers were so low that we really were not able to fish but practiced a few casts and even wet a line... At one point we walked over a 18" brown, a monster for the size of the water we were on. If we paid attention i think a hopper dropped on his head and he would have been ours. Next time...

Knot Sense

2006-08-06T19:31:00.000-07:00

How strong can a knot be?

Generally 5 years for Nylon is beyond any manufacturer's (but not a cheep guys) limit for the life of nylon. It is true that you certainly don't want to loose a big fish over $3.20. But recently when trying to snap out the "old" 5 x tippet, after a day of fishing and catching 4 local native Brownies 7-9" each, i gave the tip a good jerk vs the slow playful stretch and it popped as it does. Only this time when i closely examined the fly i could not see the eye??? I thought perhaps the fly was unraveling and just covering it, but it was not???

When i looked in my other hand i found the tippet and the eye still attached

How strong can a knot be, when the metal fatigues before the nylon???

Mid July

2006-07-23T20:33:00.000-07:00

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

2006-07-16T16:46:00.000-07:00

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!

2006-07-16T16:44:00.000-07:00

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...

Favorite brook

2006-06-23T19:56:00.000-07:00

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...

First Pool

2006-04-12T19:59:00.000-07:00

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 is so deep that one can regularly catch a 10 or 11" brookie from it.If your there in the fall 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 and Opening Day

2006-03-29T22:05:00.000-08:00

It must have been in the 60's here and the air felt like 3 weeks into the season which starts Saturday. I always look forward to the start of the season b/c although i do fish year round i fish a lot more in the next 4 months than i did in the last 4 months. Opening Day has a magic around it that is fueled by the long winter and topped with anticipation. Its all good until you realize that despite 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.

The best opening days were spent fishing slow & deep. On fine 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 bugger. If the water is high you might want to steer clear of to fast and or two deep until you get your sea legs back (even if you work out).

The last few years i have spent a lot more time watching the water and the other guys rather than fishing as this seems to be more productive and even fun. I have taken a few dips early in the year and while not as scary as a fall / winter splash you tend to has less ability to get out of trouble.

4 or 5 years ago i was on a local river that i very much enjoy even though it does not have a good reputation or many spots of interest. What it does have is several remote sections away from the road and a few holding impoundments a long walk from the road. It generally provides some peace and quiet. I enter at one of the most trafficked spots (I looking for easy stockers back than 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 due to the high water) and lastly 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 things were under control, until i hit the scour and my next step was only about a few inches lower than the previous step but the current quickened and the lip of the scour broke away. It was the first time i would go floating (but w/o a boat). the depth of the scour grew to several feet below my submerged size and i felt danger for the first time, so i tried to lift my feet to the downstream side and angled for land paddling as i went. Between the temperature low 40' and the effort (try it some time) i quickly grew tired and just barely managed to reach some scrub 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 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 that it was a pretty close call. But now that i was out i had a good story to tell and i do often. But more important i am now very much more aware of my footing, of breaking loose and the consequences. Not because i care about my live and not even because i care about my family but really just to get those few extra days in fishing unhurt. To see nature and immerse in it is actually amazing when the car is just down the road. Enjoy the opening and get out a few days after the crowds thin out a bit, and be courteous.

This is my idea of small Water

2006-03-26T09:19:00.000-08:00

White Tarantula

2006-03-22T18:20:00.000-08:00

My first fishing dream was a trout on a fly. Next was on 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, for he could not see me due to a small island bank between us at the tail of the channel.

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 that Trout truly had magical powers, were 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 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 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 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 it seemed that way 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).

So set some goals, and when "what should work" doesn’t, sometimes you just have to go a different way.

3 Wt's are Fun

2006-03-22T18:10:00.000-08:00

All my friends fish a 5 or a 6wt rods generally they are 9', and i guess if you are on big water or after big fish or 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 jingling object 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.

Known Pockets

2006-03-18T14:07:00.000-08:00

I love that i remember most every productive pocket i have fished. The problem is that I remember most every productive pocket i have fished. The reason this is a problem is that when you return to a piece of water and find no luck, or if other spots are not producing well you tend to remember where you had a good hit and fish that pocket or hole.

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

Head & Tail Rise

2006-03-14T17:51:00.000-08:00

The parking lot is only 20 or so horizontal 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 one way trip down. It only took a few moments (down is always easier). At the bottom I stowed my gear and set out on the water. The tail was mostly fast water just before the river precipitated into the canyon below. Just 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 in the day 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. Now 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 find float lines, calculate rise rhythms and drift my flies with out any noticeable attachments. On this day I took fish after fish to the point of absurdity, mostly they were small (12-16 a rainbow highlight 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. I reached for my trusty rain gear inthe back of my vest but 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. 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 it did not last and fish through it with only the comfort of a straw sun hat (zero protection) and a poly propylene tee shirt. I chose the 2nd route figuring it was early summer, the rain was light and how long could it last? Well the rain got progressive harder but it really was not that bad (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 dry fly with a white tuff on top for me to see it. I am proud to say I did not make a single cast until I had moved into position which took quite a while (there was no real rush as by now I had the river all to my self despite the quality fishing). 2 anxious moments simultaneously occurred; 1) targeting a fish for 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 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. Almost 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 last Head & Tail Rise I saw the fish come up, it was only then I began 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 as I have rarely heard. 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 started the turn which moved the fish head in to the current which quickly tired it and I reeled in a 21” brown. I can’t wait for next year…

One day I will write down all the things I need on the water (including 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…

January Daze

2006-03-14T17:37:00.000-08:00

I planed to follow the "55" 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 the 55 became a wild trout stream. I parked the car and crossed the obvious branch of the river (which gets pounded b/c everyone fishes it), I crossed a large field to a wooded trail which lead me 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.

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've never really learned how to fish water at the base of the falls, 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

My friends - "These are the good ol' days".

Old Guys

2006-03-12T20:09:00.000-08:00

It was a scorcher, in 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 and tied 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, when now 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.

Rich Guys

2006-03-12T20:08:00.000-08:00

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 "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 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.

1st Pool

2006-03-12T20:07:00.000-08:00