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Stud. The fish not the hooded dude. |
I wake up early enough for fishing that I often get to hear
overnight radio programming, which is definitely a throwback to another
time. This morning at 3:30 AM, I was
lucky enough to hear side one of (No Pussyfooting), a collaboration between
Brian Eno and Robert Fripp (King Crimson), in its entirety. It had been years since I’ve heard it, and I
got lost in the loops of space guitar—think the mature era of Bill and Ted’s Wyld
Stallyns, for which Fripp and Eno were definitely inspirations, and you
somewhat get the idea. I got so lost in
the analogue experiments that I neglected to read modern electronic signs
telling me that the PA Turnpike was closed ahead.
Thanks for letting me know Google Maps!
I downloaded Waze a long time ago, but old habits die slowly. After a 20-minute detour to Route 33 north, I
was back in business, but I decided that no pussyfooting was a good theme for
the day. A weekend warrior I am, and
that is a new challenge, but I think I rose to the challenge today, even when
the going got really tough and really small.
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One nicer fish on a bugger early, and then hours of dinks, many dinks. |
Not only did I get up at 2 AM to fish for trout, but I
chose a challenging location and paid my dues until I eventually cracked the
code. Honestly, I feel like I’ve made a
deal with the devil when it comes to this particular watershed. I have yet to have a bad day, and I have come
to count on catching multiple fish in the 15 to 20+ range. This river and I seem to have some tacit
understanding that if I make the effort, no pussyfooting, then it might just reward
me. Man, it did today! That is not to say that I didn’t have my doubts
creeping in. I have had dink days here,
but not as dinky as today’s early shift.
I stuck a nice 13-inch fish on a jigged bugger before 6 AM, and I had a
monster charge and not come back, and then it was probably 15 nymph fish after
that, not one bigger than 10 inches and most in the 5-to-7-inch range. There was certainly a successful spawn a couple
years ago, and probably last year too because I saw many uber-dinks chasing my
flies in the likely spots for YOY as I lifted to recast.
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No place to hide but broken water. |
The water was low and pretty clear, so the holes and runs
were not productive at all. There were
some larger caddis, but only some, and many smaller bugs, but fish were not
showing, not even the aforementioned dinkers.
I cycled through some things in the old honey holes, even fished the spot
where I got my first decent fish of the morning a second time with bugs this
time around. More dinks. It was when I committed to finding fish in
the riffles that things got interesting.
I have fished this place in June and only fished pocket water and have
had 40 fish days, mostly smalls and average fish, but it is still fun, and there
are often surprises too. I knew from
experience that I might find the random piggy hiding in the best water of these
same spots—little potholes and depressions, under overhangs, tight to snags and
bankside rakes of wood. I rigged up with
a bomb walts on the anchor and my favorite little brown nothing hares ear in
size 16 (it is dressed as an 18 or 20, I bet, just on a 16 hook) and decided that
if I was going to catch dinks then I was going to do it in the most fun way
possible short 15 dry fly takes or something.
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A couple more shots of the piggy. Clouds and sun, but mostly clouds helped too. |
Fun I had. Before my
expectations were recalibrated, I turned a big old fish with a half-committed
hookset. With that evidence that I was doing
something right, I focused on what I was doing and was rewarded with a good 20-inch
class fish from 18 inches of water. He sort
of behaved, sort of, and did not require a long, stumbling, downstream chase,
but the rest of the fish were not nearly so cooperative. Not long after the pig above and that opens
this post, I landed a skinny 18-inch hen in a foot or less deep pocket below a
large mid-riffle
rock. Pattern now established, I had a
blast for the next 90 minutes. I had a
handful of fish over 12 inches and at least 3 in the 15-16-inch class. They were taking the size 18 brown nothing
hares ear, so the anchor walts was dragging, I guess, and I eventually lost it
when a particularly angry buck got shallow in some snaggy bottom. I changed to a sparse size 14 French pheasant
tail on the anchor fly after that, and the fish started hitting that too, probably
because it cuts the water and gets down like a perdigon.
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More nice fish in the shallows. |
I lost another big male in the 16-inch range that leaped
three times and then found the only stick in the riffle to wrap around. It was a popular evasive maneuver because I
was fortunate enough to land another similar sized fish that I captured right
from the same stick as he fortunately dropped off into my waiting net. It was pretty bonkers for a while, and I was getting
winded chasing these fish around, trying to keep pressure on them while keeping
my rod out of the overhanging trees, and trying not to fall into the 57 degree
water. All good problems to have after such
a dinky morning, and no one said charmed had to be easy. I hope I did not jinx my next visit to this area,
but it surely warranted mentioning (and a little digging through past blog
posts to confirm) that I have not had a bad day here. It’s that kind of experience that hopefully helps
the future me push through a tougher day/morning and come out the end as an old
mitch grinning with a stud fish (or two) in his hands.
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Some insurance net shots in case they didn't cooperate and more nice fish. |
Big fish looks like one you have posted over the years; same fish, same background... good catch. I went to bed at 2am :-)
ReplyDeletePhone on the bank pointing up at trees so as not to give any spots away. I guess trees look the same all over NEPA.
DeleteThose are some long looking fish bro! The fish Gods are buying into your weekend gig!
ReplyDeleteRR
Felt good, RR! Thanks!
Delete