It's not just the trees that are changing...

So is my outlook on my angling capabilities. I was beginning to get a little bored going to the same places and catching the same fish. I guess it has something to do with the steps of fly fishing. Beginners are happy catching one small fish. The next step is many small fish. Then its one big fish among the small fish. Then its just one big fish (or other difficult to catch fish, like a wild stream that has never seen a stocking truck or something).

With Bass I'm ready for one big fish. I mean, its not a bad day when I catch a bunch of average guys in the 10-12" range but really I'm not excited  unless  I come home with a photo of a big boy. I've had two big boys this season for the spot that I'm fishing (big for where it is) and two REALLY big fish in another spot. It has been a fantastic warm water season without question, but calling my cold water season lackluster is an understatement.


If you haven't noticed, my main focus lately has been salmonoids. Now that hunting season has started in my area the rivers are basically empty, both for warm and cold water fishing. I was supposed to go to that famous river I love so much but a strong weather pattern threatened flash floods and dangerous conditions in that area. Though nothing transpired, I am ok with the fact that I played things a little more precautious than necessary because if that river is known for anything, it is known for how fast it can come up. The good news is that it goes down at about the same speed.

I stayed north yesterday, fishing a river that I fished for sunfish when I was 10 and visited early in the season with a friend. The first spot I stopped had more promising looking water in a half a mile stretch of water than I've seen. The water was skinny but had absolutely perfect habitat for big fish and small fish alike.

I waded up stream from an easy entry spot where I saw tons and tons of bait fish clearing the water for mosquito's and midges that were coming off in droves. There was a constant but extremely sparse hatch coming off of what appeared to be a tan colored mayfly. As good as the water looked, I put in entirely too much time on it and it didn't give up its secrets.


For some reason it is difficult for me to walk away from promising looking water that I absolutely know has been under very hard fishing pressure and probably holds some spooky spooky fish if any at all. For some reason I get locked in on where the fish should be instead of where they aren't.

Before I left home I had made plans to move if the fishing wasn't good, but I realized how much time I had spent in a spot where the fishing wasn't good and immediately packed up and headed to my backup plan. Of course, most people's backup plans are to head to places that they know have fish and that they know they can catch them. "Most People" isn't a description that fits me, I guess, because when I moved I found that the place that looked great on the map had basically no access that I could see. I did remember passing a small, hidden sign that said fishing access so I headed back to check it out.

I arrived to one other car there parked in the anglers parking. I got out, readied my rod, donned my backpack, and walked into some THICK brush and a vague path that lead down to the river. I waved to an old man that lived there as I walked past his house, which felt a little strange, but he's the one who sold the rights so I guess he probably didn't mind.

When I got to the bottom I heard voices and snapping twigs so I stopped as I saw a couple of spin anglers throwing spoons from the shore and the shallow water. I stepped out and threw a few casts before they noticed me. They said hello and quietly walked over. They mentioned that they had been fishing that area for a while and that it had changed dramatically from the years past when they fished it. He said they used to be able to stand on an island that was there and catch their limit of nice fish in the 15 to 17" range for supper pretty regularly but that this year with the island getting smaller and more trees in the water that they hadn't been able to catch anything.  There was a deep channel followed by the island which generated some small falls, riffles, and pocket water that looked promising with its undercut banks but apparently didn't produce at all.

The gentleman mentioned that they had a spot where they saw fish all the time but couldn't get to take their spoons and that I should try it with my flies. They offered to have me follow them over to show me where it is and show me where to go, so I took the chance and went. As good as the water looked where I was standing the promise of fish was too strong. We all hiked out to our cars - they had parked in a different spot than I had - and I followed them into town. We parked behind a large building no more than 15 feet from the water where he pointed and said "There, right there, you can see a bunch of 'em swimming around and rolling their backs. I can't get them to take my stuff but maybe if you put something on the surface they'll take it. Good luck!" After a few minutes worth of discussion about how we both love smallmouth bass they left and I walked down to the bank and watched as a pond of rainbows kept ducking in and out of some cloudy water and chasing something around in the water. They never came to the surface but would look as debris floated over and then head back down. Funny little fish.

I threw on a dry fly and had a few looks but no takes. I switched to a nymph and had one of them hit my indicator (I really need to use two-fly rigs for nymphing). No takes on the nymphs so I tried traditional streamers. My confidence was quickly going down as I could see at least 4 or 5 fish and none of them were taking my flies. Ultimately it was a gold bead head black woolly bugger that they liked. My first hookup resulted in a nice, healthy, and beautifully colored fall rainbow. I kept fishing and could feel takes but didn't get a solid hook set. I had at least 3 or 4 more takes, which would either be one dumb fish or that I had hooked every single fish in that tiny little cloudy pool that I could see. As dark fell I decided to pack it in and head home. My mission had been accomplished and I caught one more trout this season. If I catch anymore during 2008 it will just be a bonus. I'll keep trying and that will still be my focus but I'm satisfied now.


OK, so I didn't catch them drifting a dry fly over a pool or swinging a streamer through a riffle but I'll take what I can get. I caught him fishing like I fish for bass. I guess I just did it my way.

If my confidence wasn't low enough already...

This guy forgot his rods and still caught trout.

[famous local river] trip this weekend. Come join the fun.

The Seaducer Seduces...

... and Bobbies fly brings 'em in.

I find myself...

I find myself standing there, thigh deep in cool, crystal clear water, tying on a different fly pattern, getting wet through waders that don't really leak, just seep enough water to make me cold after 4 hours, and for what? To try to catch a stupid little fish?


That's how I feel right now. I went to that famous river, like I had planned, and I fished it, like I had planned. I had been practicing, getting mentally prepared, working on my focus by meditating and doing extended yoga poses.

OK, I didn't really meditate or do yoga. I had been working on focusing more and expecting a fish and not giving up on the drift before my fly was out of the water.

Today wasn't fishless though, I caught some kind of bait fish on a nymph. I'd guess its a Black Nose Dace but because my camera had just been under water and I forgot to wipe the lens off, the photo came out pretty crappy.


I say it every time, that I'm done trout fishing. That bass and sunfish are just as fun and I can actually catch them. I know, however, that the next time someone says to me, "Hey, how about we meet up at [secret meeting location] on [famous local river] and catch some big fat browns?" I'll say yes, fight currents, cold water, allergies, and pricker bushes just for the chance to catch a fish that has, for the most part, eluded me.

Here is my magnificent catch of the day.

Its In the Air

Standing outside, recently, I noticed that the sun, though still warm, wasn't enough to cut away the relatively cool wind (yes, wind, not a breeze). Its fall. And it's trout time.

I'll be heading to that very famous river this weekend, most likely. I'd like some company. If anyone is going to be in Washington County, NY and wants to join, feel free to drop a comment.

Slight Mishap

So, there was a slight mishap recently. Slight in that I accidentally deleted the database that runs my photo gallery software and thus, my entire photo gallery. With no way to recover it, I was left to rebuild it. Rebuilding it meant changing every single photo url. Something that is not exactly conducive to running a website with more than a few photos.

Thus, you'll notice, many photos in many posts don't work. I am working on editing in the new URL's, but it will take me a while. Please be patient.

You'd almost think I was ice fishing...

Went to the Hudson today, in the rain. Not pouring, just soaking. Apparently it was pouring just south of where I was though so glad it stayed away until I got inside.

I did more trout practice, this time using nymphs and drifting then crawling them along the bottom. I can add another fish to my list, Yellow Perch. I think I caught one through the ice on my friends tip-up but I barely count that.

I didn't bring my camera along (stupid of me), so a crappy, wet, cell phone pic will have to do. I caught one more the same size and four or 5 bass about that size. All in just under an hour. Its a very productive - but tricky-  way to fish. Even with hard hitting fish like bass a lot of the time I missed the hook set or didn't even realize until I saw the fish swim away that I had had a take. I only caught the perch on a preminition that there might be a fish at the end of the line.

Perch were caught on a flash back hare's ear nymph (kind of like the bead head flash back hares ear nymph I highlighted not long ago, but without the bead.) The rest were caught on prince nymphs. It was a lot of fun and very educational. I only had a short time today and with the rain it didn't make me sad that it was time to go.

Also, the neighbors from my trip to Kiwassa Lake sent me the photo of my first pike. Pretty impressive for a stranger to send a photo. He apologized that it was so blurry, but I don't care! All I care is that I got a photo of my first pike.

Don't worry, I was just getting ready to remove the hook, so I was holding the hook with the hook removers about to twist it free. I didnt have those things clamped on his jaw or anything. He swam away like nothing happened.

Not Much Gets Me Going...

It takes me quite a bit to get worked up but Foulhooked pointed me to a video that really made me quite upset.




Sure, intentionally snagging, banging the fish's head off the cement, dragging it around on said cement, then carelessly throwing it 10 feet down into water to watch it float, belly up, to the surface and then saying that they were following the law to a T is ridiculous. Especially in an area where fishing for salmon is getting a lot of press because of the very fragile and threatened nature of the fish in that region.


And just because I don't want to be the downer of the fish blogging industry (so many blogs are negative and sad, I hate that), here is a CLASSIC video.

Dry Flies Are No Longer My Enemy

I've always had this problem with dry flies. See. I never could hook fish.

I'm not sure - I really think it was that I was way too quick with the draw. I've always had a decent reaction time if I was focused but in this case I needed to learn to count before raising the butt of the rod (not the tip). How many times can you cast and perfectly drift a dry fly only to miss the hook set before you simply give up on the whole concept of surface fishing?


Today was my day, though. I was going out, sans streamer box, and catching fish on dry flies or not catching fish at all.

Orange Stimulator, and is that REALLY a largemouth?

Caught this guy on a Sneaky Pete... thats sort of a dry fly right?

My beloved sunfish, oh how I love thee. And you loved that Royal Coachman.

Practicing my dapping technique with a size 12 black Elk Hair Caddis. This fish hit so hard I thought it was a much bigger.

Obligatory late summer sunset on a cool evening.

Ok, no trout, but its a start right?! I got the timing down now too. The trick? Let the fish hook itself. Just keep the line tight until you count to 5 or you feel the tug.

Analyze This

I've come to the realization that all those jokes about fly fishing, the tug of a fish... no matter how small, the obsessions that come, are all way deeper and more true than people take them for.

There are days that I can't keep my mind off of the perfect drift and how my mend is starting to improve with practice. I can hear the rushing water, and often times, it is what helps me fall asleep. I can feel the pressure of my waders being pushed against my legs while I swing a streamer through a very fishy looking riffle and micro-pool created by a large bolder just beyond it.

Today was one of those days. Finally having the time to do some administrative stuff that I've been needing to do, I thought I'd really be able to relax and get into the groove and flow of doing what I do best - making technology work. Instead, as I'm tidying up an SQL statement to export data from one database into a format that allows it to be imported into another database without completely screwing up the second database, I drifted off to that place where fish rise to large dry flies in February and no one has ever heard of - let alone needed - a nymph.

I'm not sure what triggered it - was it my great day of top water fishing yesterday? Was it the monotony of writing SQL case statements for hours on end? I'm not sure, really. All I know is that it kept me to being only moderately productive and I never could hit "the zone" that I often can get into while doing that sort of thing.

A few nights ago, after another unsuccessful trout fishing trip, I had a dream. The dream was that I was on a famous river that I've visited many many times, floated down, waded miles of, and am becoming quite familiar with at this point. I was in a spot that I had never seen before and looked very Irish... you know... damp, long, lush green grass sprouting from dark earth filled with ancient stones. Deep undercut banks with the telltale eddies and slick water and free stone, fast current, riffly sections in the center, leading into deep pools at every bend. Pretty much the perfect trout water for all three major species in the Northeast the US. In this dream, I was casting caddis flies just outside the undercut banks and having consistent rises by football shaped brook trout, all in the 12" range but very fat. In my dream I landed 2 and missed countless other hook sets but I was happy and began to relax.

I've never gotten comfortable with trout fishing. Its a beautiful, wonderful part of our sport that really can challenge both physical, but also mental prowess as you're in their element trying to convince them that what you're casting is going to taste as good or better than its real-life counterpart less than 6 inches away. It really should be relaxing and falling into that same zone that I can fall into while casting at boiling panfish (bass included) or writing SQL statements.

It's confidence. I have basically no confidence in my trout fishing abilities. Sure, I've caught trout - 4 - but not on a frequent enough basis to really ever get comfortable. I can go out bass or sunfish fishing, get skunked, and not feel like I've lost my touch. I don't get shaky with excitement when I hook a warm water fish (except pike family, and I'm sure on my first walleye). I had buck fever when I saw rising trout back in May and nearly blew the perfect opportunity at rising rainbows that were freshly stocked and very hungry. That still happens now, but only with trout.

Those fish haunt me - its amazing that a stupid fish, probably weighing less than a pound in most cases, has the ability to bring a grown man to his knees emotionally. Its amazing that I've lost so much confidence with them that I no longer follow through with my drifts or swings. My friend Al told me that, on our last fishing trip, he noticed that I simply gave up about mid way through the swing. Every time a fish hit my lure - and that was many times over the course of the wade - I missed the hook set because it caught me off guard. I had been defeated before I put my two-piece rod together.

I don't know what all of this means, but it was time to wax philosophical on fishing and my own obsession with it. Isn't that what fly fishing bloggers are supposed to do?

Poppers, Poppers, and more Poppers

After getting skunked at my families property for the second time, I hit the Hudson right as the sun was dipping below the tree line. There was an incredible amount of surface activity, both bugs and fish, and it presented the perfect opportunity to fish a popper. The only popper I've got is a Sneaky Pete in a fairly large size that I purchased for LM Bass and Pike.

I had a lot of strikes but I think the fish's mouth's were too small to get hooked. They were mostly hybrid sunfish.



I hooked one decent smallie but lost him, then soon after hooked a smaller smallie. Didn't feel the need to take a photo of him since he was your average 8" smallmouth.

Then I hooked this guy...



Another species - A Fall fish. What in the world was he doing taking a fly this big? And how did I manage to hook him in the top lip?!


I had a lot of fun. I switched to a dry fly but by then the hatch was off and the fish were off the surface. It was getting dark and about time for me to head home to a wonderful home made dinner and cake. I had a good... no... great... afternoon and evening.

Stories From Inside the Blueline - Saranac Lake Chains

It was finally here - the weekend I had been waiting, hoping, and wishing for for weeks - nay, months. The weekend that kept me sane through a period of time full of chaos and uncertainty. It was finally here.

I went into work early on Friday so that I could get out early on Friday. I sat there and couldn't focus, couldn't stop thinking - or talking - about where I was going and what I was doing. Showing off a fly I had found at Orvis when I went up for a new tapered leader that was perfect for what my main goal was for the weekend.

That goal was to catch my first pike, and to do it with a fly rod.

Once 3:00 rolled around I bolted from work, eager to get going and to get things done. I got home and packed all of my fishing gear. I hastily threw everything into my backpack, grabbed all my stuff from my truck, and loaded it into my car. My wife (the same, wonderful one I've spoken about before), came bearing gifts. A new Plano 777 to house my tying materials and flies that had completely overrun the house, and a much needed fly rod case to house my oft-abused fly rods.

I re-loaded the 777 from my bag and we started out - only to realize that I had forgotten that big perfect Orvis fly in the visor of my truck. This was not the best way to start what was supposed to be an excellent weekend. I brushed it off as the one piece of bad luck on the weekend and we forged ahead. I had my tying stuff and had some of the right materials so all would be ok, I told myself.

We arrived at our destination, The Adirondack B and B at Cochrans Cabins on the shores of Kiwassa Lake, deep inside the blueline of the Adirondack Park. It was too dark to see the water but we could hear it as we lugged all of our stuff up to our immaculately cleaned and prepared room. The natural edged counter top of the bathroom and the presence of a book I had started reading at a previous trip (another favorite trip, pre fishing days) immediately warmed us up to the place and gave us a good feeling. It was going to be everything we had expected and anticipated and more. Because it was so dark, I decided to just tie some flies to prepare for the weekend before bed.

The next morning I was up before the alarm went off and immediately on the water. I expected bass and Pumpkinseed from the shore around the docks, so I was fishing with 6lb test and my 5wt with a messed up fly line. I missed a strike from a nice chunky largemouth on the surface. I tied on one of the flies I had tied the previous night - a big long strip leach type pattern (I'll feature it soon). I was trying to dig up another Largemouth when all of a sudden the line got very heavy. I set the hook on what I thought was just a nice bass when the fish exploded out of the water - a Pike! Unfortunately, that was all I saw of him, as he spit the hook and stuck his tongue out at me in mid-flight. Damn.

