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...
This morning I made the drive up, farther than I normally go for trout, to the Little Mahoning creek in northern Indiana County. I was meeting J, a friend from both a previous fishing adventure in Erie as well as the vast melting pot we call the internet. He's both an extremely knowledgeable trout fisherman and an extremely talented writer who shares many of his adventures with anyone who cares to read
his blog.
Recently, I've become interested in tackling dry fly fishing, and, along with several others on the
FishUSA boards, J has stepped up and offered all sorts of valuable tips and suggestions. His offer to join him on the Little M was eagerly accepted. As I made my way up Rte. 119 my excitement grew, until i reached the stream, where I noticed J's motorcycle parked in the gravel between the road and the stream. Quickly, I parked, got out, and started donning my gear, thankful that I had my 3 wt. already strung up, riding VIP-style in the passenger seat for the trip this morning.
After i had my waders and vest situated, I got back in the front of the car for the pair of #18 para-sulphurs I'd tied the night before. (Which, by the way, looked damn fine for a first attempt at a #18 parachute tie, if I do say so myself...). I checked the passenger seat, the cupholder, the center console...even the glove compartment. Rats! No sulphurs! Suddenly, in my mind's eye, I could see the otherwise empty Dai-riki hook box, sitting all alone on my tying desk. With a sigh and a mental shrug, I abandoned the thought of using the little yellow flies today. Retrieving my rod from the car, I noted that in my excitement, I'd totally neglected to even open the lid of the coffee I'd brought along, a rarity indeed for this caffeine junky.
As I finished donning the armor of a fly angler, the man across the stream (who I'd already seen bringing a trout to hand) called out, "You wouldn't happen to be Mark, would you?"
"That's me", I replied, figuring that this was probably J, who I'd only ever met once before.
A pause, then, "Cold, right?", a nickname I have gone by on websites across the internet for years.
"Yup."
"Get down here, man! They're all over the place, and they're rising!"
Even more excited, I made my way over, and after a brief, no-nonsense greeting, we got to the task at hand. The fish were active, and more "stacked up" that I was used to seeing. Feeding, but managing to be choosy just the same. I got several tips and suggestions and a few flies (which I tucked away to use as patterns), and managed to raise a few fish, but missed the few that actually took. After some time, J headed off downstream. I fished the tail of the pool to let him get a good lead on me, then slowly followed, taking a drift through any water that looked promising. At one point, something rose to my parachute adams, just enough to disturb its downstream voyage and make a few ripples. It didnt sink the fly, but it was definitely a fish. A few drifts later, the fly went under and I set the hook. All at once, I felt the weight of a fish...barely. The tiny 2" minnow came out of the water behind line, leader, and fly as I set the hook...landing at my feet. With a little disappointment, I freed the little guy and continued on, eventually meeting back up with J at a nice, deep little pool.
"There's two real nice ones in there.", came the greeting of a true fisherman, as he crouched beside the pool, throwing some sort of light colored nymph into the head of the pool, "Here."
J offered his polarized glasses which helped me realize that the two dark-colored "rocks" in the back of the pool were actually large trout. At first I thought they were motionless, but little by little, I noticed them working the bottom, though not nearly as active as the mess of trout sharing the pool with them, feeding higher in the water.
After a few moments, he instructed me to cover the lower half of the pool, showing me the albino nymph he was using and giving me one of my own to try. I seemed to be getting more attention by swinging my albino nymph rather than drifting, so I went with it, and soon had 3-4 energetic browns nipping at my offering as it crossed in front of them.
Finally, one, braver than the rest, darted forward and bit hard.
"All right!", I exclaimed, letting J know I had one on. Soon after, I brought a 14" brown to the net.
We continued to fish that hole for some time, J hooking up with several fish, before finally, he had to head out. He gave me a second albino nymph, just in case, and headed back toward his bike.
As for me, I felt certain I could persuade at least one more fish in this pool, so I stuck around, continuing to work the albino nymph, with a small piece of shot a few inches up the line. Every few swings through the pool would attract a crowd of interested, but hesitant trout.
Finally I decided to drift it straight into them rather than swinging past. Just before it got there, however, a large dark form rose and intercepted the nymph purposefully and without flair. CHOMP! In disbelief, I set the hook and the battle was on!
The big fish gave me the obligiatory head shake then pulled me purposefully into deeper water. He was headed upstream, so I just maintained constant pressure and let him fight the current. At the top of the pool, he gave another head shake, then tried to nose into slower water on the opposite shore. With a fish like this on a light rod, I used a few bits of wisdom learned from steelhead fishing, where you want to make the fish fight you AND the current, and not give him a rest to regain energy, otherwise he'll fight all day. Using what backbone my 3 weight offered against such a large fish, I got his nose into the faster water, which got him once again swimming hard, this time toward me.
I stripped in line as he got to my side, but then he saw me moving and then he showed me a whole new set of gears. He als showed me a good side view, and it was then that I saw some markings that made this a special fish indeed: the worm-like pattern of a tiger trout.
Before I could dwell on it too much, though, he darted downstream fast as a fish half his size, and it was then that I realized that from stripping, I had a pile of slack! Bad move, Mark!
With the best approximation of drag I could muster with my hands, I gave the fish line, and even took half a step at following him downstream. Just then, he turned back into the pool and dove deep and I raised my rod tip accordingly. While he was down, I took the change to furiously reel in the slack at my arms and finally get this fish "on the reel". After another moment of thought, I tightened my drag down a touch. Still, plenty light to protect my 5X tippet, but with enough stubbornness to keep him occupied should he decide to run again.
Back more or less to where he started, the big tiger tried to lay low and catch his breath. He seemed stuck fast to the bottom, and for a moment, I feared he'd looped me around a rock or log. Then the sensitive tip of my St. Croix felt a slight headshake, and with a grin, I applied some sideways pressure, which aggrivated him into another run, swooping in a wide curve, up and out of the hole, this time, the drag on my Tioga reel clicking at a good pace.
Again at the top of the pool, the tiger and I both realized that he had run out of tricks...and space...and he became content to make like a smallmouth, and make quick, powerful pulls into the deepest water he could find, his bright orange belly occasionally betraying his position in brief flickering reflections. It was all I could do to hang on at this point and enjoy the fight, as my Avid rod did most of the work, "dancing", as J likes to describe it, as it matched the tiger's fight move for move. I was grateful for the softer action of the Avid rod as the big trout darted around, attached to the light tippet.
For the first time, the brute showed some signs of fatigue, allowing himself to be lifted to the surface. Just as fast, though, he'd nose back down, as if to show me he was still the boss. Each time he came close, I'd get the net ready, and each time, just as I was about to scoop him up, he'd charge off, back to the deeper water, and it was all I could do to stay connected.
Finally, the runs became shorter, and I was able to keep the net with him, and just like that, the battle was over.
After posing for a few shots, the stubborn old fish was gently lowered back into his stream, and held there gently until he'd caught his breath enough to hold position in the faster current. After release he sat motionless in the side of the pool, getting his bearings for a few minutes, then gracefully drifted back to the same position he started in, looking much like the rock he appeared to be, before he saw my albino nymph...
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:
