Monday, September 24, 2018
The View Downstream
It had been several weeks since I had been on the waters back home, and to say I was anxious would have been an understatement. with a flash flood only a month removed, the fact that changes could have occurred should have been 1st on my mind. As I drove down the access road and turned to cross the spring, I noticed it appeared that nobody had been through there in a while. But nothing really registered. Rigging, I did look out and notice that the stream appeared wider, and the hole below was far less defined than normal. still nothing. For some odd reason, I grabbed my wading staff. Odd for me on this stretch? It wasn't until I was 20 feet from the bank in waist high waders, my feet barely holding ground, and my wading staff humming and vibrating like a suspension bridge cable in a hurricane. That...is when it hit me. Things had changed. I was not going to be able to turn around. So it was either get across or get wet, as each newly created channel challenged me as I crossed.
Miraculously, I found myself dry, but exhausted and stumbling my way through the gravel on the far side. Pushing reality out of my head, that on the return trip my weaker side would be downstream. It was a thought that I really was not prepared to deal with just yet. Until then, I would fish.
The morning did not let me down. The water gave up 3 fat browns, all near clones of the 1st in the net. All of which took a #14 Apricot McFlyfoam egg with a Steelhead Orange yoke.
The trip back across was an exhausting 15 minutes. With one very close slide of about 5 foot downstream. Upon reaching the far bank I stood looking out over the water. At first glance it looked so unchanged and harmless. That, and the fact that I was focused on only getting a line in the drift reminded me of just how quick a situation can get ugly when we fail to pay attention after weather events.
Monday, August 27, 2018
Small Bass, No Gills
All bass and not a single gill on the night.
The dinks were on fire last night. Small bass were the rule....beating the gills to everything. Not a gill hooked or landed. An odd night for certain.
Last light gave up bit more size.
The fish were hitting with a lot more aggression than normally for this water. It seemed as if that aggression had the rest of the pond sitting the evening out.
Tuesday, August 21, 2018
And the icing on the cake....four fat little "post flood" browns came to hand. Ensuring me that all is well on my favorite water.
Nature has a way of showing us that water is unstoppable, and then in a mere instant, heals itself as if nothing ever happened.
My best to the folks back home recovering.
Its been busy!....But we are still here. :)
Thursday, July 5, 2018
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
Sunday, July 1, 2018
I decided to begin where I left off on my last visit, with the CGR 7/8 and Martin MG-7, rigged with an Orvis WF7F Warmwater line, hand twisted 12lb Trilene Big-Game leader & 8lb Orvis AR Tippet.
Starting out with a #2 Gurgling Frog.
The view of an empty lake launch as you fin away is Christmas-in-July, even if it was one day early.
The first few fish came to the larger Frog, but it was soon apparent the #4 Wog in its black attire was going to be the fly.
This fish has the entire #2 Frog in its mouth...tail and all.
On this morning, where I would expect some bucket mouths to be hungrily lurking, I found none. What I did find however, was several dozen gills with an attitude that they owned the place. Several of which, on hook-set I would have sworn were bass.
Gills in their post-spawn bronze are some of the prettiest fish that swim in my opinion
In the end I found enough fish to wear out my shoulder on a sunny morning with no wind, no fisherman and huge mats of untouched lilies in morning bloom.
As I was crawling out of my tube back at the launch just before 0900, two trucks carrying three kayaks and a 12' Jon boat arrived and a family was dragging a cooler to the end of the far pier.
The sun was on the water & it was already 93 degrees....time for breakfast.
Besides, none of these folks want to watch the old guy in the big "floatie" and fly rod laugh to himself and talk to bluegills.