This is just an update in my
review of the Vibram FiveFingers KSO shoes that I posted yesterday.
I finally got a few hours to spare in this unbelievably busy week, so I hit the stream to see what the trout were up to. I'd originally planned to just put on a pair of hip boots that I keep in my car at all times for just such an occasion, but then decided that it'd be a great opportunity to try out my KSOs (that I had on), in the water.
So, once I got to the stream (in this case, the Loyalhanna), I simply strung up my rod (Diamondglass 7'-0" 4wt), rolled up my jeans, and headed for the water.
The first thing I noticed was that the water was cold!
The second thing I noticed was the unbelievable amount of feeling the FiveFingers offered as I walked around the freestone streambed. Far better than the Teva sandals I normally use to wet wade, and obviously leaps and bounds better than hip boots or wading boots, I could feel each and every pebble underfoot.
Whether because of the individual toe pockets, the flexible sole, the zigzag siping, or, more likely, a combination of the three, I found myself walking around in the water far more naturally. While wading in hip boots is normally a cause for abandoning all fishing and worrying about secure placement of each step, the FiveFingers seemed to find solid purchase anywhere my foot fell on the slick, rounded stones in the Loyalhanna, freeing up my concentration, and allowing me to fish as I moved.
The Loyalhanna, like most freestone streams, has few, if any, jagged stones in the streambottom, so I didnt have to worry about sharp portrusions jabbing me underfoot, and the seperate pockets allowed my toes to flare a bit, increasing my footing in the silty sand that covers slower portions of the stream.
When I was ready to head home (or rather, when I had to tear myself away from fishing and head back to the busy schedule), it was nice to have such good traction for navigating up the bank in wet shoes. This, however, proved to be the only drawback of the FiveFingers that I've encountered so far: several times, I picked up stems of weeds and blades of grass between my toes. While it wasn't a huge issue, you definitely cant just bust through the weeds like you're used to doing with rubber hip boots.
When I got back to the car, I took off the shoes to see if the KSOs really kept stuff out, and was pleasantly surprised. While there were a very few tiny bits of sand and leaf litter in each shoe, the total amount was insignificant. In each shoe, I could count the individual bits of 'stuff' that got in. There was about 10 grains of sand in each shoe. Not hardly enough to notice. Overally, I was highly impressed, as I thought the elastic around the ankle would keep largers bits out, but allow silt to get all through the inside of the shoe. Nice job there, Vibram.
Back at the car, I took off my KSOs, dried my feet, and put on a pair of regular shoes, tossing the Vibrams behind my seat to dry. This was at about 6:30pm. Now, in the mean time, they were in my car, not in a normal airflow situation, but this morning they were still a little bit damp, something to consider if you plan on wearing them as an everyday shoe, or in extremely wet surroundings. I'm sure while being worn they'd dry much quicker.
By the way...I had one take on a #22 snowshoe caddis that I didn't get a good hookset on, and caught a nice healthy brown male on a #12 olive wulff. I saw alot of caddis fluttering around, in the #16-#20 neighborhood, but didn't see any trout eating any caddis. My guess is that standard caddis patterns will become effective very soon, and will remain effective until the first good frost.
...this IS a fishing blog, after all.
For a fly fisherman...that's a good thing!
Like I said earlier, I've been getting into fishing dries. After Jerry and I fished the Little Mahoning on Saturday, we met up again on the Loyalhanna, the closest thing I have to a "home water". No the fishing isnt always spectacular, but unless the trout are getting overpressured by the flocks of weekend anglers, I can usually manage to pull one or two in a full evening of fishing. Sunday was a nice day, and the fish were surfacing all around us...unfortunately, it was to something small and difficult to imitate.
Jerry was getting some attention with beetles and nymphs, while I was only getting limited glances at my dry and wet offerings. It was one of those afternoons where you burn through more tippet by switching flies than tangles, fish, or wear and tear. Finally, I managed to convince a fish, a 14" rainbow, on a #18 Griffith's gnat. I was pleased to have caught a fish on such a small fly, especially aftercutting my teeth in fly fishing on #8 buggers. At the same time, Jerry pulled in a fish lower in the pool, for a double hookup on an otherwise slow, but beautiful day.