Thinking I had just blown my best chance at a pike (Even though I only had 6lb test on and probably wouldn't have landed the decent sized fish anyway) I cast a few more times but ultimately folded up the rod and headed in for breakfast. Breakfast was fantastic, by the way... veggie and ham frittata with cheese, side of melon and apple cinnamon toast. She also warmed up banana bread as a pre-breakfast. My god, it was heaven.

After breakfast we headed up to the room to change and grab a few things to bring with us on the Kayak's. This was one of the major reasons my wife and I picked this place (ok, she found it, just gave me the choice). Access to many lakes and ponds through the interconnected Saranac Lake Chain. The lake we stayed on is the last in the chain ans thus, not a throughfare so less busy. We followed the coast line into the channel that lead into Oseetah Lake - a shallow, weedy lake perfect for bass and, more importantly, pike. I brought along my 8wt with about 8ft of 17lb mono as a leader. The pike weren't known to be the 20 or 30lbers known around Canada - an 8 or 10lber would be a trophy, but that is still a big damn fish and I'd be more than happy to have caught one. I didn't, no climax to the story there.


I was trolling through the channel, occasionally casting to a fishy area, but had no strikes and saw no signs of fish until we got out to the mouth of Oseetah... we started to see lots of fish activity and I began exploring the extremely weedy and lillypad infested channel edges. All was good until a power boat came through and everything quieted down. We saw no more splashy surface boils from bass chasing whatever they were chasing, and heard no more splashes of whatever it was deep into the weed beds beyond what was reachable.


We continued trolling and stopped as the lake opened up. As soon as we stopped my rod went nuts - fish on! Be reminded that when you're trolling in a Kayak - most of the time your line is behind you. Not exactly the most comfortable place to hook and fish a fish (not being able to see it). The first pull was strong, very strong. It jumped and my wife said "its big!". I got very excited and flustered - I thought it was a pike and it felt like a good fish. By the time I got situated and turned around it had stopped fighting after taking quite a bit of line out. I knew based on the lack of longevity it probably wasn't a pike, and I was right. It was a nice chunky largemouth - the biggest I've caught - and I am happier than the photo would indicate with it. I hadn't ever caught a fish trolling or while in the Kayak so it was two firsts.

The weather started rolling in fairly heavily so we decided to head back. I trolled the whole way - nice and slowly - but had no strikes. Once we were out of the channel I cast at some nice structure but still got no love from those pesky, toothy fish. It really was a tough weekend for fishing. Despite the low pressure front coming through as a left over from a hurricane I think the swirling atmosphere really had the fish put down. A lot of the spin and bait anglers said they were having a slow day too until the heavy storm clouds passed by. We never made it back out in the Kayaks but at least we got a few hours, beautiful scenery, and a fish out of our one trip.


Back at the lodge, I decided to wet wade a little before heading out into town. I was really hoping for that pike to show up again but he didn't. The water was amazingly cold - for it being late summer and a hot weather system having just passed through I expected sort of warm water in the shallows, but it was still cold - I'd guess somewhere in the 60's - and felt more like water I had been in in May, not the first week of September. That's probably why the pike were active as shallow as they were. This lake is labeled as a cool water lake and as such, you'd expect to see, or hear about, trout being caught in the lake. To my knowledge there are no trout in Kiwassa - in fact, as far as  I know, the only lake with trout in it is the Lower part of the Saranac Lake, which has Lake Trout.

Sometime after that photo was taken - after we had gone out on the town and gotten lunch - I decided to head back out and fish from the dock again. The cabin next to the house we stayed in had become occupied by a group of gentlement who were anglers. As soon as they saw me, they all grabbed their chairs and moved outside to have a discussion over bourbon on fishing and all things about life. They were great, personable guys all older than me, and I enjoyed the company. As they watched, they began to say that they wanted to see some action, maybe a fish or two. I started casting along the edge of the weed bed just in front of where they were sitting and not long after, my line got heavy. I strip set and lifted the rod butt as quickly as I could and before anyone really realized what was happening, a fish rocketed out of the water by at least half a body length. I wasn't sure what it was but judging by its length, I figured pike. They all came running over as I began to subdue what now was clearly a jack pike. He was decent - especially for my first and being where he was. I'd estimate in the 17-19" range. Unfortunately, my camera was upstairs and my wife couldn't find it anywhere so come down and take a photo. I used my cell phone but that was less than successful. One of the fellows from next door took a photo, but they won't be home until Tuesday. I gave him my email and pray that he remembers to send the photo off. I really want to be able to document my first pike. When I say my first pike, I mean first. Never caught one before - only had seen one briefly through the ice before it broke the line on my friends tip up as he tried to gaff it. I had caught a pickerel, but it was tiny and it was last May, so a long time ago. I caught my first ever pike on a fly. Well on my way to being the next Barry Reynolds.

