Prospecting for Steel

Prospecting for Steel
Oct. 11, 2009

There was a woozy feeling in my noggin when the alarm went off in the wagon. It took a moment or two or three to figure out why I set the clock so early anyhow? I then recalled I was to meet Flyfishingdave and bugdrifter for some prospecting for steel in the middle part of Elk Creek around 6:30am. The alcohol consumption the night before was still having that woozy effect in my head. I’m sure the tequila was the culprit and not the wine or beers I drank. I broke camp just about daybreak and got the wagon moving. After stopping at the nearest town merchant for a cup of joe, I headed in the direction of our meeting place. The hot dark roasted coffee was a wake up call compared to the tea I’m used to drinking in the morning.
There were a few other wagons on the stable grounds when I rolled in. Anxious 09’rs were gearing up to search the crick for steel also. I got out of the wagon and proceeded to putting my prospecting gear on and assembling my tools. I put a chaw in my mouth and headed through the brush. Down at the crick I saw Flyfishingdave and bugdrifter right off. They had already staked claim in the first deep large pool. They evidently woke up before the cock crowed to lay first claims. When I was close enough they said they had already picked up a few and lost some. I joined in to help them uncover some more steel.
Ffdave would produce a chunk of steel now and then with his tandem set up while bugdrifter seemed to be pulling on fools’ gold below the surface. He would continue to pan the very bottom of the crick and continued to hook up with rocks and snags more than with steel. He rerigged often enough that he was getting short on some of his supplies. I searched along with them and finally hooked up with my first drift with an orange thorax hares ear nymph. It didn’t take me very long to lose both the steel and the nymph to bad knots. We continued our search in the area showing a few chrome for our efforts. Around 10:00, I’d say, dream catcher and Tex Cobb showed up, dream catcher was carrying a mug of coffee along with his gear.
Eventually ffdave moved up crick with bugdrifter soon to follow. I kept claim to the large pool with DC and Tex Cobb joining in to help pick up some steel. After a bit I was rerigging on an old log when DC found a whopper. With the fly rod bent the steel showed him the way around the pool. DC hung on and circled the large pool at least once trying to muster up the big brute. After a while DC figured it might have been foul hooked and tried forcing it in which only broke him off. Don’t really know if the steel was foul hooked or not but it sure was comical watching the big steel towing DC around the pool area the whole time.

I headed up crick and spotted ffdave and bugdrifter staking claim to a long run of faster moving water. I watched as ffdave hooked onto fresh steel. Keeping his rod high and line out of the current as much as possible, he fought the steel as well as any seasoned prospector would. He got the steel to shore and the morning sun glistened off the wetness of its chrome steel side. The bluish hues along its back proved its freshness as well as the clean silver sides. He held it firmly before releasing it on its own free will. Just then bugdrifter hooked into and brought a nice one to shore. Olive buggers seem to be the attractor in the faster run of water. Downstream from ffdave I drifted an olive bugger through and hooked up also. We found that drifting the buggers in that long stretch of water produced more steel than in the slow long pool area.
Pretty soon DC and Tex Cobb moseyed on up and started panning the waters below me. A few minutes later Jokerball101 and rookie showed up to try their luck also. After about an hour loopy came walking down from upcrik and he and bugdrifter started to jabber jaw. Loopy casted into the long run and just as quick pulled out a chunk of steel. We hung around a little longer but our bellies were rumbling for food. About 12:30 ffdave, bugdrifter and I headed back to their camp for some grub.

After a bowl or two of ffdave’s chili to warm us up we headed back out to Elk for some more steel searching. Bugdrifter and I decided to do some exploring up crick to unknown territory to us. We left ffdave in the lot as we packed up our gear and headed up crick. We passed a crowd of tin pans and even kept hiking passed some water that looked like it might hold steel. We were in search for a mother load, should there be one, and continued our venture up stream.
Bugdrifter found some shining steel in a partial deep tail out of a long narrow stretch of rumbling water. I don’t know if it was my trout finding instincts or streamside awareness but the area looked good where I was to begin my search. In the narrow stretch of water there were a few down logs along the far bank along with some shore line brush. I tied on an olive bugger and drifted it up against the downed logs and through the faster water. I noticed something following it when it got to my side of the stream and out of the fast run. I stood motionless until it gave up and returned into the faster water. On my knees I roll casted the bugger again and kept as much line out of the water as possible. From under the white capped water I felt a good strike and connected with a good chunk of steel. Forcing him out of the fast current was a good challenge and after the squabble of who’s who, I landed it successfully. With another search I missed a tug. I called down to bugdrifter and motioned to him that I came across a fertile claim that needed explored further. I was still in the mood for more exploring and left the claim when bugdrifter moved in.
Continuing up crik I came across an old tin pan and his two boys. His boys were having some success producing steel in a deep pool as he sat on a log observing. I worked the bank on my side of the crik but didn’t come up with any chrome. When they left with their successful catch I walked above the falls and was proceeding to cross the crik when out of nowhere an old geezer came out through the brush and jumped claim. ‘No matter’, I got to the far bank and continued my search upstream.
Moving slowly, on the bank, I kept my eyes searching the calmer, opaque waters for a glimmer of steel. I found a dark gray mass strung out about 30 feet off shore in a good seam. From upstream I worked a bugger within the area without success. I tried a few other imitations but failed to lift any steel.
’Maybe a little sparkle’ I thought.
With a bead-head yellow meth I roll casted out to mid-stream and mended upstream which put the meth in the current seam before the gray mass. I held back the line for a nice slow presentation. The meth disappeared into the gray mass and my fly line tip sank instantly with conviction. With a healthy lift I felt the resistance or a heavy steel nugget. The gray mass dispersed with the implosion within. Chrome glistened beneath the water from the penetrating setting sun rays. The rod bent instantly in an arc into the top quarter. The steel shot to my side of the bank in the confusion and I got a better glance of the big find. A quick turn, with lightning speed, the silver nugget headed for open water. The rod flexed into the mid section of the 9 ½ footer as I let line slip through my fingers with slight tension. The slack line went through the guides quickly and I was soon palming the spinning fly reel with the escaping nugget already ¾ down and across the stream. It was if the steel stopped momentarily just before I watched it eject itself out of the shimmering water. Light glistened off its wet chrome sides as droplets of water sprayed outward of the air born steel. Reentering the water it got its bearings and shot upstream. I quickly brought in loose line through the eyes to catch up with the quick moving steel heading my way. Directly in front of me the water rose like a geyser as the steel showed its ascending power. I tightened up my grip on the cork as he fell back into the water expecting the next burst of energy. The steel bolted upstream as the line ripped thru my curled fore finger up against the rod shaft. The steel was exerting high energy as I kept the fight to his side. On his next bolt I let him fight the rod and the reel drag. He finally turned and suddenly came towards me in a heap. I backed up nearer the bank to give him more room to continue his quarrel. We argued with pulls and tugs until I finally slid him into the shallower water, my rod bending possibly beyond its limits. I reached down and detached the hook from its inside lip skin. Before I was able to grab him, with a tail slap he propelled himself back into the open water.
As sun dipped further behind the tree tops I caught a couple more smaller nuggets when I noticed steel starting to move upstream. In distorted oblong figures I watched as they slowly stopped now and then to rest. A long dark steel caught my eyes ¾ the way ‘cross stream. I flung the yellow bead-head meth upstream calculating about 8 feet of leader. I mended a good arc of line upstream to put the meth within sight. I assumed the meth was directly across from me when I seen the big steel starting to move upstream again with the others. My drifting line stopped and the tip started to move upstream. With my left hand I quickly took in slack before raising my rod higher and setting the hook with a back whip of the rod. I seen the tail end of the steel dart upstream like a spooked fish, with my line following. With line slipping through my fingers in a smooth motion I tightened up the line momentarily and quickly pulled back to let the steel know I was tracking him. The rod force was unexpected and stunned him from moving upstream in his casual manner. I could picture him as stubborn as a mule trying to be guided in a direction he didn’t want to go. He was in no mood to cooperate as his head and thick shoulders surfaced with awkward, uncontrollable, rowdy pulls and jerks. He was like an agitated bucking bull. I kept fine tension as he fought more in his own made turbulent water.
‘I wasn’t letting this big one get way!’
He turned downstream and I lifted the rod to take up line tension. He turned again into view then lay suspended into the current straight out from me. After winding in some slack I tightened up the drag a little tighter. I pulled back on the 7wt. with just enough force to not let the leader break. The steel stayed put in the current. Here I was again with big steel that wouldn’t budge. There I was looking like I was hooked onto a log jam. I was sure, with the side pressure, I had to be doing something to tire him out in the current. Slowly the steel made his way towards me as I slowly wound in line. Near the shore he turned and forced his way back downstream. We played the old tug of war with me finally winning out getting him close to shore. He wasn’t going to give up just yet and forced his way back out a bit. I had enough of the warfare and decided to force the issue. We had a good long battle and if I lose him so be it. I backed up onto dry land as the rod flexed more near the butt section. The line was as tight as a bow string. I was gaining ground until the steel felt the pebbles beneath its belly. As if giving me a last wave with his tail he flung water trying to build up energy. I felt the rod flex even further waiting any moment for something to break. My bare hands gripping the cork handle tightly as I could feel my forearm muscles tighten beneath my skin. I refused to let my arms drop in submission with the steels last jolt. The big fish was slowly backing up towards me trying desperately not to turn its body. Then it turned downcrik and with one more burst of energy and headshake he broke free. My line flung back as the big male swam back into the flowing water. Later with one more landed I decided to head down crik to see how bugdrifter was lucking out.
Wading down stream, around a bend, I came to find bugdrifter with a bent fly rod and a weary face. He said he had been fighting the big steel for at least 10 minutes in the same narrow channel I had left him in. I grabbed the net and waded in behind the steel. I could see the brown bugger hooked into the corner of its lips. Twice bugdrifter tried to ease him back into the net but twice the big steel jolted forward. After the third attempt the steel gained enough line to get him into the faster current and the leader snapped. Somehow the line got caught up in the reel and failed to release upon the escaping steel. Bugdrifter said he had stayed put the whole time and found quite a few steel in the claim.

With the fading light upon us we trekked back to the fast run we had met with ffdave before noon. Bugdrifter drifted a bugger through the middle of the crik as I followed from upstream. I just got done tying on a gray bodied, blue marabou tailed bugger when a steel splashed up against the far bank. Bugdrifter as well as I seen the steel as it fell back into the water. My second cast fell upstream against the shale cliff. I watched the line swing into the steels vicinity and when it stopped I yanked back and set the hook. The steel came shooting out of the water like a fired cannon ball. Silver shined from its sides as it splashed down. Within seconds it came shooting out of the water again and again splashed like a cannon ball into the water. The action so fast I hadn’t time to think about how to react to such actions. My line was slack as the steel again shot up from beneath for the third showing. I found my line never did tighten up again after the first initial find. “Oh well, quick release” I said to bugdrifter as he watched on. Drifting buggers as we waded downstream steel surfaced against the far bank. In a mid back-casting position I laughed, so bugdrifter could hear me, and directed my cast towards the splash. Another hook up and the steel surfaced rising out of the water. After a short fight I almost got him to the bank before he set himself free.

With that we hustled to the stables before it got to dark. Ffdave had pulled his truck to my wagon as I was changing into riding wear. We talked about prospecting in ’Fisherman’s Paradise’ and the Little J some time next spring. They were spending another night at camp and were prospecting again Monday ’till noon before heading back south east towards their home. I had about 1 ½ hour drive home, so I bid them fare well and got the wagon rolling again.
Rolling east on I90 I reached in the cooler and pulled out a half eaten sandwich from the day before. After a good swig of ‘juice’ to wash it down my belly had quit it’s aching. At the 79 cross roads I headed south. I lifted the small wooden cigar box and laid it on my lap. I slid the top wooden panel open and pulled out the last imported cigar. I unwrapped the cigar and smelled the fresh natural tobacco leaf. The ring band read ’PUNCH Gran Puro Rancho’. I nipped off the end and stuck the big cigar between my lips and gripped it between my teeth. I struck a matchstick and lit the long cigar. Thinking about the past weekend at the ‘one fly’ and prospecting with a few friends made it enjoyable.

I was only a few miles from home when the cigar burnt down to its last draw.

That was a great 1 ¼ hour ceegar. I’ll have to put in an order for one of those long lasting ceegars next time I see rippinlips………

~doubletaper

'Pirate Rainbows'

‘Pirate Rainbow' Hunting

I heard there were big rainbows lurking in the waters of the Big N. After checking out the waters Saturday afternoon, in which I caught a couple off guard, I decided to return Sunday for some more swashbuckling.

Sunday morning I met my fish mate Jim at the old grist mill at 8am. Just so be it navigator Harry happened to be there in the lot stringing up. We talked it over and we all got our preferred gear and weapons together and went out on the waters to do some ‘pirate bow’ hunting. With the sun begging to rise in the distance it was still chilly enough that long-johns were appropriate and heavy wool sox for wading the cold waters.

Jim Mate went straight to the short falls. His search brought him a few small rainbow swabbies. Harry and I searched the waters in the most famous part of town for about an hour. I hooked into two brownies this side of the bridge. Harry hooked into a ’bow’ in the deeper part of the waters. After Jim Mate met up with us again we headed downstream where I was sure more notorious big ‘pirate bows’ would be lurking the waters.

The sun never quite opened up into the sunshine we expected so coaxing the ‘bows’ to the surface with dries were not to be. The water below the bridge opened up to shallow riffles that were deep enough to hold hungry pirates before flowing down into darker waters. The pirates would be holding tight to the bottom in the riffles or along the shadows of bank cover. Exposing ourselves to early I was sure going to make them take to the deeper waters. Our movements were to be slow and cautious with long range casts or slow sweeping swings of our tempting offerings. We spotted a few pirate bows docked out from the shoreline, waiting for any pirate hunter to enter the waters from the conspicuous land entries. We stayed among the watery riffles trying to hide our locations.

Soon Jim Mate headed downstream alone to pursue more uncharted waters while Harry and I hunted closely for notorious hidden pirate bows.

Water rumbled, midstream, around the few bigger exposed boulders. The sun was hidden behind gray clouds casting shadows upon the surface waters, the air chilly as we waded among the cold waters. Branchy trees lined the downstream waterway from the main part of town. We searched around each boulder, riffles and waters edge with precise drifts and swings. We came to a small cove overshadowed by long branchy needled pines. Boulders roughened the backdrop banked landscape. Slow smooth water flowed into the dark cover with a natural unhampered flow. A few submerged boulders protected any resting pirates from snaggers or amateurs. We spotted 2 ‘bows’ on sentry this side the entrance of the cove. We snuck up, from the side, and got into position to make a nab.

While Harry worked an olive woolly bugger near the stationary sentries I swung a white bunny leech into a shallow riffle out and downstream from the cove. Wham, a pirate bow tried to steal my offering by surprising me but with my quickness of my weapon I tightened up and sank’r deep. The ‘bow’ splashed water like a double blast of chain shot, shot out of a cannon barrel and falling into the water. I almost lost control from the blinding attack as he stripped off line instantly but I got my composure back and tightened it up and kept him out of the cove from alarming any of the residence in the pirate haven. He battled in the small riffles with his dorsal abruptly showing before turning downstream. I forced him to my right and he followed briefly before quickly turning and heading back towards the tail out of the cove. I kept the rod bent and followed him with the tip letting him fight the current. He finally turned upstream and we sparred shortly before he gave in and I netted him.

Just after releasing the ‘pirate bow’ Harry hooked into one of the sentries. I wasn’t paying attention to the fighting pirate but noticed Harry’s weapon flex for the last time before it straightened and the line went slack. Harry lost the battle and we watched as both sentries entered deeper into the cove.

No pride lost as we weren’t there for the kill, just the fooling and some hearty combat.

We walked away knowing the sparring commotion was a fare warning to our presence outside the pirate haven. We waded to the downstream side of the small grassy island we were on. Harry started to search the riffles of the wide open water. I searched also for a short time then double backed for another try in the pirate cove. I kept my distance with a low profile and side armed my offering far against the rocky cliff under the hanging pine branches. I gave any hungry soul something to think about as the slow swinging bunny leech came into my view just below the tail out of the cove. I moved a little upstream and laid the leech ¾ the way back into the cove. Mending upstream, making sure my presentation would enter the cove first, I lifted the rod tip and jigged the leech towards me and then letting it fall back again. A lighter colored figure darted out from the dark side of the cove and followed my offering. I continued to tease the ‘bow’ by bringing my rod to my left and upstream still jigging the leech. The ‘bow’ couldn’t resist the slow moving target. On a back drift I watched the white leech disappear into the ‘bows’ mouth. I set the hook and the swashbuckling began. After a quick bend of the rod he surfaced with maddening head shakes and body twists. He was like a possessed criminal leashed to a chain. Furiously he bent the rod further and I relentlessly gave him more line for fear of losing him. He turned broadside to the current and the force pushed him downstream even further towards the end of the cove. I lowered the rod and pulled the tip upstream cautiously and he followed momentarily. Turning broadside again he used the current to his favor. We fought like two swashbucklers trying to gain leverage and the upper hand. He threw water, as a distraction, each time he came to the surface. I kept enough tension not to over tension his quick headshakes. Time and again he quickly submerged and the rod flexed with each downstream escape route but I kept my cool and directed him in an opposite direction. With a little finesse of my own I finally convinced him to give in.

________doubletaper

Some of the notorious ‘pirate bows’ we had the pleasure of swashbuckling with!

Swashbuckler Broadside

Capt. Hookjaw

Ol' Caudal Fin

Buccaneer Scratch

pics on the big N

i was fishing the big nashannock last sunday evening. there was a young woman taking pictures of me. it's not very often you get pictures taken of yourself by complete strangers, at least not i. anyhow, her and her husband were up from texas and they were visiting the area.
i thought i'd share some of the photo's she took, pretty cool!!
thanks janie

photos by janie snelson

i title these as 'why i should tuck my shirttail in while fishing' gees i could have been on the back cover of a fly fishing mag~ lol

Jeremy and the Hellgrammites

4 guys and 2 forks (part 3)

Jeremy and the Hellgrammites

After a picnic lunch along the North Fork of the Shenandoah River we got into our vehicles and headed over the Massenutten Mountains through Edinburg Gap. We followed our guide around the winding mountain roads, cross the river and ended up at a parking lot near a power plant. a sign welcomed fishermen, something i don't see too often! After gearing up we headed down the long path behind the power plant fence and than a dirt trail that lead us to the South Fork of the Shenandoah River. We stood just below the discharge water from the plant. Up to our left, a few hundred yards, water poured over the tall wide wall as the sunlight seemed to enhance the falling waters with its bright rays. The blue sky with bellowing white clouds made for a picturesque scene. The water ran swift and clear with a light green cast and warm enough to wet wade in. Three quarters of the way across the river from us, an island extended downriver beyond our sight. The wideness and deepness as the river looked was more of what i expected as compared to the North Fork.

I had my sights on getting across the river to fish the shaded banks along the island, getting there was qustionable. The others spread out along the river as i'm sure they all had their plan of attack.

First off my olive woolly bugger produced a hard take in the knee deep water just below the deep discharge water. a fighting fallfish came to hand and i lifted it for all to see and to encourage them that there were hungry fish in the river. Slowly making my way across the river, i began to get a lay of the bottom. What i call table rock, that's long slabs of flat rock, angled up from the river floor along with submreged boulders. This made for deep runs. In most places the water was deep enough that strands of stargrass and other vegetation to waver in the current which made for good cover for smallmouth to lie in ambush. Carefully shuffling and long stepping across the table rock and boulders i made my way within casting distance of the island shore. Casting a bugger or a popper or two i thought would surly produce some lazy fish but found this was not the case. The fish i caught were all in the sunshine of the warm waters.

I slowly waded and fished my way down river casting buggers and poppers around the outgrowth of small stargrass islands. Usually this produced quick strikes of any hungry smallies. The fall fish seemed to hit the poppers at the end of the drift if i let it swing to the tail end. The fish would strike at the bugger either on the swing or when i short stripped it in. The strikes were hard hits and fighting the fish through the swift current and forcing them in calmer water around submerged rock with force with 2x or 3x tippet with my 6wt. rod made for great fun.! Either way i was catching enough fish to keep me happy and confident that there were more hungry fish downriver.

Down around a bend i was able to see where the two waterways met up again below the island. Between me and that point the river widened more which made the river water just over knee deep and that made for a good outcropping of rocks that jutted out of the water. My eldest son, Jeremy, was fishing this section with a bent fly rod and a smile on his face.

Jeremy doesn't get to fish as much as the rest of us but still loves the outdoors and when he's away from home, partakes in the relaxation of fishing.

I slowly fished towards him as he stood pretty much in the same area casting around, about 100 yards down river from me. I'de pick up a smallie now and then but i swear everytime i looked his way he had another fish on! I finally stopped fishing and watched him. He roll casted a heavy fly with a forward push motion. The heavy fly he was using would splash a bit into the water and soon i'de see him rear back and set the hook. He did this time and time again. I couldn't wait any longer and kind of hurriedly fished my way within talking distance.

"Looks like you're having a good time"

"After the guide showed me what to look for and the feeding zones I started to catch fish" he commented back.

"Watcha using?"

"Those black Hellgrammites you tied up!"

Before going down to the Shenandoah i saw, in one of my fly fishing mags, Harry Murray's top ten flies for smallmouth. He had a hellgrammite pattern that i never came across before so i tied a bunch up for the trip..

I tied one on just then and started to fish with it. Jeremy and I were having a field day hooking up with smallies practicaly behind every rock. The hellgrammite produced some vicious strikes as it sank or skirted the bottom of the river. It made for a fun and active time for Jeremy and me as we made our way down river towards Giddeon and Jeff.

Giddeon and Jeff were fishing deep in the middle of the river below the meeting point of both waterways. There seemed to be a deep underground gorge between huge sunken boulders. As we fished with them they both hooked into something big enough they couldn't bring to surface and the fish eventually broke them off.

After 5:00pm the guide started fishing with us and caught the biggest smallie of the day, about 15", in a back eddy close to shore. As evening came upon us we had our fill and headed back up to the vehicles. Hungry and content we thanked our guide and we headed for our cabin in the woods.

Back at the cabin we opened the front door to the aroma of deer shoulder roast simmering in the big crock pot with potatoes and carrots. We sat around the dinner table like a bunch of hungry wolves devouring a fresh kill only with bottles of cold beer. Later in the evening we sat outside the rear deck and dicussed Saturday's destination with, of course, a few more brown bottles. We hit the beds tired and fatigued from our successful day of fishing!

Saturday morning we'd start off with a hearty breakfast with no time engagement to meet anyone. We would be on our own.

_____________doubletaper

a fly, a fish and a reflection

Fall fishing in western Pa. has to be one of the most scenic times to fish their waters.
Peaceful creeks meandering through the colorful forest of Autumn foliage. A rustling of scampering wildlife on the dried remains.
A figure of a man in fishing attire, alone, casting a dry fly with a bamboo rod, nice an easy like.
A picture worth taking but the image is sufficient in this instance.
A friend of mine puts it in perspective from the fisherman’s point of view, the one in the picture.
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Spent a nice day on the LM creek today. The flow was outstanding. The rains brought it up nicely for a good fall outing. I took a 7.6 phillipson peerless (bamboo) for a walk with some tan caddis patterns in tow. The Steelers were up 3-0 when I lined the rod up and headed down over the bank. Steeler sundays make for empty creeks and great alone time. I managed to coax several browns and a couple brooks to hand before I packed it in. Dead drifting a few feet then a subtle twitch and skitter seemed to elicite some violent strikes. To fish bamboo with dry flies on a fall day such as this one is truly one of those pages in a lifetime that gets the corner turned down and book marked. The color plates on each fish seem a little brighter when the back drop is fall foliage with the sun beaming through the openings. One particular take came in a glassy yet breeze rippled tail out. The angle of the sun allowing a mirror effect on the water that made the caddis look like it was riding over tree tops,on past the maples, on past the oaks, bumping clouds as it began to defy the mend. Just as the wakes began to cheat the fly, an eruption blew a hole in the reflection. My wrist reacted before my brain, I KNEW this was going to happen, I wished it to happen, I willed it. The brookie came to hand. In my mind he must have been all white like a canvas, but after bursting through the color palate of reflected sky, and the colors of the leaves, he painted himself,every spot,every line...perfect.A masterpiece laid at the tips of my fingers as I unbuttoned the fly. I turned him toward the belly of the pool and he darted back into the painting.There are only so many times that our wishes come true, and to some ,a fly,a fish and a reflection are hardly a wish but to me it defines why I angle.There is such hope when water is flowing near by and occassionally that hope becomes the purist of reality. My thanks to the artist.
____________________________________~anadromous

'1 Fly' 2009

Columbus Day ‘1 Fly’ Event

This past Columbus day weekend I was involved in a ‘1 fly’ friendly competition. About 6 years ago a group of Erie steelhead fishermen got together and wanted to see how many fish they could catch with only using 1 fly in an allotted amount of time. Now in its 6th year it has evolved into an annual event with food, prizes and great comradery.
The rules are easy enough to understand. Starting at 9:00am and fishing until 1:00pm you have to only fish with the ‘1 fly’ you designated at the early registration. You accumulate points for each inch of steelhead you catch, double points for brown trout and ¼ point per inch any other fish. Restrictions are you must wade fish any of the Lake Erie tribs or lake shore. Once you tie your fly on you are not allowed to add leader or more tippet. If you lose your fly and are not able to retrieve it you are out of the competition but any points you accumulated to that point adds to your team score. You fish with a partner so he/she can still add points with their catch until time is up or they lose their fly. Rod usage is restricted to a noodle rod or fly rod. The ‘1 fly’ must be constructed of the usual material used in fly tying for fly fishing. Prizes are awarded to the top three teams as well as the biggest fish. This year two casting challenges were added.
This is a free event with limited entrees. This year we had about 45 teams. Donations are welcomed be it hand made or store bought. The grand prizes are custom made or restored bamboo rods and some times an old fiberglass rod gets put into the mix. Even door prizes may consist of custom made rods by participating fishermen.
My partner and I came in second place in team competition last year and I had the most inches of fish caught by a single member winning a restored 8wt. Fiberglass Wonderod. This year my partner and I didn’t fare so well, due to conditions, but during the 2 casting competitions I competed in and won the speed casting event. I had one minute to cast into 5 rings scoring points for each ring. I totaled 11 points for the win.
Here’s a short piece about the ’1 fly’ this year.

2009 ‘One Fly’ Bits & Pieces

I crawled out of my van and stood in the artificial light that lit up the area around the pavilion in Foley’s Campground. The October chill in the early morning air was tolerable with heavy under-clothe and a sweatshirt. The moisture from the overnight rain lingered with the smell of dampness. Looking up, the outline of the grayish clouds was barely visible in the morning darkness against the drab dark slate blue sky. A line of people were already starting to form outside the pavilion for the 7a.m. registration. Figures of fishermen in all sizes, in bulky waders, looked like a bunch of Halloween clowns in baggy costumes waiting for their turn at the trick-or-treat door. Outbursts of greetings and laughter were a sure sign of friendship within the commotion of the waiting and handshaking anglers. As I walked among the ‘1 Fly’ participants I greeted and was met by unknown faces to well known user names. The once thought silly name tags were worth their addition to the event.
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Jack was greeting others also, while explaining the registration formalities. Debi was gathering food donations as Skip was answering questions and filling in as needed. Nymphus , dano and skeeter were doing their part to keep things moving along as schlemoc was handing out patches for a small fee. It almost looked like things were organized for the 80+ people in attendance.
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My partner, rippinlip, pulled up in his pickup and I went over to greet him. I gave him the scoop of my Friday expedition and scouting report. I showed him the flies the fish were hitting and told him a few more places I heard where the steelhead were holding at. In short we selected our 1 fly and got in line to register. After receiving my patch from schlemoc, my last year’s partner, I wished him luck and stood around long enough to hear Jack’s morning speech.
Upon leaving to our destination 4 people showed up that I didn’t see earlier. Texcobb99 and dream catcher appeared walking up from our camping area. Another pair, Loomis and fishrmn, stood near the pavilions if they just awoke from a ‘good night’ of drinking. Evidently they hadn’t picked their one fly for the event yet. Gathering his thoughts, Loomis went down to the off color brown stained creek. Upon examining he decided, with experience, that big and ugly was the way to go.
Rumor has it he went back up to the pavilion and tied the flies on the spot and then entered them. I also heard by the time they got to their fishing spot they actually didn’t start fishing until about ten. Not sure this is true but only they can confirm this.
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Rippinlips pulled his truck down the long road that led to the mouth of trout run. Lake waves crashed against the shoreline. The first choice of ‘1 fly’ fishing was not an option anymore. Texcobb99, dc and I did well fishing it Friday morning in small waves and calmer water but today the Lake Erie extreme weather warlock put an ‘enter if you dare’ condition upon the waters. With rippinlips 30+ years experience and my early scouting we headed for the vicinity of Uncle Johns Campground.
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Walking along the slippery gray mud along the bank of Elk Creek in felt soles was like walking in fresh poured cement. With rippinlip leading the way I carefully followed trying not to slide in the slippery mud he left behind or get caught up in the overgrown jaggers he pointed out.
A line of fishermen were already casting and drifting ‘what-nots’ against the far bank. We slowly moved up creek looking for a couple of spaces for both of us to fish. Rippinlip pointed out good holds but they were already taken by anxious steelheaders. We finally came to a good hole that I fished the day before with enough room for both of us being able to fit in. just before 9:00a.m. We got our lines wet and at 9:00 game on!
The fish catching was undeterminable in the dark water. I only saw one guy, upstream, consistently hooking up under some hanging limbs against the bank.
Oldbrowntrout and his partner showed up a touch later and joined in. Being in a precarious position OldBT casted up creek with difficulty in the slight breeze. Time passed and my fly line finally tightened and moved downstream. In the muddy water I thought I had hooked into a submerged drifting tree limb. I held on, letting line out not wanting to break off. The end of my fly line finally rose and I called out fish on. Within 3 feet on the guy downstream from me the fish showed himself just below the surface. It didn’t take long for the slow pulling fish to dive deep and with a headshake my fly came loose. I felt it must have been a foul hook not expecting a fresh fish to fight so unconcerned. When my line went slack I mentioned it must have been a foul hook. The guy who seen the fish said it was a good hook up and that he seen my chartreuse egg sucking bugger in the side of the fish’s mouth. I concluded that I didn’t to set the hook good enough since I originally thought I had a drifting limb.
#1 missed!!
Meantime OldBT was having trouble casting into the slight breeze and finally got snagged up right in front of himself. Working as best he could to save his one fly he pulled up a piece of plastic garbage bag. He diligently untangled the mess as the bag slipped through his fingers, submerged, and drifted downstream. Relieved, from the snag, he brought in his leader only to find the fly did break off and disappeared with the bag never to be recovered. For him the event was over but……. He tied on a tandem and continued to pursue steelhead.
My second hook up came with a sudden take of my drifting bugger. I set the hook good and the fresh steelhead headed for the far bank. In midstream he showed himself with a leaping display of mean headshaking flight. Pounding back upon the water he submerged briefly only to exit the water again in frustration. This time, upon his pounding reentry, my fly line went limp. 2 hook-ups and nothing to show for it but the thought of what could have been points on the score card. Rippinlip continued to work his white bugger at different depths and movement trying to entice a steelhead as Old BT moved in between us with plenty of room to spare.
Oldbrowntrout proceeded to put on a clinic patiently drifting the tandem set up and hooking up to steelhead after steelhead in the next hour or so. Rippinlip moved upstream for more promising waters while I stayed put being that OldBT continued to convince me steelhead were right in front of me with his continuous hook-ups. The event ended with rippinlip losing his bugger to his only hook-up and I not being able to encourage any more fish to take my offering.
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Back at Foley’s the food line was forming as we pulled in under the sunshine, brightening up the day’s event.

________________________doubletaper

Lost by a 'Goby' 2008

Lost By a ‘Goby’
2008

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With two steelhead already to our credit, the third was at the end of my 6.5 lb. tapered leader. Thoughts of maybe getting close to first place were already filling my brain. I played the fish anxiously but carefully to bring him at hand. Schlemoc looked on intently as the steelhead displayed both power and beauty as it went air-born. Then…..

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With only a few years steelhead fishing and my partner, Schlemoc, not holding a fly rod for the past 4 years, I felt our odds weren’t very good to become winners of the ‘1 fly’ event. I didn’t get in this for the prizes or bragging rights anyhow. It was to fish against others to see how I fare. 1 fly for four hours without losing it was a challenge I couldn’t resist.

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Dream Catcher and I went up Thursday evening in preparation for the ‘1 fly’ event on Saturday. My partner Schlemoc and I have been private messaging each other about which fly we were going to use. We decided one of us would use a woolly bugger while the other would use an egg or sucker spawn pattern. This way we’ll have both cases covered. My objective on Friday was to determine what colors to use. I had told Schlemoc that Dream Catcher and I would be scouting all day Friday.

Friday at 7 a.m. D.C. and I hit the mouth of trout run. 3-4 foot waves were breaking against the beach. Dream Catcher fishing for steelhead is like me fishing for trout. If there’s a body of water that holds either we got to try it no matter the conditions. D.C. was throwing sucker spawn into the waves on his noodle rod while I was casting buggers between the swells. After about 20 minutes we headed elsewhere.

At Walnut we found a large pod of steelhead holding in a clear wide pool. Above them D.C. and I continued to try to get them to bite. Occasionally a few other fishermen would stop by to cast minnows, jigs and flies into the pool without success. I could have easily dropped live bait or cured eggs to them but I was on a mission. A brown woolly bugger (of all things) got the attention of a few steelheads but they wouldn’t hit it. My favorite largemouth and smallmouth fly was now a good possibility for my go to fly for the ‘1 fly’ event.

I started dropping egg patterns and sucker spawn to the suspended fish. A few took an interest on an orange double sperm egg pattern. D.C. tied on a small orange jig and ended up catching one of the steelhead. Just before we left he tied on his oversized orange flat fish and caught another steelhead. That evening we went to the Elk access area and I met up with Rippinlip. He gave me the scoop of what guys were catching steelhead on earlier. I did end up catching 1 steely on my hand tied brown bugger so my choice was finale. We also thought that the Elk access area was our best bet for fishing the ‘1 fly’. With the starting time not being until 9:00am might be a problem finding a spot for two partners to fish together though.