We fished for a few hours with little further success...a few bites and rises, but no major activity...and after a while, Jerry headed up to his van and returned with his 3 wt. Diamondglass rod. I'd asked about the Diamondglass line before, so he made sure to bring it along for me to try out with the Cortland Sylk line he's got it rigged with. As we traded rods, me accepting the Diamondglass in return for my 3 wt Avid, Jerry advised me to take my time and slow it down, as the rod was considerably slower than most. He had a very light 7X tippet on, so I decided to stick with my MO of the afternoon and tied on another #18 Griffith's Gnat. I worked some of the mustard colored Sylk line out of the tip top then threw it into my first loop on the rod.
As was to be expected, I was a little quick on the draw, and the first loop collapsed ineffectively, running out of 'oomph' well short of turnover. Lifting the line again, I false cast a few times to get the hang of the action, finding it was definitely slower than my Avid, though not by a vast margin. Within a few more practice casts, I was throwing tight, delicate loops in the thin line, across the modest distance to the rising trout in the feeding lane.
Jerry seemed to discover this at about the same time, remarking that the "Moderate-Fast" descriptor didnt really describe the Avid exactly, and that he felt it was closer to a Moderate. For his part, Jerry had tied on one of his beetles, which seemed to excite the trout in front of him, as he had several risers come to the beetle as I got to know the Diamondglass.
As I fished with it, I found it to be a pleasant little rod that forced you to slow your cast down before you could appreciate its exceptional smoothness. My Avid is certainly more crisp, and seems to communicate better what it's doing during the cast, while the Diamondglass is seamlessly smooth and delicate, loading and unloading with an unmistakeable feel that manages to be definite and tangible but also silky smooth and inseperable at the same time, with load transitioning into unload without any distinct point at which it hapens. In short: while I like my St. Croix for its precision, versatility, and the way it "talks to me in plain language", I like the Diamondglass for its delicacy, smoothness, and the way it almost seemed to cast itself. The Avid is certainly the more useful rod for me, but, with enough space to cast and maneuver, that Diamondglass was a true delight to cast, and if I ever see one at a price my budget can justify, it'll be near-impossible to pass it up. I was casting Jerry's 3 wt. 7'-0", but I'd probably go for the 8'-0" 4 wt. to better round out my quiver.
As we fished, Jerry remarked a few times that he really wanted me to catch one on the glass rod, just as I wanted him to get a fish on the end of the Avid. While he eventually got a few bites on his beetle, I drifted that Griffiths gnat again and again, with only casual interest from the otherwise active, feeding trout.
Suddenly, though, with little flash, one trout decided it was time, and firmly attached himself to the fly with a quick rise and sip and the fight was on! The first thing I noticed was that the soft rod made a good hookset a whole new issue, as a flick of the wrist was just as likely to simply flex the rod as it was to actually drive the hook home. Lucky for me, the trout had taken care of that, lodging the #18 hook firmly in the corner of its jaw. As the healthy 12" brown ran and leapt, I was grinning from ear to ear, enjoying the grace with which the rod came alive with a fish on the line. Just as Jerry had described it, the rod "danced" as I fought the fish, eventually pulling it within range of my net. A quick scoop, and the fight was over. I freed the brown and was back to fishing quickly, but the memory of the fish on the line will be one that will make it hard for me to pass up a deal on a nice, light glass rod.
Eventually, it was time for Jerry to head out, so we bot made the walk back to the parking area, where we traded rods back and Jerry changed out of waders. For my part, I slipped my Avid into the passenger seat of my car, and, waders still on, I headed for Mill Creek. Fishing had been slow here on the 'hanna, and I didn't expect much out of the smaller creek to the north, but I wasn't done fishing, and I figured that Mill creek would be less crowded, even if it was slow.
Little did I know, that while I would indeed have my chosen section of mill creek all to myself, the fishing would be anything but slow...
After intentionally avoiding the heavy crowds of Pennsylvania's trout season opening day yesterday, I decided to venture out in search of uncrowded streams and salmonids today. I decided to head to Mill Creek: after being confined to the Loyalhanna DHALO for weeks, the crowded project water was the last place I wanted to throw loops. Driving past the several access points for the DHALO only confirmed my decision: every single access had at least one car (even the tiny pull off at the bottom of it), and the more popular parking areas each had several vehicles parked in them.
From what I could see, the stream itself didnt look overcrowded, like, say, the Walnut project water in Erie, but I knew that all of the best spots would have at least two guys fishing them. Not my style.
So I continued up to the back road that I normally have to myself to park and fish Mill Creek. As I rolled around the last bend of the unpaved road, my heart sank: no fewer than 8 cars, trucks, and SUVs were positioned anywhere they could get off the road, and people were milling about like it was a flea market. Adding to the flea market image were the two ridiculously large tents and a lean-to made from a tarp, all set up on the gravel bank on the other side of the stream. From the looks of it, these people had been here all weekend, and didnt look likely to pack up and leave. While it was possible (likely even), that the entire group was right there, and the restof the area was deserted, the best spots in that area are a good hike and wade away, and I'd have been disappointed to find them occupied. So, I decided to scout out new water, and check out a few access points I'd found over the winter to see if any of those might provide the solitude I was looking for.
The first place I stopped by looked promising, so I parked the car and strung up my 3 wt. There were two guys fishing a hole near the access so I walked down the trail past them and maneuvered into position at a hole down a few bends from them. I was using a white latex caddis that I'd had on from the last time I went fishing, but after a few minutes at the hole, I decided that something a bit bigger and flashier might be in order.
So, I clipped off the #14 latex caddis and tied on a bigger, flashier, heavier fly...a nymph/streamer/bugger abomination I dreamed up months ago at the vise. Based loosely on a woven bitch creek nymph, this fly sports fluorescent green in the underbody, a flashback, cone head, and flash & glow in the dark mateial for a short tail. After i completed it, I showed it to a friend along with several regular bitch creeks I'd tied for a swap. When he asked what it was, I replied, "Idunno...a psychotic bitch?"...a few jokes and wisecracks later, and the fly became affectionately known as "The Angela", after a girl I used to date.
So I tied on this #8 Angela nymph with some shot and some indicator putty and went back to work on the pool. Nothing...nothing...nothing...snag. As I went to lift out of the snag, the "snag" pulled hard and shot to the other side of the creek! The fish was hugging bottom and running for all it was worth. As it was at the bottom of over 3 feet of water, I wasnt sure how big or even what species it was, but on the 3 wt, it felt like a shark. Slowly but surely the fish tired, and when it decided to turn, it went all out, shooting to the surface and crossing a good 4 or 5 feet of stream while airborne! At this point I knew I had a lean, but healthy brown on the line, apparently well hooked too. A few moments later I felt the half-hearted head shake of a tired trout and knew he was ready for the net. I coaxed him across the pool and into my new Measure Net (a Christmas gift that has seen precious few trout since December 25th), and saw that he was just a mite over 12", with a color to him that indicated he'd been eating well since escaping from the stock truck. I was going to take a picture, but he seemed pretty exhausted, so I just got him back in the water as fast as I could after getting that Angela out of the corner of his mouth.
Not long after that, the two gentlemen from up above caught up to me, moving on down the stream, past the next good hole and down around the bend. When I got down to the next hole, I managed to get my fly hung up in some branches and, not willing to disturb the water, I broke off and tied a new fly on, this time a standard woven bitch creek nymph. I'd heard from a friend/mentor of mine that Mill Creek was home to a population of truly enormous stoneflies (in the #6 or larger neighborhood), and from the way that brown had attacked my angela nymph, I figured a #8 stonefly imitation would be a safe bet.
Well, I fished that hole for a while with no results, and from the way the guys below me were acting, I didnt think they really wanted to have to leap frog all afternoon, so I turned around and headed back upstream, past the car and into more uncharted water. I worked my way upstream, fishing a few holes unsuccessfully, but really, more interested in exploration.
Finally I came upon a hole that just looked "fishy". Its one of those things that need not be explained to a fisherman and can not be explained to a non-fisherman. There was just something about that hole that had me convinced there was a trout in there somewhere. Its the type of certainty that will take a nicely moving fisherman and stop him in his tracks in that spot, trying different drifts, casts, flies, sizes, angles...until it's too dark to fish. If he's got a flashlight, he may never leave. I'd even guess that a large percentage of fisherman even believe that this profound belief that they'll catch a fish in that hole might actually help in the process of inducing that fish to bite. Its all part of the totally nonsensical but equally serious set of superstitions that all fishermen carry with them, but few share with others.
In any event, I tried long cast, short casts, angled casts, two different positions, different weights...all without a bite. Finally, I settled into a kind of routine, casting into a current that swept my fly down under the tangled roots of a tree. Finally, i cast out and immediately saw a yellow-silver flash. A twitch of the rod and my second brown was on the line. This one was smaller, but just as pretty, and came to hand with plenty of energy to let me feel justified taking a snapshot before sending her back to her hiding spot.
After releasing this fish, I continued exploring upstream, walking more than fishing, until I hit a row of yellow posters, ending my upstream exploration. After this, I headed back to the car, noting that the other guys had left. So I headed back down, recovered my angela nymph from its branch and checked out about a quarter mile of the creek below where I'd parked. Eventually, I went as far as I cared to, and layed my rod against a tree. Then I sat on a log and opened up the bottle of Newcastle I'd packed in while I listened to the stream and watched a few squirrels, ducks, and other birds going about their business. Some time later, I got up, got my rod and headed back toward the car.
Along the way, I glanced down and saw an interesting sight. Too long to be a big or a crawfish and too thin to be a sculpin, I saw a little gray worm-like creature wriggling around in the stony streambed. Once it settled a bit, I saw what it was and grinned, scooping it up for a brief photo shoot.
I knew I was holding a freshwater lamprey, and that the little guy wasnt going to hurt me in the least, being a non-parasitic lamprey. In fact, the adults actually do not feed at all. After coming home, I did a little research and identified him specifically as a Least Brook Lamprey, which is actually a candidate rare species in Pennsylvania. You can read more about Least Brook Lampreys here, here, and here. At first, the one I found (in blue-black spawning colors) was wriggling around energetically, and wouldnt sit still for a picture. So I got him back in the water and lost my grip on him and he squirmed down and attached himself to my wading boot, of all things. Carefully, I got him off of there and he immediately got a grip on my fingertip. Once there, he was content to go wherever, in or out of the water, as long as I didnt disturb his suction grip. I got several pictures, then, of course, released the little guy unharmed.
All in all, a pretty good day on the water!
Angela Nymph
Hook: Mustad C53S (80050) or equivalent
Tail: Pearl Krystal flash and pink glow-in-the-dark flashabou
Body: Micro ultra chenille, woven, black on top, flo. green on underside
Thorax: Black micro ultra chenille
Hackle: Black, palmered over thorax
Case: Flash back, scud back, krystal flash...anything flashy
Head: Black Conehead
Picture to be attached later.
As some of you (primarily readers that are also active on the FishUSA Forums) may know, I recently put together a new, lighter fly setup, for fishing for panfish, as well as trout in small streams.
Sunday afternoon, I headed out to the Loyalhanna. I pulled into an access area to find 5 cars parked and empty with a sixth car surrounded by a trio of fishermen geting ready to fish. So I turned around and headed farther upstream. Up top, I had the parking area to myself, but a quick check of the water revealed that it was just as crowded as down below.
At that point my adventurous spirit kicked in and I made the drive to the Indian Creek DHALO. I was surprised to see two other cars in the lot, but once I got on the water, I didnt even see another soul until I got back to the parking area.
Indian creek was beautiful. It's crystal clear, with good depth and flow, and Sunday, it was the scene of a fairly steady scene of stonefly traffic
Indian Creek DHALO
In fact, the only thing the creek WAS missing was trout. In a few hours of fishing there, not only did I not catch anything, but I didnt even SEE any fish. So after a pleasant walk back to the car and headed for a local farm pond.
Action here was much better, as the warm weather had turned the bluegills on! I caught 2 or three bass and more gills than I could possibly count. I was catching a few here and there till I discovered a nymph they liked (flatteringly enough, a personal design) and proceeded to catch bluegills steadily for the next several hours. Here's a picture of one particularly large hog:
3 wt,
Avid,
bass,
bluegill,
DHALO,
indian creek,
loyalhanna,
St. Croix,
stonefly,
teton,
tioga
|
Managed to get out to the Loyalhanna today for a few hours (from about 1:30 to a little after 5) more to remind myself that yes, there is water in there, and theoretically, at least, there are fish in there, and that yes, in theory they can be caught...though not necessarily by me.
Fished from the swinging bridge down past the blocks through the next set of riffles first. Met a guy fishing nymphs just above the bridge who said he'd just gotten there and already caught one. After we returned to our respective cars (he, for gloves, and I to get my rod strung up), he got back to the water much sooner, and by the time I got there, he said he'd just released another.
"Great", I thought, "at least they're here and feeding. That's all I can ask for. The rest is up to me."
So, morale at the high point for the day (I didnt know that at the time, else I'd have made the most of it), I waded out a good distance downstream of my new friend and proceeded to work a laser egg across the rocky ledges on the opposite bank. Funny how the guy couldnt keep fish off the hook when I was in the parking lot...but now the creek was deader than fried chicken for both of us for quite some time.
Eventually, I got a tangle, as I knew I would. There are certain things that I was never meant to do in this life, among them dancing, singing, playing basketball, bowling, and flycasting a weighted rig with an indicator. When I try I get every last centimeter of leader wrapped around my rod, usually in opposing directions. Today was no different. After an embarassing few minutes, I got myself untwisted, and ready to fish once again. As I tried to get my line ready for another cast, it lurched erratically, and just like that, I was thoroughly re-entangled.
After a little muttered french, I set to work on my new tangle. Eventually, this one proved too heinous, and I just cut the line, snipped the fly and started from scratch. Seeing I had about 6" of tippet left, I snipped that too and tied on a new length of 5X. (My hunt for a good brand of tippet continues to this day, but right now the only ones in my vest are two spools, both 5X, one of Rio PowerFlex and one of Orvis Super Strong, this time, I'd opted for the Orvis).
So after re-rigging, I took extra care to avoid a threepeat tangle and executed an admittedly ugly lob out into the main current. That drift went smooth enough, though pitifully briefly, before drag set in and I had to flip upstream. When I did, you can probably guess what happened. Yep, three hideous tangles for one short drift.
This was all my bruised ego could take, and with a little louder muttering, I said, "You know what? F*** this." and chopped off the whole rig in favor of a weighted bugger that I started casting like a champ.
The rest of the day wasnt much better either. Lost close to a dozen flies with not even a bite to show for it. Got at least a dozen more tangles once I switched back to eggs, including one that claimed my leader in the name of chaos. Finally, after a backcast that tore my fly from the tippet, I gave the star-crossed day the final 'F- this' and headed for the car.
I guess its days like this that let us really appreciate the days where we're head back to the car in complete darkness, with the same leader and fly we left with, having caught 10 or 20 fish in the mean time.
I'm determined to salvage the day though: in a little while I'll be haded out to a little place with the best selection of imports and microbrews in the area.
Tune in...soon...for a review of a book I just finished reading this week!
Today was such a beautiful day, I was determined to beat the prevailing conditions (lots of runoff plus a few good soaking rains), and find fishable water after work. Of course, knowing that there was fishing to be done, the clock on the wall went into slow motion, but by the time 3:30 rolled around, I was off like a shot.
After stopping at home to change and get my gear, I headed out to check the Loyalhanna. Luckily, Rte. 30 pretty much follows the course of the creek from about a quater mile east of Kingston dam all the way to Ligonier and beyond. Though you rarely get close enough to the water to determine depth, I've fished it enough to tell at a glance what its like (based on color, reference points, and choppiness of the water among other things). From Kingston, things weren't looking good. The color had calmed down a bit, from "YooHoo Brown" a day or two ago to "Watery Coffee". Not that beautiful teal green everyone loves, but the color would work well for fishing. Unfortunately, the water, regardless of color was still very much high and fast. Though I could have found somewhere to cast from shore, I wouldnt have many options anywhere on the creek. Thus I extended my journey, and swung north at Ligonier to check out a favorite stretch of Mill Creek.
A short time later, I pulled off into some soupy mud to see Mill Creek, also high...but maybe...just maybe...manageable in hip boots. Taking a walk a few hundred feet upstream didnt reveal much encouragement, but the same walk downstream led to a few fruitless drifts. While I would have liked to catch some fish, I still was just happy to be fishing, so I headed on downstream, only to find that most of the promising water was inaccessible, thanks to the high water. In contrast to the Loyalhanna, however, Mill Creek actually
did have that perfect semi-opaque teal green cast to it, at least in the pocket water and deeper holes. I'd venture a guess that without major rainfall, fishing conditions on Mill Creek might be near perfect by the weekend. Unfortunately, major rainfall is in the forecast. So, unsuccessful but encouraged, I snapped a few pictures, broke down my rod, and headed for more reliable water.