That night ended with a beautiful sunset and no more fish - even for the bait anglers who were desperately trying to show that they could catch fish too.

I forgot to mention, the son of the landowner and his friend had come out to learn about fly fishing and, just like I had planned it and right on queue, I caught a fish. They were impressed to say the least. They hadn't ever seen anyone fly fishing up close before - especially for pike - and their only impression of it was from A River Runs Through It. Once they saw that, they revealed that they had found where a lot of the pike were congregating over on Oseetah and gave me the location. They had caught a nice fish - in the 25-27" range (with photo to prove it) that day. I was impressed that they'd give a guest - especially an out of towner - one of their spots. I liked them... as far as bait anglers go.

The day ended with a sunset and we headed back into town to walk around and grab some grub for dinner. We drove up to Lake Placid and walked around a bit before deciding that the grocery store had all we needed for dinner. We were both pretty exhausted and wanted something quick and easy. I had flies to tie and ideas I needed to get into the vice before they disappeared and didn't want to waste time sitting in a booth at some restaurant. Seriously, now.

The next day I woke up and after an uneventful hour or so of fishing I turned and cast to where I had caught the pike the day before. I was using a different fly today - a white rabbit strip fly with a very long tail (extremely different from the black rabbit strip fly I used the day before). It was cold - barely above the 50 degree mark on the thermometer - and I slowed my retrieve down. Before I realized it, I had some resistance at the end of my line and another hammer-handle sized pike appeared out of the depths. My fishing buddy, Laney the Pike Retriever, got very excited and started dancing as I quickly fought and landed this small, 15 or 16"'er. I fumbeled around for my glove and camera, all the while Laney chasing the fish around in the water making it harder for me to hold onto the rod and control the fish. She just wanted to lick it to death.

 

Laney, the pike retriever, and my loyal fishing buddy all weekend. We spent many hours together.

Because of the temperature and what looked to be bad weather coming over the mountains we decided to pack it up and head on for home. We thought we'd just take the long way and stop in a few towns on the route. Maybe fish if there was an access that wasn't overcrowded.

There were no accesses that weren't over crowded. We did stop in a town - about 1.5 hours from where we had left, when the sun came out and the air began to warm. The sky turned beautifully blue and clear... of course. Now that we're too far to justify going back.

All in all, this was by far one of the best weekends I've had in... well... at least 6 or 8 months. It was a much needed and deserved rest for both of us and the perfect gift from my wife. I needed the break, she needed the break, and we both got it. Though we wish it were longer, we certainly aren't left with any bad feelings. I leave you with the rest of the photos. Thanks for reading, and enjoy.

 

  

  

Can you tell I fished a lot?!

Big Giant Mayflies...

And more happy things... report being typed.

I'm back, but the site isn't...

I'm back, I've got news, but it will have to wait until my mind recovers from what this weekend was - amazing.

The blog is still on hold... at least for a while. I do have a couple of flies for The Daily Fly Splat but they'll also have to wait.

Stay tuned... please?

On Hold (Again)

Due to the nature of my work, this time of year is extremely, extremely busy. No, I'm not a teacher, but you're close.

Everything blog related is on hold until after this weekend.

I will say, though, that this is my multi-species weekend if rains don't flood lakes and make small brooks into roaring rivers.  My wife is taking me away for my impending (is that the right word?) birthday. That's right folks, look out, nearly a quarter century.

We're going inside the blueline and my goal for this weekend is, at the very least, Largemouth, Smallmouth, Pike, One Salmonid species (even if its a Cisco, damnit).  Hopefully I'll also land my first Perch on the fly as well, but we'll see.

Have a fun week, expect some photos...