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Saturday morning D.C and I drove down to Girard park for the ‘1 fly’ event. It was like going to a Dragnet masquerade party without the masks. You sort of knew everyone but you just never got to meet him or her. Their names have been changed to protect their ‘innocence’! I met up with my partner Schlemoc and gave him my scouting report. We agreed I’d fish with my brown woolly bugger and he’ll fish with orangish/red color sucker spawn he had tied up.

We started our tournament across the rock wall at the Elk access area. The sucker spawn didn’t seem to be the right fly for the motionless water but my brown bugger wasn’t doing any good either. After about an hour we moved on down towards the mouth. We found a spot for both of us to fish side by side. Schlemoc hung in there adjusting his sucker spawn to different depth under his indicator. The sun finally got over the trees and I was able to see some steelheads about a foot below the water surface a good 2/3rds across the creek. I overhand casted to them and slowly stripped the bugger in. more than once a steelhead would follow the bugger. I finally got one to take the bugger and ‘FISH ON!’ The first fish of the day was a good one. People around me backed away and let me play the active fish on my 7wt. 9’ ½" rod. One gentleman asked if I wanted him to net my fish but I didn’t know the ruling and declined. After landing the fat steelhead at 25" (give or take 1/8") I explained to him and the others about the ‘1 fly’ event. They were intrigued no less and gave me room when I needed it. When I hooked into and landed my second steely on the brown bugger and measured him at 24" (give or take 1/8"), the game was on!

Jack had mentioned that 90-100 points should take first place through past experience. Schlemoc had more confidence than I that these two fish alone would be a big deal. I figured three would at least get us into 3rd place.

The fly-guy next to me tied on a black woolly bugger and in time started to hook up with steelhead also. He was fishing deep so now and then he’d snag up and break off, something I couldn’t afford to do just yet.

At a quarter to twelve I knew time was running out. We had to allow enough time to get back to the van and then get to the park by 1:00pm. I decided to fish deep despite the bottom snags. Schlemoc on the other hand was hanging in there like a real trooper even though he knew his fly wasn’t right for conditions but he didn’t give up! We watched as a few steelheads coasted in and lay suspended around and beneath his indicator. I remember watching a steelhead drop out of sight and the indicator twitched. Schlemoc reared back with his rod to set the hook. The line tightened and then snapped back fishless and flyless. Things happen, but now that put the pressure solely on me and it was about 12:00.

I decided ‘snags or not’ I’m fishing my bugger deep and slow. I casted out a few times. All at once I noticed my fly line tightening up on the drift and I had to make a split second decision. Was it a snag or a steelhead? I took my chance and lifted my rod to set the hook. The ‘snag’ started moving and ‘FISH ON!’ The other fishermen backed up and let me play fish #3, so I thought. Somewhere between the fish jumping out of the water and belly smacking the surface my line went limp. I quickly wristed the line towards me to see if my bugger was still on the end of the tippet. Miraculously it dangled from the tapered leader. Dream Catcher’s knot held true! Upset but not out I cast again into the deep depths.

With more time off the watch it was nerve racking to fish slow and patient. I felt the line again tighten up and set the hook hard! A fish pulled away with force and ‘FISH ON!’ Belly flopping and fighting the fresh steelhead gave it’s all. Surfacing I could tell it wasn’t a long fish but it was still points. The fly-guy next to me figured around 21". I fought the fish cleanly to the muddy bank. Schlemoc looked on as I measured the fish to exactly 21". We had 70 points so far and only about 15 minutes to fish.

Back out to the thigh high water I was getting ready to cast when the guy next to me hooked into one. Patiently I waited for him to get the steelhead under control. I resumed casting and searching for another but time ran out. Hurriedly we made it back to the van excited with our results of catching just 3 steelhead in the past few hours.

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Back at the check in I parked the van. Many of the fishermen and women were already back standing around. We walked up to the pavilion and there stood Dream Catcher.

"How’d you guys do?" he asked

"I caught three" I commented " how’d you guys do?"

I noticed his eyes open a little brighter and he said they got "0".

I could tell by the expression on his face that he knew something I didn’t.

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We checked in with 70 points. I noticed there were a lot of zeros, a few 20+ and a 46? At about 12:50 we were in the lead.

About 12:55 two guys I didn’t recall showed up at the check in board. After they signed in I went over to the board and seen 70 3/8"!!! 1:00pm tournament closed.

Worm Waster and fishing coyote had won!

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Heck, I don’t even think my tape measure had 1/8" increments! We got beat by 3/8th". That’s .375, 9.525 millimeters. Worm Waster had caught a Goby that was 2 ½". A Goby?

I didn’t even know what one looked like. I heard of winning by a nose in horse races but to lose by a Goby???

___________________________ ~doubletaper