Mill Creek
After leaving Mill Creek, I headed back toward Latrobe. The family of a girl I used to date owns a small (less than 1 acre) pond that they've been gracious enough to allow me to fish for several years. The pond is fairly deep for such a small body of water (I'd estimate at least 12, probably more like 18-20 feet of water, with a fairly steep grade from the bank), and it is home to a healthy population of fat, fiesty bluegill and 12-18" bass. I think the bass may be a bit overcrowded, since 85% of them are between 14 and 15 inches, but there must be enough food to go around, because over the past 6 years, I have only caught one fish that wasn't healthy as a horse here, and that one was injured by scrapping with another fish, not from some disease.
The pond is well maintained, and gets a treatment to knock down the rampant weed growth two or three times a year, but the vegetation still manages to claim the pond in the name of plant-kind from mid-July to late September.
Today marked the first day that the pond was totally ice free. I caught a smallish bass a few days earlier through a large oval opening in the ice, but now the whole thing was open for business. Darkness was coming in fast tonight, thanks to incoming clouds (remember the major rainfall I talked about?), so I had to work fast. A sloppy cast relieved me of the purple woolly bugger I'd been using, so I tied on a white #8, weighted, and moved to the downwind bank.
Several unproductive casts later and I said to myself, "Self, it's getting pretty ugly out, lets make this the last cast."
So I made a great cast (for me), stripped in a few feet in short, erratic jerks, then tended to spooling up my slack line neatly on my reel. With the slack in, I went to reel the bugger in, when I felt resistance on the other end of the line. Without a moment of hesitation, I executed a soft-but-swift hookset and felt the familiar head shake of a largemouth bass connected to my bugger. A short, but well-appreciated battle, and I brought my first post-thaw fish to hand:
This 14" largemouth really made my day. As I released him and headed back for the car, I couldn't help but smile. For the first time in months: It's Fishing Season!
_
We're having quite a heat wave here in southwestern Pennsylvania (temps in the 50s this weekend), so, like any good fisherman, I ventured out yesterday, searching for areas that the warm weather had opened up along some of my favorite creeks.
My first thought was that Mill Creek, being narrower, shallower, and generally faster running, would clear up faster than the Loyalhanna, so I headed out to Mill Creek. Unfortunately, when I got there, there was no open water at all where I normally access the stream. So, a little discouraged, I got back in the car and headed for the Loyalhanna. Luckily, I found some fishable water there.
After parking the car at the eastern end of the delayed-harvest-artificial-lures-only (hereafter abbreviated DHALO) section of the stream, I decided to scout around before donning hip boots, vest, and net; as well as assembling and stringing up my rod; only to find out that it too was unfishable.
So I walked down along the upper 100 yards of the DHALO, and what I saw wasn't encouraging: while free flowing mid-stream, ice clinging to both banks prevented safe access to the water:
Since the best looking stretch of open water was just downstream of the Rte. 711 bridge, I decided to check upstream from the bridge, and was rewarded to this wonderful sight:
So I headed back to the car and traded shoes for hip boots, slipped into the vest, and rigged up my 5 weight, and headed down to the stream.
I didnt catch any fish with the white woolly bugger (sz. 8) I was using, but it felt good to be casting again. I found that my casting skills hadn't suffered much in the off-season, and perhaps even improved a tiny bit by some inexplicable means. Though It could have been my imagination, it seemed as though I was casting farther and throwing tighter loops than I was at the end of last year.
In any event, I fished the 75 yards or so of ice free water above the bridge, then jumped back in the car and headed downstream to check the downstream boundary of the DHALO.
When I arrived at the bridge where SR2045 crosses the Loyalhanna, I once again took a walk before stringin up my rod. In this case, I was glad I did. The ice down here still made safe access totally impossible:
View from the SR2045 bridge, facing east (upstream)
View from the SR2045 bridge, facing west (downstream)
After heading back to the car, I drove down to the causeway, to check out the ice jam that had been forming there for the past several weeks. It had been a topic of discussion on the
FishUSA Forums in a thread complete with pictures, so I figured I'd take a look for myself. When I arrived, however, I saw that apparently someone had come and cleared out the majority of the ice, and the causeway was now actually driveable:
As you can see, there's still some ice piled up, but its nowhere near the amount that was there even a week ago. There was no fishing to be done here, due to the rushing water, but I decided to snap a few more photos before I left:
View from the center of the causeway facing east (upstream)
View from the center of the causeway, facing west (downstream)
With my pictures snapped, I got back in the car and headed down to Kingston dam, where I fished a little more. Most of the best fishing here is compromised by ice and/or fast flowing water, but just before I left, I started heading downstream, where there looks to be more open water. Along the way, while driving alongside the slackwater above the dam, I could see where all the ice from the causeway had gone. For about a half-mile above the dam, the entire creek looks like a glacier, with huge chunks of ice packed tight against one another, bank to bank. I didnt take any pictures, though, as I was driving, and there werent any pull-offs with a view of the ice jam.
Well, that's all for now. I'm going to be headed out fishing again this afternoon, and I'll make another post for this outing. No fly pattern for this entry (I only used a white bugger, a simple tie by any tyer's standards), but maybe I'll include one next time.
Feel free to comment or ask questions.
I figure as a good way to start talking about my fishing experiences, I'll tell you about what was probably the most rewarding fish I caught all of last year. It wasn't the biggest fish, on the best day, or even in a new location. What made this fish rewarding was two things: one, it was the first fish that I caught on a fly that I had tied; and two, it was my first and only (to date) tiger trout.
I was fishing Mill Creek that day, as I'd heard rumors of guys catching some trout there despite the heat that had been keeping the trout in the Loyalhanna down deep and totally uninterested in eating. I was working downstream, only bothering to fish deeper pools and pocket water, as the shallow areas were too warm to be attractive to trout, but even at that, it was shaping up to be a typical day for a new fly fisherman: no runs, no hits, and about a million errors.
I was just choosing flies at random, tying a new one on whenever I lost the one before that up until that day. The evening before, however, I was talking to Rich in his fly shop, and he suggested sticking to ants, beetles, hoppers, and buggers for these hot summer days. So I bought a few of his ants and beetles along with a griffith's gnat that appealed to my fancy, and headed home to tie some buggers. By the time I put my boot in the water the next morning, I was armed with a box consisting of the flies I'd purchased from Rich and about 15 wooly buggers, in varying styles (all showing the sloppy roughness of a beginner tyer), in black, white, and olive.
By the time I got to my first really nice pool, I'd lost about a half dozen flies and was now tossing a modified olive wooly bugger with a front body made of a series of purplish glass beads. A friend and fellow fly fisherman named Mark had shown me this tie, and said that the guy who showed him claimed it imitated a baby trout. While that may be so, I wasnt sure if a hatchery fish would even connect the thought "baby trout" with the thought "food". Still, it was neat looking and easy to tie, so I did a few of them up that still managed to look like crap due to my being a beginner.
So I took my baby trout and tossed it to the tail of this pool, and as I stripped it back to me, around a submerged stump, a dark shape darted out, almost too fast to realize what it was, and disappeared again, with my fly! A good strong battle and a few tense, long, moments later, and I brought my first tiger to shore:
After posing for its photo shoot (just this one picture), this fish was released to fight another day.
For anyone curious, the Tiger Trout is a sterile hybrid of a male brook trout and a female brown trout. You can read more about them here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiger_trouthttp://tigertroutfishing.com/http://ezinearticles.com/?Fly-Fishing-For-the-Elusive-Tiger-Trout&id=1668954Finally, that baby trout bugger:
Hook: Mustad 79580 or equivalent, sz. 6-10
Thread: 6/0 (140 Denier) in Black or Olive
Head: 3-5 glass beads, pearlescent purple
Body: olive medium chenille
Tail: Olive Grizzly Marabou (4-8 strands of gray krystal flash optional)
Hackle: Olive or black streamer hackle, wound either from the head, or from the beginning of the chenille.
Not a difficult tie by any means, but that's what caught the tiger!
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